in Schleusingen on the south side of the Thuringian wood; arose at midnight; that evening I had eaten freely of the trout and had drunk weak beer with them; at one o'clock we rode to a forge in the mountains, where ghostlike people poked the fire; then we climbed, without stopping, until three o'clock, in pouring rain, I wearing a heavy overcoat; so steep that I had to help myself with my hands; so dark in the fir thickets that I could touch the huntsman ahead of me with my hand, but could not see him. Then, too, we were told there is a precipice on the right, and the torrent sent up its roar from the purple depths below; or that there is a pool on the left, and the path was slippery. I had to halt three times; repeatedly I almost fainted from weakness, lay down on the dripping heath, and let the rain pour on me. But I was firmly resolved to see the grouse; and I did see several, but could not shoot them, for reasons which one must be a huntsman to understand. My companion shot one, and, if I had been well, I might have shot two; I was too exhausted. After three it cleared and became wonderfully fine, the horn-owl gave place to the thrush, and at sunrise the bird-chorus became deafening; the wood-pigeons singing bass, withal. At five I was down again, and, as it began to pour once more, I abandoned further attempts, returned hither, ate very heartily, after a twenty-four hours' fast, and drank two glasses of champagne, then slept for fourteen hours, until yesterday at one o'clock, noon, and now I am feeling much better than before the excursion, and am glad of the good constitution which God has given me, to get through it all. * * * I send you lots of love, my heart, and will piously celebrate fast-day tomorrow at the Wermel church. God preserve you. Love to mother and Melissa. Excuse my haste. I had really left myself an hour of leisure, but that little old Mass has his fourteenth child, just born. The only son of our poor Eglofstein, of Arklitten, twenty-three-year-old lieutenant of cuirassiers, has shot himself in hypochondria; I pity the father extremely, a devout, honorable man.
v. B.
Your most faithful
