sir, this morning I received a letter from my
valued friend in the country, in which he speaks in terms of strong
admiration (I don't overstate) of your German acquirements. Sir, he says
that it would be a thousand pities if your knowledge of the German
language should be lost to the world, or even permitted to sleep, and he
entreats me to think of some plan by which it may be turned to account.
Sir, I am at all times willing, if possible, to oblige my worthy friend,
and likewise to encourage merit and talent; I have, therefore, determined
to employ you in German."

"Sir," said I, rubbing my hands, "you are very kind, and so is our mutual
friend; I shall be happy to make myself useful in German; and if you
think a good translation from Goethe--his 'Sorrows' for example, or more
particularly his 'Faust'--"

"Sir," said the publisher, "Goethe is a drug; his 'Sorrows' are a drug,
so is his 'Faustus,' more especially the last, since that fool ---
rendered him into English. No, sir, I do not want you to translate
Goethe or anything belonging to him; nor do I want you to translate
anything from the German; what I want you to do, is to translate into
German. I am willing to encourage merit, sir; and, as my good friend in
his last letter has spoken very highly of your German acquirements, I
have determined that you shall translate my book of philosophy into
German."

"Your book of philosophy into German, sir?"

"Yes, sir; my book of philosophy into German. I am not a drug, sir, in
Germany, as Goethe is here, no more is my book. I intend to print the
translation at Leipzig, sir; and if it turns out a profitable
speculation, as I make no doubt it will, provided the translation be well
executed, I will make you some remuneration. Sir, your remuneration will
be determined by the success of your translation."

"But, sir--"

"Sir," said the publisher, interrupting me, "you have heard my
intentions; I consider that you ought to feel yourself highly gratified
by my intentions towards you; it is not frequently that I deal with a
writer, especially a young writer, as I have done with you. And now,
sir, permit me to inform you that I wish to be alone. This is Sunday
afternoon, sir; I never go to church, but I am in the habit of spending
part of every Sunday afternoon alone--profitably, I hope, sir--in musing
on the magnificence of nature and the moral dignity of man."

CHAPTER XXXIV.

"What can't be cured must be e