I do not know how I endured it in the past; if I should live now as I did then, without God, without you, without children, I should, in fact, be at a loss to know why I should not cast off this life like a soiled shirt; and yet most of my acquaintances are thus, and they live. If in the case of some one individual I ask myself what reason he can have, in his own mind, for continuing to live, to toil, to fret, to intrigue, and to spy--verily I do not know. Do not conclude from this scribbling that I happen to be in a particularly black mood; on the contrary, I feel as when, on a beautiful September day, one contemplates the yellowing foliage; healthy and gay, but a little sadness, a little homesickness, a longing for woods, lake, meadow, you and the children, all mingled with the sunset and a Beethoven symphony. Instead of that I must now call upon tiresome serene Highnesses and read endless figures about German sloops of war and cannon-yawls which are rotting at Bremerhaven and devouring cash. * * * Farewell, my beloved heart. Much love to our parents, and God keep you all. Your most faithful v.B. Frankfort, July 8, 1851. _My Darling_,--Yesterday and today I wished very much to write to you, but owing to a hurly burly of business I have not been able to do so till now, late in the evening, after returning from a walk during which, in the charming summer-night's air, with moonlight and the rustling of poplar-leaves, I have brushed off the dust of the day's documents. On Saturday, in the afternoon, I went with Rochow and Lynar to Rüdesheim, hired a boat there, rowed out on the Rhine, and swam in the moonlight, nothing but nose and eyes over the tepid water, as far as the Mouse Tower near Bingen, where the wicked bishop met his death. There is something strangely dreamlike in thus lying in the water on a quiet, warm night, carried gently along by the tide, seeing only the sky with moon and stars, and, alongside, the wooded hill-tops and the castle battlements in the moonlight, hearing nothing but the gentle purling of one's own motion. I should like to swim thus every evening. Then I drank some very nice wine, and sat for a long time smoking, with Lynar, on the balcony, the Rhine beneath us. My little Testament and the starry firmament caused our conversation to turn on Christian topics, and I hammered for a long time at the Rousseau-like chastity of his soul, with no other effect than to cause him to remain silent. He was ill-treated while a child by nurses and private tutors, without having really learned to know his parents, and by reason of a similar bringing-up he has retained from his youthful days opinions similar to my own, but has always been more satisfied with them than I ever was. Next morning we went by steamer to Coblentz, breakfasted there for an hour, and returned by the same route to Frankfort, where we arrived in the evening. I really undertook the expedition with the object of