the family of the Baron Grovestein in Hamburg, Germany, where I met
my present husband, Gustav Schroeder, at that time one of the most
"eligible" young gentlemen in that city.

Though not particularly handsome, Gustav was all that could be
desired in other respects. He was young, well educated, and the son
of wealthy parents, and of an amiable disposition. Soon after my
engagement at the Baron's, young Schroeder's visits (ostensibly to
the family) became so frequent, that his friends, who had divined
the cause, forbade his having anything to say to me, more than cold
civility demanded; and insisted that his visits to the Grovestein
mansion should be discontinued. This, it may well be supposed, had
quite the opposite effect, and in a short time we were engaged to be
married, with the formal, if not the hearty approval of Gustav's
relations, and in course of time the marriage ceremony took place,
with all the paraphernalia of an _Alt-Deutsch Hochzeitsfest_.

Now, however, came the question: How are we to live! for my husband
had no settled profession, and his parents, though wealthy, could
not deprive their more obedient children of their rights to benefit
the perverse Gustav. They gave him sufficient to start him in
business, with the understanding that he would emigrate to America,
their idea being that a German gentleman with a little capital could
not fail to make a fortune among the comparatively illiterate
Columbians. To New York accordingly we came, and Gustav labored
assiduously to establish a business as importer of German
manufactures; he soon found, however, that men who did not know
Horace from Euripides could drive closer bargains, and make quicker
sales than he could, and, as he was too proud to compound with his
correspondents in the old country, and insisted on conscientiously