THE REMINISCENCES OF CARL SCHURZ
ings belong to the unhappiest moments of human life. We breakfasted late, and it was on this occasion that for the first time I saw my companion, Mr. Hensel, in clear daylight. I had met him at Krüger's and on our night drive only in the dark. The stately broad-shouldered figure and the long dark beard had then struck my attention; but I could now see the clear, shrewd, and at the same time bold, sparkle of his eyes, and the expression of his face, which betokened a strong will as well as sincerity and kindness of heart. Hensel observed that I was in low spirits and tried to put a pleasant face upon things. He thought that our friends in Spandau were not only faithful, but also discreet, that the officers of the penitentiary in their own interest would keep silent, and that a new attempt would soon be possible. I willingly agreed with him. In fact I was busily thinking of what was now to be done, and such a thought is always the most effective antidote for discouragements. I have frequently in life had the experience that when we are struck by an especially heavy blow, we can do nothing better than to present to our minds all, even the worst, possible features of trouble that may still be in store for us, and so in our imagination drink the cup of bitterness down to the last drop; but then to turn our thoughts to the future and to occupy them entirely with that which must be done to prevent further misfortune, to repair the damage done, and to replace what has been lost by something equally desirable. This is a sure and rapid cure; for the consequences of the misfortune hardly ever will be as disastrous as imagined. Of course, I do not apply this to the loss of one very dear.
In returning to Spandau we were in no hurry. We even thought that it would be more prudent to arrive there in the dark, and therefore started only after noon at a slow trot. Arrived in Spandau, I learned from Krüger that all had re-
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