G O D I N A G O D F O R S A K E N L A N D  21 so many years ago. Our steam-powered ship ended up getting us to Baltimore in nine weeks. The nine-week passage gave me plenty of time to grapple with my reasons for immigration. The many Germans on board came from all types of backgrounds. I had ample time to get to know these fellow passengers. I rea- soned that perhaps I would find direction and inspiration as I got to know these folks. Otto was a farmer in Germany. He was a big, sturdily-built fellow, about my age. He had a broad back and a smile that came easily. I met him up on the deck the first day of our passage. He was struggling to keep from vomiting; seasickness already over- coming him. Yet his demeanor was happy, and he felt he would get over the seasickness, “It is just something I must overcome. I am too tied to land; have never been to sea before. I will be strong when I reach America.” “So why do you travel to America?” I asked. “I believe my land would have been taken by the government if I had stayed in Germany. I got a good price when I sold, and from the information I have, I can buy a great deal more land in America for the same amount of money. There is still land to be homesteaded in parts farther west. That means that if one works the land and stays, it will be nearly free. I want some land and a place where my children can someday carry on my work.” I could see his enthusiasm and hope, yet I shared none of those dreams. I had worked for my father in the rug-making business. I really had no desire to follow that occupation. Ernst had worked in a retail business. He had little money and languished in steerage. As he came up on deck to enjoy the fresh air I introduced myself. “I am August from Hainichen,” I opened. “Ernst Mueller from Bremen,” he extended his hand to me. I immediately felt at ease and familiar. “So why do you travel to America, Ernst?”