at half-past eight at the manly voice of T. S. Perry caroling
his morning hymn from his neighboring bed -- if the instru-
ment of torture the Germans sleep in be worthy of that
name. After some preliminary conversation we arose,
performed our washing, each in a couple of tumblers full
of water in a little basin of this shape [sketch], donned our
clothes, and stepped into our SALON into which the morning
sun was streaming and adding its genial warmth to that
of the great porcelain stove, into which the maid had put
the handful of fuel (which, when ignited, makes the stove
radiate heat for twelve hours) the while we slumbered.
T. S. P. found on the table a letter from [Moorfield] Storey,
which the same vigilant maid had placed there, and I the
morning paper, full of excitement about the Italian affairs
and the diabolical designs of Napoleon on Germany. After
a breakfast of cocoa, eggs and excellent rolls, I finished the
paper, and took up my regular reading, while T. S. P.
worked at his German lesson. I finished the chapter in a
treatise on Galvanism which bears the neat and concise title
of [ not deciphered ].

By 10 o'clock T. S. P. had gone to his German lesson, and
it was about time for me to rig up to go to Grimm's to dine,
having received a kind invitation the day before. As I
passed through the pleasant wood called the "Thiergarten,"
which was filled with gay civil and military cavaliers, I
looked hard for the imposing equestrian figure of the Hon.
Geo. Bancroft; but he was not to be seen. I got safely to
Grimm's, and in a moment the other guest arrived. Herr
Professor --, whose name I could not catch, ¹ a man of a
type I have never met before. He is writing now a life of
Schleiermacher of which one volume is published. A soft
fat man with black hair (somewhat the type of the photo-

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