holds a seat in the wasp-nest of the Neue Allgemeine Deutsche Bibliothek.[1] Should the Parson ever chrysalize himself into an author, the watch-wasp may then buzz out, and dart its sting into the chrysalis, and put its own brood in the room of the murdered butterfly. As the Subrector everywhere went about, and threatened in plain terms that he would review his colleague, let not the public be surpised that Fixlein's Errata, and his Masoretic Exercitationes, are to this hour withheld from it.
In spring, the widowed church receives her new husband; and how it will be, when Fixlein, under a canopy of flower-trees, takes the Sponsa Christi in one hand, and his own Sponsa in the other,—this without an Eighth Letter-Box, which, in the present case, may be a true jewel-box and rainbow-key,[2] can no mortal figure, except the Sponsus himself.
