rial trot of a
cart-horse than the course of a phantom steed. But we must not be too
exact with these pen-and-ink gentry. Well, then, with this single
exception, you will find no poetry in me, except a few of the great
Schiller's striking lines: <i>Potz Blitz, das ist ja die Gustel von
Blasewitz</i>. There's much truth in that passage."

"You are making fun of me," said Lenore, somewhat offended.

"Indeed I am not," asseverated Fink. "How can any one make or read poems
in these days of ours, when we are constantly living them? Since I have
been back in the old country, scarce an hour passes without my seeing or
hearing something that will be celebrated by knights of the pen a
hundred years hence. Glorious material here for art of every kind! If I
had the misfortune to be a poet, I should now be obliged to rush out in
a fit of inspiration, hide myself in the kennel, and, at a safe distance
from all exciting causes, write a passionate sonnet, while the fox kept
biting my heels. But, as I am no poet, I prefer to enjoy the beautiful
when it is before me, to putting it into rhyme." And again he looked
admiringly at the lady.

"Lenore!" cried a harsh voice from a corner of the room. Lenore and Fink
looked in amazement at each other.

"He has learned it," said the forester, pointing to the raven; "in a
general way he has left off learning, and sits there sulking with every
one, but still he has learned that."

The raven sitting on the stove bent down his head, cast a shrewd glance
at both the guests, kept moving his beak as though speaking to himself,
and alternately nodding and shaking his head.

"The birds already begin to speak," cried Fink, going up to the raven;
"the ceiling will soon fly off, and I shall be left alone with Hector
and Bergmann. Now, sorcerer, does the water boil?"

The forester looked into the stove. "It boils famously," he said; "but
what is to be done next?"

"We will ask the lady to help us," replied Fink. "I have," said he,
turning to Lenore, "already been with your family trapper as far as the
distillery and back, and I have brought what always serves me on my
travels for breakfast and dinner." He took out a few tablets of
chocolate. "We will concoct something like a beverage with this, if you
do not disdain to lend us your aid. I propose that we try to mix this
with water as well as we can. It would be charming of you to vouchsafe
an opinion as to how we ought to set about it."

"Have you