in beer gazettes wouldn't
prove it. As a matter of fact, I once did do some work in art. Why should
I deny that, like all silly children of between sixteen and twenty, I
dabbled in painting, sculpture, and literature? Once my father had to
bring me to reason because I was all afire for going on the stage. Later,
I wanted to throw everything to the winds to enter politics and
revolutionise society by working for a party which has never even
existed, a German-Social party. I leave you to judge how flighty I was
and how much talent I had for art. But I love art, with a love stronger,
I think, now than ever before, because everything in the world beside art
has become problematical to me. I would rather have carved a wooden Mary
like this"--indicating the statue by Riemenschneider--"than have been
Robert Koch and Helmholtz rolled into one. Of course, I am speaking
purely subjectively. I know how great Koch and Helmholtz are, and I have
the profoundest admiration for both."

"See here! See here! What's the matter with us, Friedericus?" cried Peter
Schmidt, jumping to his feet. Though the artists had great fondness and
respect for Peter Schmidt and went to him for advice, yet, whenever he
was with them, a violent discussion invariably arose whether art or
science deserves precedence in the field of human culture, Peter, of
course, championing the cause of science. "If you were to throw that
wooden statue into the fire," he said, "it would burn like wood. Neither
the wood nor the immortal art infusing it resists fire. And once it burns
to ashes, it can, of course, be of no significance to the world's
progress. The world is full of marvellous gods and mothers of God, and so
far as I know, they never cast a single ray of light into the night of
the darkest ignorance."

"I'm not saying anything against science," Frederick declared laughing,
"I am merely speaking of a very unsettled man's love of art. So be at
ease, Peter."

"If sculpture really attracts you," said Miss Burns, who had given her
exclusive attention to Frederick, "why don't you begin right away to
model here under Mr. Ritter? Begin to-morrow."

"I can't say I know very much about wood-carving," said Ritter, gaily.
"However, I am entirely at Doctor von Kammacher's disposal."

"I cannot leave my little Madonna, my wooden Mother of God," cried
Frederick, flushed with the wine, rising and holding up his glass. The
others followed his example, laughing; and they dra