Twelfth Evening"I looked through the windows of an editor's house," said
the Moon. "It was somewhere in Germany. I saw handsome furniture,
many books, and a chaos of newspapers. Several young men were
present: the editor himself stood at his desk, and two little
books, both by young authors, were to be noticed. 'This one has
been sent to me,' said he. 'I have not read it yet; what think you
of the contents?' 'Oh,' said the person addressed—he was a poet
himself—'it is good enough; a little broad, certainly; but, you
see, the author is still young. The verses might be better, to be
sure; the thoughts are sound, though there is certainly a good deal
of common-place among them. But what will you have? You can't be
always getting something new. That he'll turn out anything great I
