Next morning, Helldorf started on his little journey, and Werner ran about from one merchant to another, made calls upon calls, and was met everywhere by mere civilities, or at most by a dinner. He became heartily sick of this kind of life, and longed for the return of his absent friend, although he almost dreaded his ridicule, for everything had happened pretty much as he had foretold him. Still he was at least conscious that he had not neglected anything which he had to do, and had done everything in his power.
Helldorf returned at the time appointed; but, contrary to expectation, he did not ridicule his friend, but merely excused the men (merchants for the most part) to whom the introductions had been addressed, for not having paid more attention and regard to them.
"You see, my dear Werner, every year many thousand persons arrive in the United States, the majority of whom entertain the settled conviction that they cannot get along at all unless they bring their pockets full of introductions which certify on the face of them to the good people—'Hark ye, I am so and so, a respectable, decent person, and it would much oblige Mr. So and so, in Europe, if his esteemed friend in Philadelphia or New York, or whatever the place may be, would receive me in a friendly manner and aid me with word and deed; the friend in Europe would also, in return, be most happy to render any similar service.' Yes, that's all very well, but how seldom does it happen that any one requires an introduction for Germany? for America it is a matter of daily occurrence. No, the merchants in the great commercial towns are regularly inundated with such recommendations, and we must not by any means blame them, if they are not beside themselves with joy and gladness so soon as they see a stranger enter their house, poking such a letter of introduction, as a snail does his horns, before him. 'Help, thyself,' is the motto here, and whoever is thoroughly impressed with that need not fear. But, Werner, I have a proposal to make to you. I have accepted a commission in German-town, which will oblige me to go to New Orleans, will you go with me?"
"How far is it to New Orleans?" asked Werner.
"One can tell that you haven't been long from Germany," said Helldorf, with a smile. "Here nobody asks how far it is to a place, but the question is, 'How do you get there?' I intend to go by water. If you like, make up your mind quickly, and we'll go back to-morrow to New York, whence the packet boat 'Mobile' starts for New Orleans, and, if we have a favourable passage, we may get there in a fortnight. In New Orleans you can look about you a little; who knows what may offer itself there, and after a stay of about a week, I promise to accompany you to any little river in Tennessee which you may propose. From New Orleans we can get up there in three days."
"Oh, my dear Helldorf, Philadelphia has discouraged me very much! What am I to do in Tennessee? How can I hope—how dare I ask, for Bertha's hand? How am I to support her?"
"Oh, means will be devised," exclaimed Helldorf; "only you must set the right way to work, and an industrious man need not fear to strive in vain. Trust in me, my dear Werner, and I'll put you on the right track, and if you don't follow it, why it's your own fault. Do you go to New Orleans with me?"
"Agreed!—here's my hand. It's true that I have a couple of introductions for that place, too; but they shan't determine me, for I'll not use them;" and, in the first impulse of vexation, he pulled the letters out of his pocket, and would have thrown them into the stream which flowed past.
"Hold!" said Helldorf, seizing his hand; "we must not condemn all without distinction; such letters are like wet percussion caps, they generally miss fire; sometimes, however, one does explode, and the gun goes off. Such a bit of paper is not heavy, and, at any rate, can do no harm."
Werner put back the letters into his pocket, but opined that something unforeseen must happen to induce him to make use of them.