entertaining things going on amongst you (entertaining you, at the same time, with whatever the spirit moved me to contribute to you). But it is absurd to continue in this vein. Is there, in Lothair's mind, really the slightest trace of that which his momentary 'out-of-tuneness' has made him say? Does he not himself admit that the cause of his being out of tune is merely the fact of our having been dispersed?"

"Theodore's illness," said Lothair, "which nearly sent him to his grave, was not a matter, either, calculated to put me into a happy state of mind."

"No," said Ottmar, "but Theodore is well again; and as to the Serapion Club, I cannot see why it should not be considered to be in full working order, now that three of the Brethren are met together."

"Ottmar is perfectly right," said Theodore; "it is a matter of indisputable necessity that we should have a meeting, in true Serapiontic fashion, as early as possible. The germ which we form will sprout into a tree full of fresh life and vigour, bearing flowers and fruit--I mean that that bird of passage, Cyprian, will come back: Sylvester will soon be unhappy, there where he is, away; and when the nightingales cease singing, he will long for music of another kind; and Vincent will emerge from the billows again, no doubt, and chirp his little song."

"Have it your own way," said Lothair, rather more gently than before; "only don't expect me to have anything to do with it. However, I promise that I will be present when you assemble Serapiontically; and, as Theodore ought to be in the open air as much as possible, I suggest that we hold our meeting out of doors."

So they fixed upon the last day of May--which was only a few days off--for the time; and on a pretty public-garden in the neighbourhood, not too much frequented, for the place, of their next Serapiontic meeting.

A thunderstorm, passing quickly over, and merely sprinkling the trees and bushes with a few drops of Heaven's balsam, had relieved the sultry oppressiveness of the day. The beautiful garden was lying all still, in the most exquisite brightness. The delicious perfume of leaves and flowers streamed through it, while the birds, twittering and trilling in happiness, went rustling amongst the branches, and bathed themselves in the bedewed leafage.

"How refreshed I feel, through and through!" Theodore cried, when the friends had sate themselves down in the shade of some thickly-foliaged lime-trees; "every trace of illness, down to the most infinitesimal, has left me. I feel as if a redoubled life had dawned on me, in my active consciousness of reciprocity of action between me and the external. A man must have been as ill as I have been to be capable of this sensation, which, strengthening mind and body, must surely be (as I feel it to be) the true life-elixir which the Eternal Power, the ruling World-spirit, administers to us, directly and without intermediation. The vivifying breath of Nature is breathing out of my own breast. I seem to be floating in that glorious blue Heaven which is vaulted over us, with every burden lifted away from me!"

"This," said Ottmar, "shows that you are quite well again, beloved friend; and all glory to the Eternal Power which fitted you out with an organisation strong enough to survive an illness like that which you have gone through. It is a marvel that you recovered at all, and still a greater that you recovered so quickly."

"For my part," said Lothair, "I am not surprised that he got well so soon, because I never had a moment's doubt that he would. You may believe me, Ottmar, when I tell you that, wretched as the state in which his physical condition appeared to be, he was never really ill, mentally; and so long as the spirit keeps sound--well! it was really enough to vex one to death that Theodore, ill as he was, was always in better spirits than I was, although I was a perfectly well and sound man; and that, so soon as his bodily sufferings gave him an interval of rest, he delighted in the wildest fun and jests. At the same time, he has the rare power of remembering his feverish illusions. The doctor had forbidden him to talk; but when I wished to tell him this, that and the other in quiet moments, he would motion me to be silent and not disturb his thoughts, which were busy over some important composition, or other matter of the kind."

"Yes," said Theodore, laughing, "I can assure you that Lothair's communications were of a very peculiar kidney at that time. Directly after the dispersion of the Serapion Brethren he became possessed by a foul fiend of evil humours. This you probably have gathered; but you cannot, by any possibility, divine the extraordinary ideas which he got into his head at this period of gloom and dejection. One day he came to my bedside (for I had taken to my bed by that time) stating that the old Chronicle Books were the grandest and richest mines and treasure-houses of tales, legends, novels and dramas. Cyprian said the same long ago, and it is true. Next day I noticed, although my malady was besetting me sorely, that Lothair was sitting immersed in an old folio. Moreover, he went every day to the public library and got together all the old Chronicles he could lay his hands upon. That was all very well; but, besides, he got his head filled with the strange old legends which are contained in those venerable books; and when, in my hours of comparative quiet, he bestirred himself to talk to me on 'entertaining' subjects, what I heard of was war and pestilence, monstrous abortions, hurricanes, comets, fires and floods, witches, auto-da-fé's, enchantments, miracles, and, above all other subjects, his talk was of the manifold works and devices of the Devil--who, as we know, plays such an important part in all those old stories that one can hardly imagine what has become of him now, when he seems to keep so quietly in the background, unless he may perhaps have put on some new dress which renders him unrecognizable. Now tell me, Ottmar, don't you think such subjects of conversation well suited for a man in my then state of health?"

"Don't condemn me unheard," cried Lothair. "It is true, and I will maintain it fearlessly, that, for writers of tales, there is an immense amount of splendid material in those ancient Chronicles. But you know that I have never taken much interest in them, and least of all in their diablerie. However, the evening before Cyprian went away I had a great argument with him as to his having far too much to do with the Devil and his family; and I told him candidly that my present opinion of his tale, 'The Singers' Contest,' is that it is a thoroughly faulty and bungling piece of work, although when he read it to us I approved of it, for many specious reasons. Upon this he attacked me in the character of a real advocatum diaboli, and told me such a quantity of things, out of old Chronicles and from other sources, that my head fairly reeled. And then, when Theodore fell ill, I was seized upon and overmastered by real, bitter gloom and misery. Somehow, I scarce know how or why, Cyprian's 'Singers' Contest' came back to my mind again. Nay, the Devil himself appeared to me in person one night when I couldn't sleep; and although I was a good deal frightened by the evil fellow, still I could not help respecting him, and paying him my duty as an ever helpful aide-de-camp of tale-writers in lack of help; and, by way of spiting you all, I determined to set to work and surpass even Cyprian himself in the line of the fearsome and the terrible."

"You, Lothair, undertake the fearful and terrible!" said Ottmar, laughing--"you, whose bright and fanciful genius would seem expressly adapted to wave the wand of comedy!"

"Even so," said Lothair; "such was my idea. And as a first step towards carrying it out, I set to work to