nderstand that I am speaking of true narrative, not of the novel,
so much, because that has often in it germs from which the drama can
grow up like a glorious, beautiful tree."

"What do you think," asked Vincenz, "of the admirable idea of making a
story out of a play? Some years ago I read Iffland's 'Jaeger' turned
into a story, and you can't believe how delightful and touching little
Anton with the couteau de chasse, and Riekchen with the lost shoe, were
in this shape. It was delightful, too, that the author, or adapter,
preserved whole scenes unchanged, merely putting in the 'said he,' and
'answered she,' between the speeches. I assure you I did not wholly
realise the truly poetic imagination, and the deep sublimity which
there is in Iffland's 'Jaeger,' until I read it in this form. Moreover,
the scientific side of it struck me then, and I saw how properly it was
classed in a certain library under the head 'Science of Forestry.'"

"Cease your funning," said Lothair, "and lend, with us, an attentive
ear to the worthy Serapion Brother who, as I perceive, has just pulled
a manuscript out of his pocket."

"This time," said Theodore, "I have trespassed upon another's ground.
However, there is a real incident at the basis of my story, not taken
from any book, but told to me by another."

He read:--

GAMBLERS' FORTUNE.

In the summer of 18-- Pyrmont was more than usually frequented, and the
influx of visitors, rich and great, increased from day to day, exciting
the eager emulation of the various speculators and purveyors of their
wants. Particularly did the faro-table keepers heap up piles of gold in
unusual quantity, for the attraction of the noble game, which, like
experienced sportsmen, they set themselves to decoy. As we all know, at
watering-places especially--where people resolve to give themselves up,
at their own sweet will, to whatever amusements may be most to their
taste, to get through the time---the attractions of the play-table are
not easy to resist. We see people who never touch a card at other
times, absorbed at those tables; and, in fact, among the upper classes,
at all events, it is thought only a proper thing to stake something
every evening.

There was but one exception to this otherwise universal rule, in the
person of a young German Baron, whom we shall call Siegfried. When
everybody else rushed to the tables, and there was no way left to him
to amuse himself in