This fact recurred to my memory, and I decided to go to America to join in a work open to womanhood on a larger scale; and for the next two months, I did nothing but speculate how to carry out my design of emigration. I had lived rather expensively and lavishly, without thinking of laying up any money; and my whole fortune, when I left the Charité, consisted of sixty dollars. One thing happened in connection with my leaving the hospital which I must relate here. Director Horn was required to justify his conduct to the minister to whom the change had to be reported, and a committee was appointed to hear the accusation and to pass judgment upon the affair. As this was done in secrecy and not before a jury, and as the accuser was a man of high rank, I knew nothing of it until Christmas Eve when I received a document stating that, “as a gratification for my services for the benefit of the city of Berlin” in instructing the class of midwives, a compensation was decreed me of fifty dollars. This was a large sum for Berlin, such as was given only on rare occasions. I was also informed that Director Horn was instructed to give me, should I ever demand it, a first-class certificate of what my position had been in the hospital, with the title of Chief attached. For whatever I had suffered from the injustice of my enemies, I was now fully recompensed. I inquired who had taken my part so earnestly against Director Horn as to gain this action, and found that it was Dr. Müller the pathologist, backed by several other physicians. Director Horn, it was said, was greatly humiliated by the decision of Minister von Raumer, who could not see the least justice in his conduct in this matter, and had I not left the hospital so readily, I should never have stood so firmly as after this secret trial. It was done, however, and I confidently told my mother of my design to emigrate. Between my mother and myself there existed not merely the strongest relation of maternal and filial love, but also a professional sympathy and peculiar friendship, which was the result of two similar minds and hearts, and which made me stand even nearer to her than as a child I possibly could have done. She consented with heart and soul, encouraged me in all my plans and expectations, and asked me at once at what time I would leave. I next told my father and the rest of the family of my plan. My third sister (Anna), a beautiful, joyous young girl, exclaimed, “And I will go with you!” My father, who would not listen to my going alone, at once consented to our going together. But I thought differently. In going alone, I risked only my own happiness; in going with her, I risked hers too, while I should be constantly restricted in my adventurous undertakings by having her, who knew nothing of the world save the happiness of a tranquil family life, with me.