The hazy sunshine shone warmly on the bare, bleak fields beside the road, and as the day wore away, my spirits sank down, down, into a bottomless gulf of despondency. The coolness of the woods into which the road finally led as it descended the hills of the Weser, made me shiver, though my veins were parched with heat. I threw myself down on the grass, and looked up into the gray sky, that I might lose the feeling of loneliness in its vast and sympathizing presence. This is always an encouraging contemplation, and I was aided by it in the present instance. I made out to reach the city of Münden before dark, and slept as I best could, a disturbed, unrefreshing sleep. The next day, feeling unable to walk, I took the _eilwagen_ to Göttingen, where I remained two days, and in spite of medicine and a physician, grew no better. It rained continually, and shut up in my chamber with no company but my own thoughts, which were by no means entertaining companions, I looked back with regret to the home-like comforts of Frankfort and Heidelberg. Sickness is synonymous with impatience in my vocabulary, and after two days’ trial of repose, I determined to continue my journey, trusting to the influences of scenery and exercise. Accordingly I took the _eilwagen_ to Nordheim, twenty miles nearer the Hartz, as it was raining heavily. In the capacious and cushioned vehicle, traveling was tolerable enough and I reached Nordheim at nightfall in better spirits. In the damp, gloomy inn, after the stage rolled off, my fever returned. I went to bed, and lay awake for hours, listening to the rain beating on the windows and the monotonous wail of the wind down the valley. The rest of the night must have been passed either in the wildest dreaming, or in a waking fever bordering on delirium. My head throbbed painfully, and imaginary voices seemed calling me from a distance. Strange figures walked through the room and stood long, looking out the window. Some were familiar faces—faces of friends far away—and some that I knew not, spoke to me, or talked with each other till my brain was confused with the noises, and toward morning I slept. The next day the sky was dark, without rain. I was weak, though no worse, and set out on foot, aided by a stout staff, toward the Hartz. In spite of the labor of plodding along the muddy roads, I was refreshed by the cool damp atmosphere and inspired by the scenery, which grew wilder and lonelier as I advanced. Spring, although late for Germany, had already covered the forests with their first light green foliage, and the meadows were luxuriant with grass and flowers. Whenever I grew weary, there was always a bank of moss somewhere under the pine-trees which the rain had not reached, and like Uhland with his apple-tree, I greeted the pine as my landlord, who, if he could spread me no board from his juicy larder, at least kept for me his best arm-chair, and with the thatch of his roof protected me from the frequent showers.