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Updated: May 7, 2025
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more: it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing." Cordial remembrances to your parents and the Reddentin folk. Schönhausen, February 23, '47. My Angel!
By leaving here early, one reaches Coblentz by half past ten, and is back in the evening; that is easier than from Reinfeld to Reddentin, and a prettier road.
It is all going very well, only the cradle is still lacking, and the little miss must camp meanwhile on a forage-crib. May God have you and us in his keeping, dear parents. Until we meet again, presently. Have the kindness to attend to the announcements, save in Berlin and Reddentin, in your neighborhood: Seehof, Satz, and so forth. Johanna sends cordial greetings.
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