CHAPTER II. When I opened my eyes, Ludwig stood at my bedside and said, "You have slept well, father, and it is well that you did. You will need all your strength to-day; for to-day it will be--Good-morning, Germany." I cannot describe how my son's presence helped to strengthen me. I felt that, with his power added to mine, I was doubly prepared for all that might happen. There is nothing more encouraging, in troubled times, than to have a faithful friend at one's side,--a truth which was proved to me on that day and many a time since. I could not help recounting my strange dream, and when I added that it gave me incomparable joy to think that the day had at last arrived in which one might say the hearts of all Germans throbbed in unison, Ludwig begged me not to talk so much. He said that he could sympathize with me, and feel what a satisfaction it must be to me, after having fought and suffered for fifty years, at last to witness the fruition of my hopes, even though the price paid be war and bloodshed. He was indeed right. He responded to all my feelings; I may indeed say that he anticipated them. When I reached the street, the throng was such that it seemed as if all the houses had been emptied of their inhabitants. Here and there, were groups talking aloud, and before the printing-office of the principal newspaper, it was almost impossible to work one's way through the crowd. It was there that I met an old friend, the incorruptible Mölder. In 1866 he had resigned a high position under the state, in order, thenceforth, to devote himself to his Fatherland, and, above all, to the cause of German unity. "It is well that I meet you," he said; "we have war now, and have stolen a march on the French. Here, in the capital, the majority of the citizens are on our side, but in the country, as you well know, the so-called popular party is to a certain extent in the majority. The common people are not so willing to follow our advice, for they are in the hands of the clergy and the demagogues, who, for a little while longer, will travel together on the same road. For this reason, we have issued the call for a mass meeting at the Turners' Hall for this evening." "Would it not be best for us delegates to hold aloof from it?" I inquired. "No; it is too late for that. You will have to speak there, and so will your son from America. We did not care to arouse you so late last night, and I have, therefore, on my own responsibility, signed your name to the call. But look!" I saw crowds standing at the street corners, and reading a large placard, calling on all whose hearts beat with love of Germany to meet together--and I really found my name at the foot of it. I could not object; our actions were no longer at our own disposal.