As I stood thus enwrapped in the fervour of devotion, I heard some one calling out beside me, “How beautiful is nature on the whole!” These words proceeded out of the overflowing breast of my room-mate, the young merchant. I was at once landed thereby in my work-day mood, and was now able to make a great many brilliant remarks to the ladies about the sunset. I escorted them to their room as if nothing had happened. I believe we talked about Angora cats, Etruscan vases, Turkish shawls, macaroni, and Lord Byron, from whose poems the elder lady recalled some sunset passages, which she recited with a pretty lisp and sigh. To the younger lady, who did not know English, and expressed a wish to read these poems, I recommended some excellent translations. Upon this occasion I did not fail to declaim, as it is my custom to do when conversing with young ladies, against Byron’s impiety, heartlessness, hopelessness, and heaven knows what all. It was the coffee’s fault that I had forgotten my pretty lady. She was standing outside of the door with her mother and companion, preparing to get into the carriage. There was but just time for me to step up to her briskly and assure her that it was cold. She seemed displeased that I had not come sooner; but I smoothed the pettish frown from her fair brow by bestowing a wonderful flower upon her, which I had picked the day before from a steep precipice at the danger of breaking my neck. Her mother demanded the name of the flower, considering it improper as it were for her daughter to wear a strange, unknown flower upon her bosom. Her taciturn companion unexpectedly opened his mouth, counted the stamens of the flower, and dryly remarked that it belonged to the eighth class. It aggravates me when I see how God’s dear flowers are parcelled off into classes as well as we, and indeed, according to a method no less superficial--viz., the difference in the number of stamens. If there must be subdivision, it would be well to follow the suggestion of Theophrast, who would have flowers classified according to their spirit--that is, their fragrance. So far as I am concerned, I have my own system in natural science, and according to it I classify all things--into those that are good to eat, and those that are not. _Heinrich Heine._ _MY APPRECIATIVE FRIEND._ HE called my attention to the utility and perfect adaptation of nature. The trees are green, it seems, because green is good for one’s eyes. I assented, and added that God has created cattle, because broth is strengthening to men, and that he has created asses that we might have a means of comparison, and that he has created man himself to eat broth and be no ass. My companion was enchanted to have found a congenial spirit; his countenance beamed happiness, and at parting he seemed deeply touched. _Heinrich Heine._ “_MADAM, DO YOU KNOW THE OLD PLAY?_” “She was lovable, and he loved her. But he was not lovable, and she did not love him.”--_Old Play._