Mons. Romocki, the proprietor of Oborów, once sold his wheat to a Jewish merchant. Hearing of the purchase, Frederic wrote a letter in the Polo-Jewish style, purporting to come from the buyer, and stating that, after mature consideration, he found he should be a loser by the bargain, and, therefore, declined it. The writing was abominable, the spelling full of blunders, but the deception succeeded so well that Romocki was in a frightful rage. He sent for the Jew instantly, and would probably have soundly belaboured the unfortunate merchant had not Frederic confessed his mischievous trick in time. Romocki laughed at the joke, and was on his guard against being taken in again by Frederic. The deeper meaning underlying all the acts of this accomplished man in later years showed itself even here. Romocki was ashamed of his fury, and it is said from that day he very rarely, and only from necessity, took a whip in his hand. Between 1820 and 1830 there was an Evangelical pastor in Warsaw, named Tetzner, who preached every Sunday in German and Polish alternately, and from his defective knowledge of the language, proclaimed the truths of the gospel in very broken Polish. Being led into his church from curiosity, Frederic was at once struck by the droll speech of the preacher, and carefully noticed every wrongly pronounced word. When he reached home, he constructed a kind of pulpit with tables and chairs, put on a whig, and, summoning the family, delivered a discourse in imitation of the pastorʼs broken Polish, which was so ludicrous that his hearers burst into roars of laughter.