feeling of new light and life, in terms whose modesty might have done honor to the wisest.
This afternoon we met Mr.—— in his wood; and he sat down and told us the story of his life, his courtship, and painted the portraits of his father and mother with most amusing naivete.
How do you think I offered myself?
I never had told Miss—— that I loved her; never told her she was handsome; and I went to her, and said, “Miss—— , I've come to offer myself; but first I'll give you my character.
I'm very poor; you'll have to work: I'm very cross and irascible; you'll have everything to bear: and I've liked many other pretty girls.
Now what do you say?
” and she said, “I'll have you:” and she's been everything to me.
My mother was a Calvinist, very strict, but she was always reading “ Abelard and Eloisa,” and crying over it. At sixteen, I said to her: “ Mother, you've brought me up well; you've kept me strict.
Why don't I feel that regeneration they talk of?
why an't I one of the elect?”
And she talked to me about the potter using his clay as he pleased; and I said: “ Mother, God is not a potter: He's a perfect being; and he can't treat the vessels he makes, anyhow, but with perfect justice, or he's no God.
So I'm no Calvinist.”
Here is a very different picture:—
——has infinite grace and shading in her character: a springing and tender fancy, a Madonna depth of meditative softness, and a purity which has been unstained, and keeps her dignified even in the most