News Of Arrival
January 29 1847,
ANGELA MIA,
I arrived here safely, have patrolled everything, and convinced myself to my sorrow that I have come too soon, as usual. The ice on the Elbe is still firm, and everything is in the best order. I seize a half-hour of leisure, in a very bad tavern, to write you on very bad paper, if only a few words. I caught a hasty glimpse of my brother and Malvine, and found them both delighted with the change that has taken place in me. Last evening in Berlin I called on Bernhard * without finding him at home, and thus convinced myself, to my horror, that, besides the famous sausages, I had also mislaid your aunt's letters from Versin, and I haven't the faintest idea where they are. If they were left in Reinfeld by any chance, do send them immediately. I left a note for Bernhard, explaining what a bad messenger I am, and I fancy your aunt will have no further use for me in that capacity.
As soon as the floods (which, for that matter, have not yet arrived) are over, I shall fly again northwards, to look up the flower of the wilderness, as my cousin puts it. As soon as I am quiet in Schönhausen I shall write you more in detail; for the present only this token of life and love, for the horses stamp, neigh, and rear at the door, and I have still much to do to-day. Most cordial remembrances to your—or, j'ose dire, our—parents.
Sans phrase, yours from top to toe.
Kisses cannot be written.
Farewell.
ANGELA MIA,
I arrived here safely, have patrolled everything, and convinced myself to my sorrow that I have come too soon, as usual. The ice on the Elbe is still firm, and everything is in the best order. I seize a half-hour of leisure, in a very bad tavern, to write you on very bad paper, if only a few words. I caught a hasty glimpse of my brother and Malvine, and found them both delighted with the change that has taken place in me. Last evening in Berlin I called on Bernhard * without finding him at home, and thus convinced myself, to my horror, that, besides the famous sausages, I had also mislaid your aunt's letters from Versin, and I haven't the faintest idea where they are. If they were left in Reinfeld by any chance, do send them immediately. I left a note for Bernhard, explaining what a bad messenger I am, and I fancy your aunt will have no further use for me in that capacity.
As soon as the floods (which, for that matter, have not yet arrived) are over, I shall fly again northwards, to look up the flower of the wilderness, as my cousin puts it. As soon as I am quiet in Schönhausen I shall write you more in detail; for the present only this token of life and love, for the horses stamp, neigh, and rear at the door, and I have still much to do to-day. Most cordial remembrances to your—or, j'ose dire, our—parents.
Sans phrase, yours from top to toe.
Kisses cannot be written.
Farewell.
Labels: Bismarck, Distance, Just because
