serious reflections
upon the superfluousness of a second newspaper, how perfectly
unnecessary it was in fact.

"This _Vossian Gazette_ is perfectly intolerable," thought he.
"There ought to be a law prohibiting the publishing of more than one
newspaper in each town. Then the public would always get reliable
news, and draw its political opinions from one source, which would be
undoubted, and it would accept as true what we gave forth for truth.
If the government would follow this plan, and allow only one newspaper
to each town, and conciliate this one with money or patronage, mankind
would be much happier and more contented, and less liable to be
distracted by the most opposite political views and information. What
profits the existence of this _Vossian Gazette_? What does it do
but rob me of my subscribers? By Heavens! I wish the Russian would
exterminate it thoroughly."

While Mr. Krause was thus speaking to himself, Mr. Kretschmer had
followed the same course of thought, and, very naturally, arrived at
a similar conclusion. He, too, had to confess that _Spener's Journal_
was very inconvenient, and hated its editor from the bottom of his
heart. In the vehemence of his vexation, he overlooked the necessary
precaution, and cried out, "Cursed be this rival, this man who has the
presumption to imagine he can compete with me!"

Mr. Krause shuddered at the sound of this voice, which seemed to him
as it were the echo of his own unspoken thoughts, but he mastered
his alarm, and cried aloud, "Did any one speak?" "Did any one speak?"
sounded back again, and two heads were seen protruding from the
pillars on each side of the gate, the eyes in them inquiringly peering
at each other. The morning in the mean while had become lighter, and,
with an inward shudder, the two gentlemen recognized each other.

"It is _Spener's_! May the devil take him!" thought Mr. Kretschmer.

"It is the _Vossian_! Damn the fellow!" thought Mr. Krause.

But while they thought this to themselves, they rushed forward and
embraced each other, with greetings and assurances of friendship, to
all appearances warm and sincere.

"I am not mistaken! It is my dear friend Krause."

"Oh, what happiness! my dear Kretschmer!"

And they shook each other's hands and repeated their asseverations of
friendship and esteem, but, at the same time, breathed in their hearts
their curses and execrations. But the two editors were not the only
persons who had sought th