The ladies are exceedingly good housewives, but, as a French person of my acquaintance remarked, “Elles sont ou des heroïnes de Werter ou des ménagères.” One of their greatest pleasures consists in going once a week to the Singanstalt, or singing-club, to which nearly all the young persons of both sexes belong: the evening is passed in singing German Lieder, and the choruses from operas and oratorios by national composers, which they perform in very agreeable style. One of the most delightful New-Year’s Eves I ever passed was at the house of a German friend. The family was a very large one, and all the members of it were assembled, even down to the third-cousins—grandmamma, grandpapa, all their married sons and daughters, with every one of the children, those of a few months old included, cousins, nephews, and nieces, not one was absent. After spending the evening in various social games, in which both great and small took part, the whole company took their seats round the room a little before midnight, and waited in silence until the clock struck twelve, announcing that another year had passed for ever, and that a new one had already commenced. All those who could sing stood in a group at one end of the hall, and the instant that the last stroke had solemnly sounded they burst into a chorus of thanksgiving. Each then sang a verse in turn, the grandfather, although past sixty, commencing in a fine tenor; after him sang the eldest son, and then the eldest daughter, and so on. The words, which are really beautiful, were partly composed by Voss; other verses had been added by the singers themselves. They began by thanking God for the renewal of another great division of time, expressed delight that so many were thus joyously assembled, with hopes for the welfare of those far away: but in the midst of their rejoicings they affectingly referred to the dead, who were sleeping in solitude, wrapped in their cold and silent graves, and whose place on earth was no more seen; and much emotion was excited by the following verses:— “Wer weiss, wie mancher modert Ums Jahr, gesenkt in’s Grab! Unangemeldet fodert Der Tod die Menschen ab. Trotz lauem Frühlingswetter Wehn oft verwelkte Blätter. Wer von uns nachbleibt, wünscht dem Freund Im stillen Grabe Ruh, und weint.”[29] Tears fell fast from many an eye as each gazed round that circle of friends and relatives, and all seemed to dread that some beloved face would be missing ere another New-Year’s Eve found them there assembled; they were scarcely dried ere the two concluding lines echoed cheerfully through the hall— “Wohlauf, und: Gut seyn immerdar Sey unser Wunsch zum neuen Jahr.”[30] And then the grand chorus of thanksgiving was sung in gratitude to Heaven for the hope of an eternal re-union hereafter.