_The Y.L._ (_enthusiastically_). Yes, indeed. What names rise to one's
mind instinctively MELANCHTHON, JOHN HUSS, KRAFT, and PETER VISCHER,
and DUeRER, and WOHLGEMUT, and MAXIMILIAN THE FIRST, and LOUIS OF
BAVARIA!
_Culch._ (_who has read up the local history, and does not intend to
be beaten at this game_). Precisely. And the imperious MARGRAVE OF
BRANDENBURG, and WALLENSTEIN; and GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS, and GOETZ VON
BERLICHINGEN. One can almost see their--er--picturesque personalities
still haunting the narrow streets as we look down.
_The Y.L._ I find it impossible to distinguish even the streets from
here, I confess, but you probably see with the imagination of an
artist. _Are_ you one by any chance?
_Culch._ Only in words; that is, I record my impressions in a poetic
form. A perfect sonnet may render a scene, a mood, a passing thought,
more indelibly than the most finished sketch; may it not?
_The Y.L._ That is quite true; indeed, I occasionally relieve my
feelings by the composition of Greek or Latin verses, which I find, on
the whole, better adapted to express the subtler emotions. Don't you
agree with me there?
_Culch._ (_who has done no Greek or Latin verse since he left
school_). Doubtless. But I am hindering your sketch?
_The Y.L._ No, I was merely saturating my mind with the general
effect. I shall not really begin my sketch till to-morrow. I am going
now. I hope the genius of the place will inspire you.
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