Scarcely had we taken our places when a chorus of many voices singing the angel’s greeting, “Glory to God in the highest, peace on earth,” recalled to our happy hearts the sacredness of the morning.  Violins and horns blended with the voices; then, before even the most excited could feel the least emotion of impatience, the music ceased.  Barop stepped forward, and in the deep, earnest tones peculiar to him exclaimed, “Now see what pleasures the love of your friends has prepared for you!”

The devout, ennobling feelings which had inspired every heart were scattered to the four winds; we dispersed like a flock of doves threatened by a hawk, and the search for the places marked by a label began.

One had already seen his name; a near-sighted fellow went searching from table to table; and here and there one boy called to another to point out what his sharp eyes had detected.  On every table stood a Stolle, the Saxon Christmas bread called in Keilhau Schuttchen, and a large plate of nuts and cakes, the gift of the institute.  Beside these, either on the tables or the floor, were the boxes from home.  They were already opened, but the unpacking was left to us—­a wise thing; for what pleasure it afforded us to take out the various gifts, unwrap them, admire, examine, and show them to others!

Those were happy days, for we saw only joyous faces, and our own hearts had room for no other feelings than the heaven-born sisters Love, Joy, and Gratitude.

We entered with fresh zeal upon the season of work which followed.  It was the hardest of the twelve months, for it carried us to Easter, the close of the school year, and was interrupted only by the carnival with its merry masquerade.

All sorts of examinations closed the term of instruction.  On Palm Sunday the confirmation services took place, which were attended by the parents of many of the pupils, and in which the whole institute shared.

Then came the vacation.  It lasted three weeks, and was the only time we were allowed to return home.  And what varied pleasures awaited us there!  Martha, whom we left a young lady of seventeen, remained unaltered in her charming, gentle grace, but Paula changed every year.  One Easter we found the plump school-girl transformed into a slender young lady.  The next vacation she had been confirmed, wore long dresses, had lost every trace of boyishness, even rarely showed any touch of her former drollery.

She did not care to go to the theatre, of which Martha was very fond, unless serious dramas were performed.  We, on the contrary, liked farces.  I still remember a political quip which was frequently repeated at the Konigstadt Theatre, and whose point was a jeer at the aspirations of the revolution:  “Property is theft, or a Dream of a Red Republican.”

We were in the midst of the reaction and those who had fought at the barricades on the 18th of March applauded when the couplet was sung, of which I remember these lines: