were asked, describe the happiest and proudest hour of your life?"

A new expression came into the poet's eyes, and lighted up his gaunt
intellectual face. Some old memories awoke within him, and it is
doubtful if he saw the landscape at which he was gazing. But the Duke
was not quick, though kind; he thought that Friedrich had not heard
him, and repeated the question.

"Yes," said the poet. "Yes, indeed I could."

"Well, then, let me guess," said the Duke, facetiously. (He fancied
that he was bringing his crusty genius into capital condition.) "Was
it when your great tragedy of 'Boadicea' was first performed in
Berlin, and the theatre rose like one man to offer homage, and the
gods sent thunder? I wish they had ever treated my humble efforts with
as much favour. Was it then?"

"No!"

"Was it when his Imperial Majesty the Emperor of ---- was pleased to
present you with a gold snuff-box set with diamonds, and to express
his opinion that your historical plays were incomparably among the
finest productions of poetic genius?"

"His Imperial Majesty," said Friedrich, "is a brave soldier; but,
a--hem!--an indifferent critic. I do not take snuff, and his Imperial
Majesty does not read poetry. The interview was gratifying, but that
was not the occasion. No!"

"Was it when you were staying with Dr. Kranz at G----, and the