“I read The Origin of Evil, in our Haller’s works, And determined, with some scores, To mark all interesting places. I read, I scored, read on, enjoyed it more, And when I finished, lo, it was all—score.” Grillparzer and Hebbel It would be hard to find two more different natures than those two authors and poets. Hebbel was a giant, full of self-consciousness and spiritual pride, classing himself with Shakespeare. Grillparzer was simple, painfully modest and retiring. While both were at Vienna, Grillparzer was invited to meet Hebbel, at an evening company, which honor he declined with the following words: “I have a great respect for what he writes, but, you see, I don’t feel at home near him. I am truly afraid of him. He is too clever for me. He often starts queer subjects to converse about. He is, for instance, fully capable of asking you: ‘What is God?’ Well, I don’t know, but he does. Now, since I cannot argue with him, I should have to sit there like a mute.” A Sad Waste Kästner once criticised a book like this:—“This book is printed on the worst kind of paper. What a pity to waste so much good paper!” Slightly Misunderstood A stranger in München asked a gentleman where the painter Kaulbach lived. “Kaulbach? The painter Kaulbach?” said he. “I don’t know the man, but if you need a painter, I can recommend painter X. very much; he painted my landlord’s doors and windows very well and very cheap.” Gotthold Ephraim Lessing “Your book is full of donkey ears again,” said his father to the little Lessing. “Why father, that book has a perfect right to donkey ears,” answered the future great dramatist and critic. Forgot to Count the Money Lessing once had a servant, of whose honesty he was warned repeatedly. For a long time he paid no attention to this, but finally he concluded to test the man. He told a friend that he had left some money on the table, to see whether their suspicions were well founded. “But did you count how much you put there?” asked the friend who knew Lessing’s absent-mindedness. Lessing looked at him startled; the need of counting it had never occurred to him. Who He Was One day Lessing entered an inn and sat down to write. The host came and asked him who he was. Lessing, intent on his writing, did not answer. Then the landlord came close to his side, looked over his paper and asked again harshly: “Who are you, sir; I wish to know!” Lessing turned around and said very seriously: “I am Lucas the Evangelist.” The saint, be it remembered, is always painted with an ox at his side. Called Him Names While Lessing was with Lichtenberg in Göttingen, they talked one time about genius. Lichtenberg said: “You are a genius!” To which Lessing replied: “I feel tempted to box the ears of anybody who calls me names like that.” Absent-minded Men