"No; why?"

"There is an admirable review of your poem in the last number I have
received."

The young nobleman looked agitated. "I think, by the style," continued
Vivian, "that it is by Goethe. It is really delightful to see the oldest
poet in Europe dilating on the brilliancy of a new star on the
poetical horizon."

This was uttered with a perfectly grave voice, and now the young
nobleman blushed. "Who is _Gewter_?" asked Mr. Boreall, who possessed
such a thirst for knowledge that he never allowed an opportunity to
escape him of displaying his ignorance.

"A celebrated German writer," lisped the modest Miss Macdonald.

"I never heard his name," persevered the indefatigable Boreall; "how do
you spell it?"

"GOETHE," re-lisped modesty.

"Oh! _Goty_!" exclaimed the querist. "I know him well: he wrote the
Sorrows of Werter."

"Did he indeed, sir?" asked Vivian, with the most innocent and inquiring
face.

"Oh! don't you know that?" said Boreall, "and poor stuff it is!"