LETTER NO. XI 



The 24th of November, 1853 

 Christmas is nigh ; Do you remember how Marie and 

 I, as children, cut slips of paper about this time, by means 

 of which we managed to keep close count of the days 

 until that great and glorious feast-day arrived, on which 

 Christopher would drive up with the sleigh to take us 

 upon the holiday trip to grandpa's at Bartenstein 1 ? Do 

 you remember, how every night one of those slips would 

 be burnt with great solemnity and how we rejoiced, when 

 the number decreased to twenty, fifteen or ten, now but 

 one more week, six, five, four or three days, at last the 

 day after to-morrow, then to-morrow! Then!!— Tempora 

 mutantur et nos mutamur in illis! Yes, times change 

 and we change with them! And how wonderful the 

 change! 



Little Marie has grown into maidenhood; the then 

 careless child stands now on the eve of that great day 

 when she will take upon herself the great duties of a 

 household and the still more serious and sacred duties 

 of a faithful wife. May God bless you, sister! The lit- 

 tle Franz has grown too and gone away into the wide, 

 cheerless world! He has become acquainted with the 

 many hardships of life, and manifold reverses have made 

 of the tender-hearted boy a man, hardened by experi- 

 ences. Yes, hardened is the right word, for I have be- 

 come hardened by strenuous labor for daily bread. As 

 once the boy counted with child-like glee the days when 

 school would close for a golden vacation of four long 

 weeks, so counts now the man the remaining days of the 

 month, at the end of which he may pocket his few hard 

 earned dollars. Work-day after work-day, months, 

 years, a long chain of work-days, no vacation, scarcely n 



293 



