rks."

"For a suggestion of that sort," said Ottmar, "I have to thank our
friend Severin, who, when he comes back here, as I expect him to do
immediately, will make a much better Serapion Brother than Leander. I
was sitting with him in the Thiergarten, Berlin, when there happened,
before our eyes, the incident which suggested the story called 'A
Fragment of the Lives of Three Friends,' which I wrote, and have
brought with me to read to you to-night; for when (as you shall
presently hear) the pretty girl read the letter, which had been
privately handed to her, with tears in her eyes, Severin cast pregnant
glances at me, and whispered, 'There's something for you, Ottmar; let
your fancy move its wings; write at once all about the girl, the
letter, and her tears.' I did so, and here you have the result."

The friends sat down at the round table; Ottmar took a manuscript from
his pocket, and read--

'A FRAGMENT OF THE LIVES OF THREE FRIENDS.

"One Whit Monday the 'Webersche Zelt,' a place of public resort in the
Thiergarten, Berlin, was so densely crowded by people of every sort and
kind that it was only by dint of unremitting and assiduous shouting,
and the most dogged perseverance of pursuit, that Alexander succeeded
in capturing a much-vexed and greatly-badgered waiter, and inducing him
to set out a small table under the trees beside the water, where he,
with his friends Severin and Marzell (who had managed, by the exercise
of fine strategical talent, to possess themselves of a couple of
chairs), sat down in the happiest possible frame of mind. It was only a
few days since they had come back to Berlin. Alexander had arrived from
a distant province to take possession of the heritage of an aunt
deceased, and the two others had come back to resume the duties of
their Government appointments, from which they had been absent for a
considerable time on military duty, during the important campaign which
was just at an end. This was the day when they had arranged to
celebrate their reunion in famous style, and, as it often happens, it
was the Present, with its doings and strivings, more than the eventful
Past, that was occupying their minds.

"'I can assure you,' said Alexander, taking up the steaming coffee-pot
and filling the cups, 'that if you saw me in my aunt's old house--how I
wander pathetically up and down the lofty chambers hung with gloomy
tapestry; how Mistress Anne, my aunt's former housekeeper,