uld we have a German empire, and would
there be a united Italy, if Austria in alliance with Prussia had fought
in 1859 at Solferino and Magenta and conquered the French?

At Hosterwitz I became more intimately acquainted with the lyric poet,
Julius Hammer. The Kammergerichtrath-Gottheiner, a highly educated man,
lived there with his daughter Marie, whose exquisite singing at the villa
of her hospitable sister-in-law so charmed my heart. Through them I met
many distinguished men-President von Kirchmann, the architect Nikolai,
the author of Psyche, Privy Councillor Carus, the writer Charles Duboc
(Waldmuller) with his beautiful gifted wife, and many others.

Many a Berlin acquaintance, too, I met again at Hosterwitz, among them
the preacher Sydow and Lothar Bucher.

To the friendship of this remarkable man, whom I knew just at the time he
was associated with Bismarck, I owe many hours of enjoyment. Many will
find it hardly compatible with the reserved, quiet manner of the astute,
cool politician, that during a slight illness of my mother he read Fritz
Reuter's novels aloud to her--he spoke Plattdeutsch admirably--as
dutifully as a son.

So there was no lack of entertainment during leisure hours, but the
lion's share of my time was devoted to work.

The same state of affairs existed during my stay with my aunt, who
occupied a summer residence on the estate of Privy-Councillor von
Adelsson, which was divided into building lots long ago, but at that time
was the scene of the gayest social life in both residences.

The owner and his wife were on the most intimate terms with my relatives,
and their daughter Lina seemed to me the fairest of all the flowers in
the Adelsson garden. If ever a girl could be compared to a violet it was
she. I knew her from childhood to maidenhood, and rejoiced when I saw her
wed in young Count Uexkyll-Guldenbrand a life companion worthy of her.

There were many other charming girls, too, and my aunt, besides old
friends, entertained the leaders of literary life in Dresden.

Gutzkow surpassed them all in acuteness and subtlety of intellect, but
the bluntness of his manner repelled me.

On the other hand, I sincerely enjoyed the thoughtful eloquence of
Berthold Auerbach, who understood how to invest with poetic charm not
only great and noble subjects, but trivial ones gathered from the dust.
If I am permitted to record the memories of my later life, I shall have
more to say of him. It was he