—­Old Song.

Schoenhausen, October 2, ’49.

My Beloved Nan,—­I am sitting in our quiet old Schoenhausen, where I am quite comfortable, after the Berlin hubbub, and I should like to stay here a week, if the old Chamber allowed.  This morning Odin awakened me, and then retreated as usual between the beds; then the Bellins groaned very much about the bad qualities of the tenant, with whom they lead a cat-and-dog life, and I discussed with her, pro and con, all that is to be sent to Berlin.  The garden is still quite green for the fall season, but the paths are overgrown with grass, and our little island is so dwarfed and wet that I could not get on to it; it rains without let-up.  The little alderman, of course, sat with me all the afternoon, otherwise I should have written you sooner and more at length.  I want to leave again tomorrow morning, and I have still several business letters to write.  Yesterday, with the King, I celebrated the nine-hundredth anniversary of the Brandenburg Cathedral, after it had been thoroughly exorcised and the bad national spirits driven out.  The entire royal family was there, except the Princess of Babelsberg, who is at Weimar; also Brandenburg, Manteuffel, Wrangel, Voss, and many high dignitaries, among them myself, quite courageously at the front in church, next to the princesses.  At dinner his Majesty said many pretty things about his electoral and capital city of Brandenburg, and was also very friendly to me.  I introduced to the Queen a number of village mayors, who had been of particular service in my election; they were so much moved by it that afterwards they embraced me with tears in their eyes.  Finally, the King became very angry at Patow, who had made his appearance as President-in-chief, and to whom he had not spoken till then.  “Sir,” said he, in a very loud and angry voice, “if you belong to the Right, then vote with the Right; if you belong to the Left, vote, in the——­ name with the Left; but I require of my servants that they stand by me, do you understand?” Breathless silence, and P——­ looked like a duck in a thunder-storm. * * * It is right good that I did not take the apartment on the Thiergarten; aside from the wet feet which my angel would get in dirty and damp weather, the house has been broken into seven times during the couple of years of its existence, a fact of which sympathizing souls would surely have informed you; and, if on some long winter evening I were not at home, you and the two girls and baby would have shuddered mightily over it.  The little old clock is just clearing its throat to strike seven; I must to my work.  Farewell, dearest; and, above all things, come-mmmm quickly—­in a hurry, swiftly, instantly—­to your dear little husbandkin.  Most hearty greetings to our parents.

Your most faithful v.B.

Erfurt, April 19, ’50.