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"Oh, no excuse will be taken. Katey
told me to give you the message herself."

Cecil looked at the young lady destined
for him, and who was now beside him.
He was dreadfully confused. Some near
him had caught the words. Mrs. Leader was
coming across. He cast an imploring look
at his master.

"I must be off," said the Doctor, gaily,
"and mind you are due, or perhaps," still
more gaily, "I may be coming up again to
look for you. Good-bye, Mrs. Leader: I
was telling Mr. Cecil we're keeping a
knife and fork for him at six. My two
girls insist on it."

"Oh, impossible," said the lady,
contemptuously, "quite impossible; he mustn't
think of it. He has his duties here."

"Oh! but quite possible, Mrs. Leader,"
said the Doctor. "He'll come, never fear.
This is an old engagement. Shall I call
up for you, Mr. Cecil? All right, don't
forget us at six." And the Doctor bowed to
all the company with great grace, and took
his leave. There was a strange and vexed
look on Mrs. Leader's face, and she at
once went to take counsel with her
husband, and the result of the deliberations
was made known to the Doctor in a letter
which reached him that afternoon.

DEAR SIR,—I beg to enclose a draft for
fifty pounds, which I trust you will
consider sufficient remuneration for your
attendance on my son during his illness. He
is now quite restored, I am happy to say,
so we shall not have occasion for any
further visits on your part, previous to his
departure on a foreign tour.

                  I am, sir,
                       Yours sincerely,
                             THOMAS LEADER.


IN the month of August, 1858, the
University of Jena celebrated its hundredth
jubilee, and it was at this festival that two
names shone out like stars upon the past
of the Thuringian alma mater. They were
those of Alexander von Humboldt and
Ernst Moritz Arndt. Of these two, the
latter was absent from the festivity, to the
great regret of all present, who drank to
the health and well-being of the great
German patriot, poet, and historian.
Insensibly, while shouting forth their
enthusiastic cheers, they fell into singing the
national song he had given to Germany,
and with which his memory has become
for ever associated. It was on this occasion
that Arndt wrote the following letter
to Dr. Robert Keil, who, together with his
brother, was at that time editing a history
of the student-life of Jena:

Bonn, 13th of the Harvest-month, 1858.

Jena (so ran the end of the letter)
celebrates within the next few days its
third great anniversary. They have kindly
invited me, an overaged man, to this festival,
but my years say to me, "Stay at home.
The honour and pleasures of this great
festival might carry you, who are so
venturesome and so easily excited, away in its
joyful rushing tide, and wash down and
bear you off, you who are but a half-
withered pine." I shall therefore bless
you from the distance, and cry: "Vivat
Thuringia et omnes Thuringi et

But, notwithstanding his own comparison,
he was no half-withered pine. Fast
and firm he still stood planted in that German
soil he had loved so truly, and he was
still fresh and strong on the 26th of
December, 1859, when his ninetieth birthday
was celebrated as a day of rejoicing by the
whole nation. He was inundated with
addresses, orations, telegrams, and letters, and
it was in answer to one of the letters from
Dr. Robert Keil that he wrote this
characteristic note:

Bonn, 12 Winter-month, 1860.

Thanks, hearty thanks, for all your kind
congratulations. I have been almost
overwhelmed with good wishes, honours, and
pleasures on my entry into my ninety-first
year, and to-day I am still tired from the
overpowering load. I will see if God
intends me to be a German centenarian
wonder, and will continue my pilgrimage

How powerfully do these words affect us
in this year of grace, 1870, when, if he had
lived, the good Father Arndt, and had
become the centenarian he spoke of, he might
have beheld his beloved hope of seeing the
Germans united on the verge of realisation.

The saying is trite that events repeat
themselves, that there is nothing new under
the sun, that all things move in a cycle.
Yet it seems curiously verified just now.
Once more the whole German people rise
up as one man against the incursions of
a Napoleon, and, as if further to repeat the
similarity, the same songs that were sung