een the
sea for the first time. Now I am living upon it, and I seem to be
writing to you from another world.

A joyful event ushered us out of the Fatherland.

As we drew near the shore, on the first evening, I espied a broad,
benevolent, comfortable-looking man, at the window of the corner-house
at the landing. He bowed to me, I returned the salutation, but did not
recognize him. But when we were on board, he came up to us; it was
Master Ferdinand, whom I had helped out at the musical festival.

I quickly told him our story, and he, with a despatch which could only
have been inspired by disinterested kindness, collected his fellow
artists, together with some cultivated amateurs of the town, and we
sang and played far into the night.

With music in our souls we left the Rhine,--we left Germany.

Manna and Roland will write to you themselves; they are now on deck,
reading the Odyssey: it is the only thing one ought to read here. All
movement on the highways on shore, all household interests and
surroundings, seem far removed.

Such a ship is a world in itself.

Herr Knopf, too, has had a wonderful meeting. He is writing to the
Major: get him to show you the letter. One thing more I must tell you
about.

We reached Liverpool at evening, and intended to rest there a day. On
the next morning I was standing alone, looking at the harbor, and
thinking how Liverpool was the first English port in which slave-ships
were fitted out, when I was roused from my reverie over the changing
events of history, by seeing an outward-bound vessel weighing anchor.
On the deck stood a man, who, I cannot doubt, was Sonnenkamp. He now
wears a full beard; but I recognized him in spite of it. He has either
been in Europe all the time, or else has returned here. He seemed to
recognize me, took off his broad-brimmed hat, beckoned to some one, and
a figure appeared which I could not recognize with certainty, but I
think it was Bella.

I learned from the brother-masons, to whom Weidmann had given me a
letter of introduction, that a man quite answering to the description
of Sonnenkamp, was sending a shipload of arms and ammunition to some
Southern port.

I dare not think how terrible, at this juncture, a meeting would have
been.

Strangely enough, as I was walking with Manna at noon, through the
city, she said to me: "I feel as if I must meet father here. I keep
thinking he will come round some corner, on one side or the other!" I
do n