rapion Brethren.
Besides, rather an unfortunate thing happened with regard to Leander,
through Lothair's fault. Lothair told him about our delightful Serapion
Brotherhood, in his usual enthusiastic style. He talked hyperbolically
of the admirable tendency of the Serapiontic principle, and asseverated
nothing less than that we meant--keeping that principle constantly in
view--to incite each other to undertake all sorts of interesting and
important work. On that, Leander said that an opportunity of
associating himself in this way with literary people was what it had
long been his most ardent desire to meet with, and that he hoped, if we
would admit him to our order, to prove himself a highly meritorious
brother of it. He added that he had a great many things _in petto_, and
as he said so, he made an involuntary movement of his hand towards one
of his coat pockets. It was stuffed to fatness; and, to my alarm, I saw
that the other pocket was so too; they were both distended with
manuscripts, and papers of an alarming aspect were sticking out of his
breast pocket as well."

Here Ottmar was interrupted by the somewhat boisterous entry of
Lothair, who was followed by Cyprian.

"A certain little storm cloud," said Theodore, "has been forming,
rather threateningly, in the atmosphere of this Serapion Brotherhood of
ours. However, Ottmar has managed to dispel it cleverly. Leander wanted
to come bothering us, and stuck to poor Ottmar like grim death, till he
managed to give him the slip in the dark."

"Why didn't he bring him?" asked Lothair. "He's a witty, clever,
intelligent fellow: I can't think of a more eligible member of our
society."

"How exactly like you that is," said Ottmar: "you are always the same
old Lothair; always changing your mind; always a member of the
opposition. If I had brought him, you would have been the very first to
find fault with me most bitterly. You say Leander is intelligent,
clever, and witty. Very well; so he is--all that and more. Everything
he writes has a roundness and a finish which evinces soundness of
criticism and clearness of judgment; but, in the first place, I don't
believe there is a man on this earth who is so absolutely devoid of any
trace of the Serapiontic principle. Everything he writes he has most
maturely thought out, weighed, and considered in all its aspects, but
never really _seen_. His reasoning faculty does not control his
imagination; it puts itself in its place. Then h