centuries shall have gone by, and when none shall know of
the momentary applause and of the triumph of the fair songstress; when
all will be forgotten and gone, and even for me this hour will be but
a dream of the past."

TWELFTH EVENING.

"I looked through the windows of an editor's house," said the Moon.
"It was somewhere in Germany. I saw handsome furniture, many books,
and a chaos of newspapers. Several young men were present: the editor
himself stood at his desk, and two little books, both by young
authors, were to be noticed. 'This one has been sent to me,' said he.
'I have not read it yet; what think _you_ of the contents?' 'Oh,' said
the person addressed--he was a poet himself--'it is good enough; a
little broad, certainly; but, you see, the author is still young. The
verses might be better, to be sure; the thoughts are sound, though
there is certainly a good deal of commonplace among them. But what
will you have? You can't be always getting something new. That he'll
turn out anything great I don't believe, but you may safely praise
him. He is well read, a remarkable Oriental scholar, and has a good
judgment. It was he who wrote that nice review of my 'Reflections on
Domestic Life.' We must be lenient towards the young man.'

"'But he is a complete hack!' objected another of the gentlemen.
'Nothing is worse in poetry than mediocrity, and he certainly does not
go beyond this.'

"'Poor fellow,' observed a third, 'and his aunt is so happy about him.
It was she, Mr. Editor, who got together so many subscribers for your
last translation.'

"'Ah, the good woman! Well, I have noticed the book briefly. Undoubted
talent--a welcome offering--a flower in the garden of poetry--prettily
brought out--and so on. But this other book--I suppose the author
expects me to purchase it? I hear it is praised. He has genius,
certainly; don't you think so?'

"'Yes, all the world declares as much,' replied the poet, 'but it has
turned out rather wildly. The punctuation of the book, in particular,
is very eccentric.'

"'It will be good for him if we pull him to pieces, and anger him a
little, otherwise he will get too good an opinion of himself.'

"'But that would be unfair,' objected the fourth. 'Let us not carp at
little faults, but rejoice over the real and abundant good that we
find here: he surpasses all the rest.'

"'Not so. If he is a true genius, he can bear the sharp voice of
censure. There are people enough to pra