Von Reineck was likewise an amateur of pinks:  the season of flowering had come, and suggestions were made as to whether these two could not visit each other.  We introduced the matter, and persisted in it; till at last Von Reineck resolved to go out with us one Sunday afternoon.  The greeting of the two old gentlemen was very laconic, indeed almost pantomimic; and they walked up and down by the long pink frames with true diplomatic strides.  The display was really extraordinarily beautiful:  and the particular forms and colors of the different flowers, the advantages of one over the other, and their rarity, gave at last occasion to a sort of conversation which appeared to get quite friendly; at which we others rejoiced the more because we saw the most precious old Rhine wine in cut decanters, fine fruits, and other good things spread upon a table in a neighboring bower.  But these, alas! we were not to enjoy.  For Von Reineck unfortunately saw a very fine pink with its head somewhat hanging down:  he therefore took the stalk near the calyx very cautiously between his fore and middle fingers, and lifted the flower so that he could well inspect it.  But even this gentle handling vexed the owner.  Von Malapert courteously, indeed, but stiffly enough, and somewhat self-complacently, reminded him of the Oculis, non manibus.[Footnote:  Eyes, not hands.—­TRANS.] Von Reineck had already let go the flower, but at once took fire at the words, and said in his usual dry, serious manner, that it was quite consistent with an amateur to touch and examine them in such a manner.  Whereupon he repeated the act, and took the flower again between his fingers.  The friends of both parties—­for Von Malapert also had one present—­were now in the greatest perplexity.  They set one hare to catch another (that was our proverbial expression, when a conversation was to be interrupted, and turned to another subject), but it would not do; the old gentleman had become quite silent:  and we feared every moment that Von Reineck would repeat the act, when it would be all over with us.  The two friends kept their principals apart by occupying them, now here, now there, and at last we found it most expedient to make preparation for departure.  Thus, alas! we were forced to turn our backs on the inviting side-board, yet unenjoyed.

Hofrath Huesgen, not born in Frankfort, of the Reformed [Footnote:  That is to say, he was a Calvinist, as distinguished from a Lutheran.—­ TRANS.] religion, and therefore incapable of public office, including the profession of advocate, which, however, because much confidence was placed in him as an excellent jurist, he managed to exercise quietly, both in the Frankfort and the imperial courts, under assumed signatures, was already sixty years old when I took writing-lessons with his son, and so came into his house.  His figure was tall without being thin, and broad without corpulency.  You could not look, for the first time, on his face, which was not only disfigured by