THE REMINISCENCES OF CARL SCHURZ
to his correspondent in Newcastle, but also to a merchant in Leith, by the name of McLaren. These letters we wished to present at once, but the captain reminded us that the day was Sunday, on which a Scottish merchant would certainly not be found in his counting-house, and he did not know how we could find his residence. This difficulty we recognized. However, we were heartily tired of the “Little Anna,” with its narrow cabin and its many smells. We resolved, therefore, to make our toilet and to go ashore, in order at least to take a look at Edinburgh. We also hoped to find shelter in some hotel. It was a clear, sunny winter morning. What a delight as we ascended the main street of Leith to feel that we had at last firm ground under our feet again and that we could look everyone in the face as free men! At last—all danger past, no more pursuit, a new life ahead! It was glorious. We felt like shouting and dancing, but bethought ourselves of the probable effect such conduct would have on the natives. We wandered from the harbor up into the streets of Edinburgh. These streets had on their Sunday look. All the shops closed; not a vehicle breaking the stillness. The people walked silently to church. We soon noticed that many of the passersby looked at us with an air of surprise and curiosity, and before long a troop of boys collected around us and pursued us with derisive laughter. We looked at one another and became aware that our appearance contrasted strangely indeed with that of the well-dressed church-goers. Kinkel had on his big bearskin overcoat, which reached down to his feet; his beard, which he had permitted to grow, looked like a rough stubblefield—and at that time a full beard was, in Scotland, regarded as an impossibility among respectable people. On his head he wore a cap like that of a Prussian forester. Regulation hats we did not possess. I was in a long brown overcoat with wide sleeves
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