The wanderings and fortunes of some German emigrantsGerstäcker, Friedrich
General
The wanderings and fortunes of some German emigrants
Gerstäcker, Friedrich
Germany -- Emigration and immigration -- Fiction; Immigrants -- Fiction
"Mr. Hehrmann," said Strauss, becoming more serious, "I could answer
that question by another, but we will confine ourselves to what is
political. You dare not do it; no one would listen to you at last, and
the people would say, 'He will only tell us what we know well enough
already,' whether they know it or not. No, to be a Mentor of the people,
I, for one, shall not aspire; but if they will be made fools of it's
their own fault. If they would only learn to _think_ before they would
_abuse_, all that would not happen; but you may convince yourself, from
every individual, with a few exceptions, that what I say is correct.
Thousands of my worthy fellow-countrymen, some of whom even pass for
political luminaries, know and understand as little of American politics
as most German reviewers know of the books which they review. They just
cast a glance into them, and criticize away.
"The Germans here follow the multitude, and many of our German Tom
Noddys, who with puffed-up cheeks look down upon their poorer
countrymen, although they themselves, but a few months before, scarcely
had salt to their bread, become Whigs; because they now come in contact
with rich Americans who are Whigs, and who see through these
addle-heads, flatter them, and lead them by the nose so long as they
want to make use of them. You cannot conceive what a contemptible animal
is one of these German parvenus who has become rich. But it is getting
late, and we had better go to bed; farewell, therefore, until to-morrow;
I'll come round to the boat before it starts."
The settlers followed the advice of the apothecary, and, wearied with
the constant wandering about, retired to rest. Pastor Hehrmann, however,
continued silently to walk up and down the deserted deck in deep musing,
till weariness overcame him also, and he laid himself down, wrapped in
his cloak, beside the little cabin of the pilot, there in the open air,
to await the rising sun.
The dawn was yet contending with the increasing light of the young day,
and the crew, who had been busy at work cleaning the various decks, had
just concluded their labours, when the door of one of the sleeping
apartments in the ladies' cabin opened, and the pastor's elder daughter
stepped out into the fresh morning air, to greet the first rays of the
awakening day. The neighbourhood, still and pleasant, lay before her;
the river murmured and splashed lightly against the sides of the boat;
fishes leaped out of the water; single boats, with snow-white sails,
glided quickly across the stream, and all nature rested, overspread with
such a lovely charm, that the dear and good girl gently folded her
hands, and with her clear eyes turned toward the equally pure sky,
prayed inwardly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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