At the peaceful residence of my friend overlooking the Rhine, of the full beauties of which I still cherish a vivid and warm appreciation, I mended very rapidly.  To Mr. and Mrs. K——­ I owe a debt of gratitude which I shall never be able to repay.  I entered their home half-starved, extremely weak, and practically at death’s door, but under the careful nursing and unremitting attention of Mrs. K——­ and her husband I speedily recovered.  I had been suffering considerable mental worry, having received news that my wife at home was seriously ill, but [gap] I received a letter, the first since I had left home on August 1st, which communicated the glad tidings that she had completely recovered her health.  The receipt of that letter banished all anxiety and fretfulness from my mind.  Indeed at the end of a month I felt capable of tempting fate upon my own initiative once more.  I felt that I was encroaching upon the generosity and hospitality of my newly-found friends, and this feeling commenced to harass me.

One morning I expressed to K——­ my intention to go into Cologne to look for work.  He endeavoured to dissuade me, pointing out that my “pass” would not permit me to move beyond the limits of the little village, but I was not to be gainsaid.  I felt I could not show sufficient appreciation for what they had done on my behalf, or discharge the debt of obligation which I owed to them.

I started off one morning, full of hope and energy, determined to get a job at all hazards.  But that search for work proved to be the most heart-breaking quest I have ever attempted.  I realised that my limited knowledge of German would bowl me out.  All that I knew I had picked up colloquially while interned at Sennelager, and although it was adequate to enable me to hold a general conversation, it was hopelessly insufficient for commercial purposes.  Consequently I decided to pretend to be deaf and dumb.

I entered every shop in the main thoroughfare of Cologne in succession.  I was ready and willing to accept any position, irrespective of its character.  I blundered into an undertaker’s premises, which I subsequently learned to be the largest firm in this line in the city, and patronised by the rank and fashion of Cologne.  I endeavoured to explain the object of my visit to the proprietor by mimicking nail-hammering and pointing to a coffin.  He invited me into his inner office where, to my alarm, I descried an officer’s uniform hanging behind the door, and evidently belonging to the proprietor who was about to join the colours.  I decided to make myself scarce with all speed, but I had to act warily to avoid suspicion.