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 A few weeks after I met him on a railroad, both of us going north, I to the seat of war in Schleswig-Holstein, he in the direction of Berlin. I could only tell him “look out,” and he did look out and far ahead.

What this trip meant I shall tell you. His teacher and friend,, was a prisoner for life in Spandau. The gifts of the philosopher, poet and orator were utilized in spinning wool in the service of the Prussian monarchy. After long and dangerous preparations got him out of the State prison, and took him, after a journey replete with perils and anxieties, to the land of the free Britons, the refuge of the persecuted of all of us. [Applause.] That daring feat has immortalized him in the popular annals of Germany. Unaccountable it was. Twenty-five years afterwards declared it to be an act of fearlessness and resolution; but nothing that ever became known of the real facts could convince the poetical fancy of the German people that the salvation of was else but miraculous.

There was a young who, in the midst of the beaten and despondent people, attacked the dragon of the Prussian police and slew him. As sang the lion-hearted Richard out of his dungeon, so, the legend goes, made his presence known by turning street organist, grinding melodies known to and appreciated by. When all has been, or done, will no longer be remembered in all its particulars, the millions of Germany will rehearse the legend of the young hero who stepped into the hyena's den and snatched his friend out of the clutches of cruel dungeon keepers. [Applause and cheers.] The myth is alive, as it was fifty years ago.