Even in the second year of my stay at Kottbus I went to every dance given
on the estates in the neighbourhood and visited many a delightful home in
the town. Then there were long walks--sometimes with Dr. Boltze and my
school-mates, sometimes with friends, and often alone.

We frequently took a Sunday walk, which often began on Saturday
afternoon, usually with merry companions and in the society of our stern
master, who, gayer than the youngest of us, needed our care rather than
we his. In this way I visited the beautiful Muskau, and still more
frequently the lovely woodlands of the Spree, a richly watered region
intersected by numerous arms of the river and countless canals, resting
as quietly under dense masses of foliage as a child asleep at noontide
beneath the shadow of a tree.

The alders and willows, lindens and oaks, which grow along the banks,
are superb; flocks of birds fly twittering and calling from one bush and
branch to another; but all human intercourse is carried on, as in Venice,
by boats which glide noiselessly to and fro.

Whoever desires a faithful and minute picture of this singular region,
which reminded me of many scenes in Holland and many of Hobbema's
paintings, should read The Goddess of Noon. It contains a number of
descriptions whose truth and vividness are matchless.

Every trip into the woodlands of the Spree offered an abundance of
beautiful and pleasurable experiences, but I remember with still greater
enjoyment my leafy nooks on the river-bank.