Dec. 8th. Yesterday I had a hellish lot to do, and this morning too. Now I shall close this letter to you, and then I hope I shall be able to have a cup of coffee. Listen, for Christmas make me a new cigar case, in black, red and gold [Colours symbolising the unity of Germany], those are the only colours I like.

Oh, red as love then be our brethren’s token,
And pure as gold the purpose of our quest,
And chat in death our spirit be not broken,
Black be the riband worn around the breast.

From a banned student song. Here some blockheads have founded an association where they make speeches, and I am to be a guest and nolens volens make a speech. Oh dear, that will be a fine do! Incidentally, I can preach very well even without having studied beforehand, and when it is a matter of lying, there is no stopping me, I go on and on. If I were in the Landtag I would let nobody else get a word in. — Now I have had my portrait painted, with my moustache, and so that you can see what I look like, I copy the picture:

You see, I was painted when I was furious because the cigar would not draw. At that moment I looked so intelligent that the painter  Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire  [G. W. Feistkorn] implored me to let myself be painted like that. I put aside all the bad cigars and smoked one of the awful things at every sitting. That was the worst torment for me.

Be glad that you have nothing to do with sample boxes, it is first-class stupidity and muddle, there you can stand all day by the open window in the packing-house loft in this cold weather and pack linen, it is something dreadful, and in the end nothing comes of it but nonsense.

My dear sister, I am your devoted  Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire