f the young elegant, dressed in the latest fashion. To-day he
wore a white garment, of no particular style, tied at the neck with a
red ribbon (full sleeves, buttoned at the wrist with lace-cuffs); and,
falling from the shoulders in scanty folds to just below the knees, it
displayed his bare legs, and his feet shod with red sandals.

His hair was unpowdered, and not tied in a cue, according to the
fashion, but hung in its natural brown color, flowing quite loosely,
merely confined by a red ribbon wound in among his curls, and hanging
down in short bows at each temple like the frontlet of the old Romans.
Thus, in this singular costume, belonging half to old Adam, and half
to the old Romans, Philip Moritz walked back and forth upon the carpet,
ruminating upon the beaming beauty of the stranger whose acquaintance
he had so recently made, and whom he could not banish from his thoughts.
"What wicked demon induced me to go to Potsdam yesterday?" said he to
himself. "I who hate mankind, and believe that they are all of vulgar,
ordinary material, yield to the longing for society, and am driven again
into the world."

A loud knocking at the door interrupted this soliloquy, and the door
opened at the commanding "Come in!"

"It is he, it is Apollo," cried Moritz, joyfully. "Come in, sir, come
in--I have awaited you with the most ardent desire."

Moritz rushed to the young gentleman, who had just closed the door,
and whose beautiful, proud face lighted up with a smile at the singular
apparition before him. "Pardon me, I disturb you, sir; you were about to
make your toilet. Permit me to return after you have dressed."

"You are mistaken," cried Moritz, eagerly. "You find me in my usual
home-dress--I like my ease and freedom, and I am of opinion that mankind
will never be happy and contented until they return to their natural
state, wearing no more clothing, but glorying in the beauty which
bountiful Nature has bestowed upon her most loved and chosen subjects."

"Sir," cried the other, laughing, "then benevolent Nature should
adapt her climate accordingly, and relieve her dear creatures from the
inclination to take cold."

"You may be right," said Moritz, earnestly, "but we will not quarrel
about it. Will you not keep your promise to reveal to me your name?"

"Tell me your own once more. Tell me if this youth, whom I see before
me in this ideal dress, is the same modest young man whom I met at
the parade yesterday, and who pr