During the negotiations, which took several days, the good man of Kibart entertained us in his own house, shabby emigrants though we were.

The Schidorsky brothers were Jews, but it is not on that account that their name has been lovingly remembered for fifteen years in my family.
On the German side our course joined that of many other emigrant groups, on their way to Hamburg and other ports.

We were a clumsy enough crowd, with wide, unsophisticated eyes, with awkward bundles hugged in our arms, and our hearts set on America.
The letter to my uncle faithfully describes every stage of our bustling progress.

Here is a sample scene of many that I recorded:-- There was a terrible confusion in the baggage-room where we were directed to go.

Boxes, baskets, bags, valises, and great, shapeless things belonging to no particular class, were thrown about by porters and other men, who sorted them and put tickets on all but those containing provisions, while others were opened and examined in haste.