on his high tripod before his desk, could not but
believe that Mr. Kretschmer was a learned man.

But more than this, he was a great politician. Thereto testified the
numerous journals which lay scattered about on the floor, but more
especially the nineteen quarto volumes, which stood above on the
book-shelf, lettered in gold on the back, "VOSSIAN GAZETTE," and under
that the number of the year, from 1740 to 1759. The _Vossian Gazette_
was then a young, blooming rose, of scarcely nineteen summers. It
could still pass for a vigorous, handsome, and perhaps even innocent
young maiden; and Mr. Kretschmer was the editor of the _Vossian
Gazette_. Had he not, then, a right to be regarded as a great
politician?

Mr. Kretschmer was at this moment occupied in writing an article for
the next morning's paper, and as he had just received news "by special
courier" of another battle, subsequent to that of Liegnitz, which
had resulted favorably for the Prussians, he was composing, with the
courage of a lion, an extra, which fairly glowed with ardent hatred
against the oppressors and cannibals, namely, the Russians and the
Austrians; and declared that the salvation of all Germany depended on
the supreme dominion of Prussia.

The bold editor of the _Vossian Gazette_ in this article called
upon the people to fly to arms against the "incendiary oppressors
of Freedom and the people's rights," as he called the Russians; he
exhorted even the women and girls to fight, and called upon them to
grasp the sword in their tender hands instead of the needle. Finally,
he entreated all Berlin, if ever the _incendiary enemy_ should
approach the gates, rather to let the whole city be destroyed by fire,
and bury themselves in the ruins before they submitted to the foe.

Mr. Kretschmer then laid his pen down, and revised with a satisfied
look what he had written.

"That will have an effect," said he, rubbing his hands together,
delighted. "When his majesty, our heroic king, returns victorious to
Berlin, I will send him this sheet of the _Vossian Gazette_, and I
know that he will be satisfied with my heroism."

He looked again at the paper. "Beautiful, beautiful!" exclaimed
he, with a self-satisfied smile. "My pen has shot nothing less than
bomb-shells and grape, and my ink has turned into whole streams of the
enemy's blood. And why should I not be bold, it being perfectly safe,
since the king must certainly be victorious, and the enemy has no idea