"And now I will intrust you with something, my young friend, which I would not for all the world should come to Mrs. Brown's ears, and which also, on your own account, you may keep to yourselves. You remember, Lambert, how five years ago, you were in New York, and we stood on the quay and saw your country people leave the ship, poor simpletons! It rained powerfully, and the dismal scene did not by this means become brighter. Well, this morning, while we were here wandering about, I have been constantly forced to think and have said to myself: What immeasurable life-vigor must stick in this race, which needs but a single life-time to change from half-starved, shy-looking, all-enduring slaves, into lusty, broad-shouldered, independent freemen. How immeasurably must such a race have suffered to sink so deep! How high it must rise when these sufferings are removed; when its good instincts are left to themselves; when fortune permits it freely to unfold its great strength which slumbers hidden and is yet scarcely waked up! How high it must ascend! How wide it must spread! What is beyond its reach? Do not laugh at me, my young friend. I tremble when I think of it---when I think what a host like this, as yet without leaders, only subject to the law of gravity, can overcome--_must_ overcome--when it has learned to take care of itself; to lead and to march in rank and file. However this may be, so much is already clear to me; you who here stand on the border are evidently now our vanguard. You prepare your countrymen a way. You are truly German pioneers. But again, not a word of this when you this fall come to New York. My neighbors already call me 'the Dutchman' and Mrs. Brown will not again--Well, as we are now speaking of the women, where, then, is your wife, with whom you at that time so hastily went away? I think I will to-morrow lay claim to your guest-friendship for a day, and so would be gladly introduced to my beautiful entertainer." "My wife," said Lambert, "is not here. She--" "I understand, I understand," interrupted the talkative old man. "Little household events happen in the best of families. I understand." "Now," said Lambert, laughing, "our youngest is already half-a-year old, and my wife was unwilling longer to stay away from the children; and besides, this joyous day is also one of sorrowful thoughts to my family." "I know, I know," said the old man. "Your brother--we heard of it in New York. What do you want, man? Your brave deed is in the mouth of the people. The ballad singers sing it on the streets:" "A story, a story, Unto you I will tell, Concerning a brave hero--" "I should say, two brave heroes. But the people like to keep to one. You must tell me all this circumstantially when I come to your house to-morrow." "This I will cheerfully do," replied Lambert, "and so I will to-day take my leave of you. The sun is already low, and I would like to be home in good time."