As a German, I found the Hagenau Forest of especial interest, from the fact that a part of it had been presented to the town of Hagenau by the Emperor Frederick Barbarossa. I gave my brother-in-law many councils in regard to arboriculture; but, as the new ideas entailed work, he declined making use of them. He was very proud of his epaulets which were displayed in a little frame that hung on the wall; but he was devoid of all love for the forest, and indifferent to anything that helped the State without at the same time contributing to his personal advancement. I passed a delightful day with my brother-in-law the pastor. I accompanied him to church, and was greatly moved to once again hear German preaching and German hymns. The organist was one of the most respected men of the neighborhood, and was the owner of a large forge. I was introduced to him after the service. In the presence of others, he was quite reserved towards me; but during the afternoon, he visited the pastor, and, while we were seated in the arbor under the walnut-tree, we conversed freely in regard to the dangers that, in Alsace, menaced the last remnant of German institutions and the Evangelical Church. "France was happiest under Louis Philippe," said the pastor; and when the manufacturer ventured to inveigh against the Emperor, he replied that Napoleon was not so bad a man after all, but that the Empress was spoiling everything; that she was a friend of the Pope, and was endeavoring, at one and the same time, to destroy Protestantism and increase luxury. I returned home. Johanna superintended my household affairs, and also the farm, with great judgment. During the whole winter I was in delicate health, and in the following year I was obliged to visit the springs of Tarasp. Richard accompanied me. I was indeed unwell, for when I rode through the Prattigau and the wild waters of the Land-quart roared at the side of the road, it seemed to me as if the stream were a living monster that was climbing up and seeking to devour me. When on Fluella, I plucked the first Alpine rose. I wept. There was no one left to whom I could carry the flower that bloomed by the wayside. Richard regarded me for a long while in silence, and at last said, "Father, I know what it is that moves your soul. Let it content you that you did so much to make her life a lovely one." On those heights, where no plant can live, where no bird sings, where nothing can be heard but the rushing of the snow currents, where the fragments of rocks lay bare and bleak, and eternal snows fill the ravines, I felt as if I were floating in eternity--released from all that belonged to earth--and I called out her name--"Gustava!" Ah, if one could wait until death should overtake him in this cold, bleak region, where naught that has life can endure.