riting Fraeulein Milch--I
mean the Majorin. I see that I have kept writing Fraeulein Milch
throughout the whole letter. Do not be vexed if I do not alter it.

In the New World I shall write again; but now not another word. I have
written enough, my whole life long, and now I wish to do nothing but
frolic and kiss. Oh! that beautiful air from Don Giovanni occurs to me.

I will say but this one thing more: Manna behaves sweetly and kindly to
my Rosalie, and so do Adams and our three doctors and young Fassbender.
Every one rejoices in our happiness, and my young brothers-in-law are
jolly fellows. We are all practising English, but we mean to remain
true Germans.

In sight of land.

In three days we shall be in New York.

I don't know what I may have to encounter there. Rosalie, says too that
I must write now: she is sitting beside me. But I really cannot write
my inmost thoughts, when any one is in the same room with me, and
especially when such dear eyes are looking at me. I will try, though:
Rosalie thinks I have spoken so beautifully that it ought not to be
lost. She makes me vain, she thinks so much of everything I say.

You know that we had a frightful storm, and that we were formally
betrothed the" day after. It was only a little betrothal feast; but in
spirit we invited the best people to it, and I summoned and addressed
you all; you first, dear Major--or, rather, pardon me, dear brother,
and then you, dear sister. Your cap with the blue ribbon was a good
centre for my thoughts.

I spoke as follows:--

Oh, you good people, I cannot. They all say, I spoke as if I had
received the gift of tongues. It may be so, but write it I cannot. I
must give my Rosalie a kiss. Major, give yours to the Majorin.

There, that's enough.

P. S. I have given Rosalie what I have written to read. She is taking
notes of a severe criticism for me. Yes, that is the way with teachers
that have passed their examination.

NEW YORK.

To put into a letter what one has experienced in New York in three
days, nay, in one, would be like holding fast in our hands the
changeful images in the clouds. I have given up writing in my diary;
there is too much to say.

When we landed, the Uncle was waiting for us, but did not accept me as
a nephew very willingly. I wish I had you here, dear Brother Major, to
explain to him who I really am, and h