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"Dear Dresden!" say I, pensively, with a sigh of mixed regret and remorse, as I look back on the sunshiny hours that at the time I thought so long, in that fair, white foreign town. "Dear Linkesches Bad!" says Frank, sighing too.
"He would not let them come!" say I, explanatorily, "for what reason? for none he never has any reasons, or if he has, he does not give them. "Thank you." "You have no father, have you?" continue I, presently; "no, I remember your telling me so at the Linkesches Bad. He laughs a little dryly.
I feel quite fondly toward it; it reminds me so strongly of the Linkesches Bad, of the brisk band, and of Roger smoking and smiling at me with his gray eyes across our Mai-trank. "Yes," I say, contritely, "I am ashamed to say I had quite; but you see I have had a good many things to think of lately."
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