of visiting Berlin? Tschernitscheff and Tottleben are quietly encamped
on the other side of the Oder; Soltikoff with his army is near
Frankfort; and Count Lacy with his Austrians is waiting an opportunity
to give battle to our king. Thus, as I said, I can safely exhort the
good citizens of Berlin to defend themselves heroically against the
infamous spoiler. How beautifully this peroration sounds: 'People
of Berlin! rather let yourselves be buried under the ruins of your
burning city than submit to an incendiary enemy!'--_Incendiary_,"
repeated he thoughtfully, "that is rather a strong expression, and if
the Russians do come, they will revenge themselves for it; but, pshaw!
the Russians are not coming, and I can safely send this article to
the press. And, furthermore, did not the king himself stigmatize the
Russians as such? Yes, I remember last year, after the unfortunate
invasion of the Russians, he looked down from the steeple in Frankfort
upon the devastation of the country, and cried out with angry
indignation, 'Incendiaries! incendiaries!' The expression is at least
official, and can therefore remain."

Mr. Kretschmer seized the bell-rope, and began to ring violently.
Immediately the door opened, and a small boy entered with a portfolio
under his arm.

"Devil," said Mr. Kretschmer, majestically, "here is my article; run
as fast as you can to the printing-office with it, and impress upon
the compositor the necessity of haste, and, above all things, not
to make such mistakes as he did lately, when, in speaking of
the Russians, he put 'friends' instead of 'fiends,' which was an
unpardonable and most treasonable error of expression."

The little boy took the paper and laid it in his portfolio.

"The printer told me to ask you," said he, "if you had written nothing
yet for the 'Miscellaneous.' _Spener's Journal_ had yesterday such
a beautiful 'Miscellaneous,' and told about a woman who had four
children at a birth, and a stork which had arrived and built its nest,
although it was the month of October."

Mr. Kretschmer frowned. "_Spener's Journal_ always has some wonderful
news, and amuses the Berlin people with all kinds of stupid gossip,"
grumbled he. "The rivalry of such a paper is unbearable."

"Well, how about the miscellaneous intelligence?" asked the printer's
boy.

Mr. Kretschmer stamped his foot angrily. "Go to the devil!" said he.

At this moment there was heard a loud crying and shouting; and while