n I rose obeyed any other directions of
the physician in charge of the watering-place.

The remainder of the day, if the weather was pleasant, I spent out of
doors, usually in the grounds under the leafy trees and groups of shrubs
on the shore of the Enz. On the bank of the clear little stream stood a
wooden arbour, where the murmur of the waves rippling over the mossy
granite blocks invited dreams and meditation. During my whole sojourn in
Wildbad I always passed several hours a day here. During my period of
instruction I was busied with grammatical studies in ancient Egyptian
text or archaeological works. In after years, instead of Minerva, I
summoned the muse and committed to paper the thoughts and images which
had been created in my mind at home. I wrote here the greater portion of
An Egyptian Princess, and afterwards many a chapter of Uarda, Homo Sum,
and other novels.

I was rarely interrupted, for the report had spread that I wished to be
alone while at work; yet even the first year I did not lack
acquaintances.

Even during our first stay at Wildbad, which, with the Hirsau
interruption, lasted more than three months, my mother had formed an
intimate friendship with Frau von Burckhardt, in which I too was
included. The lady possessed rare tact in harmonizing the very diverse
elements which her husband, the physician in charge, brought to her.
Every one felt at ease in her house and found congenial society there. So
it happened that for a long time the Villa Burckhardt was the rendezvous
of the most eminent persons who sought the healing influence of the
Wildbad spring. Next to this, it was the Burckhardts who constantly drew
us back to the Enz.

Were I to number the persons whom I met here and whose acquaintanceship I
consider a benefit, the list would be a long one. Some I shall mention
later. The first years we saw most frequently the song-writer Silcher,
from Tubingen, Justus von Liebig, the Munich zoologist von Siebold, the
Belgian artist Louis Gallait, the author Moritz Hartmann, Gervinus, and,
lastly, the wife of the Stuttgart publisher Eduard Hallberger, and the
never-to-be-forgotten Frau Puricelli and her daughter Jenny.

Silcher, an unusually attractive old man, joined us frequently. No other
composer's songs found their way so surely to the hearts of the people.
Many, as "I know not what it means," "I must go hence to-morrow," are
supposed to be folk-songs. It was a real pleasure to hear him sing t