would not John Paul Richter have made of it! In a word, my dear friend, many who are yet alive may be named, but-- One word more on the way in which these leaves came into my hands. Yesterday morning early--as soon as I was up--they were presented to me. A strange man with a long grey beard, wearing a black, worn-out kurtka, with a botanical case suspended at his side, and slippers over his boots, on account of the damp rainy weather, inquired after me, and left these papers behind him. He pretended he came from Berlin. ADELBERT VON CHAMISSO. _Kunersdorf_, 27 _Sept._, 1813. CHAPTER I. At last, after a fortunate, but to me most tedious passage, we reached our destined haven. As soon as the boat had landed me on the shore, I loaded myself with my little possessions, and forcing my way through the swarming crowd, entered the first and meanest house distinguished by a sign-board. I ordered a chamber; the waiter measured me with a glance, and sent me up to the garret. I ordered fresh water, and inquired for the abode of Mr. Thomas Jones. "Near the North gate, the first country house on the right-hand side; a large new house of red and white marble, supported by many pillars." Well; it was yet early; I opened my bundle, laid out my newly-turned black coat, clad myself in my sprucest garments, put my letter of introduction into my pocket, and bent my way to the man, who, I modestly hoped, was destined to befriend me. After I had gone through the long North-street, and reached the gate, I saw the columns glimmering through the green trees. "It is here, then," I thought. I wiped the dust from my feet with my pocket-handkerchief, arranged my cravat, and rung the bell. The door flew open, the servants narrowly examined me in the hall, but the porter at last announced me, and I had the honour to be summoned into the park, where Mr. Jones was walking with a small company. I knew him instantly by his portly self- complacency. He received me tolerably well--as a rich man is wont to receive a poor dependent devil; looked towards me, but without turning from the rest of the company, and took from me the letter I held in my hand. "Aye, aye! from my brother; I have not heard from him a long time. Is he well? There"--he continued, addressing the company without waiting for an answer, and pointed with the letter to a hill, "There I have ordered a new building to be erected." He broke the seal, but not the conversation, of which wealth became the subject. "He who is not the master of at least a million," he interposed, "forgive the expression, is a ragamuffin."--"That is true, indeed," exclaimed I, with full, overflowing feeling. He must have been pleased with the expression of my concurrence, for he smiled on me and said, "Remain here, young friend: I shall perhaps have time to tell you, by and by, what I think of it." He pointed to the letter, put it into his pocket, and turned again to the company.