rs need money, and we
have fallen upon evil times."

"Yes, truly, sire, evil times; but it lies in your majesty's hands to
change all this, if you would give peace to Germany."

"How can I?" cried the king, violently. "Have you not heard that there
are three against me?"

"I care more for ancient than modern history," said Gellert, who did not
desire to follow the king upon the slippery field of politics.

"You, then, are accurately acquainted with the ancients?" said the
king. "Which, then, do you think the greatest and most renowned of that
epoch--Homer or Virgil?"

"Homer, I think, merits the preference, because he is original."

"But Virgil is more polished and refined."

Gellert shook his head violently. Now that the old writers were being
discussed, the German sage overcame his timidity.

"We are entirely too widely separated from Virgil to be able to judge
of his language and style. I trust to Quintilian, who gives Homer the
preference."

"But we must not be slaves to the judgment of the ancients," said the
king, aroused.

"I am not, sire; I only adopt their views when distance prevents my
judging for myself."

"You are certainly right in this," said the king, kindly. "Altogether
you appear to be a wise and reasonable man. I understand that you have
greatly improved the German language."

"Ah, yes, sire, but unfortunately it has been in vain."

"Why is this?" said the king. "You all wish me to interest myself in
German, but it is such a barbarous language, that I often have quires
of writing sent me, of which I do not understand a word. Why is it not
otherwise?"

"If your majesty cannot reform this, I certainly cannot," said Gellert,
smiling; "I can only advise, but you can command."

"But your poems are not written in this stiff, pompous German. Do you
not know one of your fables by heart?"

"I doubt it, sire, my memory is very treacherous."

"Well, try and think of one. In the mean while I will walk backward and
forward a little. Well, have you thought of one?"

"Yes, your majesty," said Gellert, after a brief silence, "I believe I
remember one."

"Let us hear it," said the king; and, seating himself upon the fauteuil,
he gazed fixedly at Gellert, who, standing in the middle of the room,
his clear glance turned toward the king, now began his recitation.

"THE PAINTER."

"A painter, Athens his abode,
Who painted less for love of gain
Than crowns of laurel to