THE REMINISCENCES OF CARL SCHURZ
said with one of those mellow voices that touch the soul like a benefaction.
“Yes, cordial greetings,” I replied, “from a friend who asked me to beg you for a package of valuable papers which she had put into your hands for safe-keeping.”
“I knew that you would come at about this time,” the lady replied. “In this pocketbook you will find all. I do not know your plans, but they must be good. You have my warmest wishes; God protect and bless you.” Then she reached out to me her slender hand with a warm pressure, and I felt, after having left her, that her blessing had already become a reality.
That money was a heavy care to me. Never had I borne any responsibility of this kind for the property of others. In order not to expose this precious treasure to any accident, I carried it constantly with me tightly sewed in the inside pocket of my waistcoat.
The difficult task which I had still to perform before the decisive hour consisted in arranging for means of transportation to a safe place of refuge. Where should we turn after the escape of the prisoner? The frontiers of Switzerland, Belgium and France were too far away. We could not venture upon so long a journey through a hostile country. Nothing remained, therefore, but to try to reach the seacoast somewhere in order to cross over to England. After due consideration I concluded that the government would certainly take all precautions to watch every outgoing vessel in the harbors of Bremen and Hamburg. It appeared therefore prudent to choose another seaport, and so I turned to Mecklenburg. We had an influential and true friend in Rostock in the eminent jurist and president of the house of delegates, Moritz Wiggers, with whom I had become personally acquainted at the democratic congress in Braunschweig. I might also hope to
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