every one to recognise as real whatever may in any way seem to him, the inventor, as true.
But what is here told only in general terms, and by way of reflection, will perhaps become more apparent and interesting by means of an example. I subjoin, therefore, one of these tales, which, as I often had to repeat it to my comrades, still hovers entire in my imagination and memory.
THE NEW PARIS.
A boy's legend.
On the night before Whitsunday, not long since, I dreamed that I stood before a mirror engaged with the new summer clothes which my dear parents had given me for the holiday. The dress consisted, as you know, of shoes of polished leather, with large silver buckles, fine cotton stockings, black nether garments of serge, and a coat of green baracan with gold buttons. The waistcoat of gold cloth was cut out of my father's bridal waistcoat. My hair had been frizzled and powdered, and my curls stuck out from my head like little wings; but I could not finish dressing myself, because I kept confusing the different articles, the first always falling off as soon as I was about to put on the next. In this dilemma, a young and handsome man came to me, and greeted me in the friendliest manner. "Oh! you are welcome," said I: "I am very glad to see you here."—"Do you know me, then?" replied he, smiling, "Why not?" was my no less smiling answer. "You are Mercury—I have often enough seen you represented in pictures."—"I am, indeed," replied he, "and am sent to you by the gods on an important errand. Do you see these three apples? "He stretched forth his hand and showed me three apples, which it
