CHAPTER VIII.
OUR CANTONMENT.
The next day's sun rose bright and radiant; the birds sang in the green poplars; the storks screamed on the red gable-tops; the great frogs were croaking hoarsely among the bronze-like slime which was generated on the bosom of the stagnant canals, and the business of life commenced in Glückstadt.
"I'll find her out;" I muttered, as we sat down to breakfast on the remains of our supper, together with a can of Dantzig beer, a ham and basket of eggs, which our invaluable Phadrig had procured from some confiding sutler in the Platz; "I will find her out, if she is between the rooftree and the ground-stone!"
"Who?" asked Ian, overhearing my Gaëlic.
"A fair young lady, whom I discovered yesterday."
"Dioul! we have been but one night in this land of Holstein, and this inflammatory student hath fallen in love!" replied Ian, laughing aloud, for he thought I was jesting. "How these petticoats influence the fate and the fancies of men!"
"And where does this fair dame dwell?" said Angus.
"Below us; did you not hear me speaking about her to the husbonde, Hausmeister, or whatever yonder august man in boots considers himself."
"How could we? you spoke in Dutch."
"Or Spanish, or some such gibberish, known only to yourselves," said Ian, slicing down the ham with his dirk.