dressed for the journey; Mr. Saunter reluctantly obeying the fifth and last call, at length rose and made himself ready. A hasty breakfast was dispatched, and Nathan was duly sent off to his post, to stop the coach.

It happened, however, that after he had stood sentinel a full half hour, an unruly cow from the highway broke through the fence and jumped into one of his master's enclosures, whereupon Nathan, considering his duty in that quarter paramount, deserted his station and ran off to turn the animal out and repair the breach. While he was thus employed, one of the farmer's children, playing in the field, saw the coach approaching, and ran to the house with the intelligence. Instantly the party obeyed the summons. The farmer's oldest boy took the travelling trunk on his shoulder, Mr. Saunter seized his portmanteau and umbrella, and Mrs. Saunter her basket, and the children following non passibus æquis, off they set, upon the run, towards the highway. They saw the coach coming rapidly along. The children shouted, the lady waved her handkerchief, and the gentleman uplifted his voice and his umbrella at the same time. But it was all in vain. They were not seen nor heard; and the coach whirled past long before they could reach the desired point. The only consolation they had was that of seeing that the vehicle was packed full, with four passengers outside, besides the driver.

"I told you so, Mr. Saunter," said the lady. "I knew it would be so. We never shall get home again. I give up all expectation of it now. We are here for life."

66

Never mind, my dear," said Mr. Saunter, "it is no great loss any how; you see the coach is full, and ten to one they could not have taken us in. We shall have better luck next time."

"I don't believe," said Mrs. Saunter, "they were so full that we could not have been stowed away somewhere. It is the old story. It always was so and always will be so. This all comes, Mr. Saunter, of your way of driving things off."

"I beg your pardon, my dear," replied the gentleman with great suavity of manner, "I beg your pardon; but it does seem to me that in the present case our disappointment is owing to Nathan's driving things off; for if he had not gone to drive the cow out of the field, we should not have missed the coach."

Thus pleasantly and affectionately chatting, the worthy couple returned to the farm-house.

The lady now took the matter seriously in

51

hand herself, and the next time the stage coach passed a passage was secured and the party were safely landed at their residence in town. Among the many letters and papers awaiting Mr. Saunter's return to his home, was a notice from the Fire Insurance Company, that the term of his policy had expired. This was instantly seized by Mrs. Saunter.

"Now, my dear, run right down to the Insurance Office, and have this policy renewed. I shan't sleep a wink to-night if it is not done."

"But, my dear, you do not consider how much I am fatigued. I will attend to it to-morrow. The house has stood very safely here for a whole month without insurance, and I think it may stand one day longer without much risk. At least let me have my dinner first."

This point was conceded, but the whole dinner hour was occupied with a discussion on the importance of insurance in general and insurance on dwelling-houses in particular.

Mr. Saunter went out after dinner, and did not return until a late hour in the evening. The first salutation from his lady when they met was, "Have you insured the house?" "Indeed, my dear "

"There. I knew you had not attended to it. You are always driving things off."

"The fact is, my dear, that I fell in with so many old acquaintances, and had so much to say and to hear, that I forgot all about it. But I will certainly attend to it, the first thing in the morning."

This scene was enacted over, twice every day, for a fortnight, at the end of which time the house took fire and was burnt to the ground without a dollar of insurance. A part of the furniture, however, was saved; a smaller house was hired, and the vacant lot sold.

66

Mr. Saunter had lost a few thousands by driving off" the operation of insuring his property, but he had still a handsome fortune left, which was all invested in bank stock. When this description of property, in consequence of certain events which have recently transpired in our country, began rapidly to decline in value, he prudently resolved to sell out and invest in real estate; but here his besetting sin of procrastination prevailed again. He put off action from day to day, notwithstanding the earnest remonstrances of his wife; and he is now comparatively a poor man. Such are "the consequences of driving things off."

AUNT Sarah lives all by herself. She is a tall old woman, with a mole on her nose. She says she has been good looking; but we always doubted it; and as she is now seventy, and none of us are much over twenty, we cannot be expected to remember the period to which she alludes. Aunt Sarah has had a singular life, full of changes and chances, and she loves to relate it, for she says, if we listen in a proper spirit, we cannot fail to profit by it. I will try to tell the story as nearly as I can in her own words. I am sure I have heard it often enough to know it by heart.

I was born, she says, in New York; we were a large family of brothers, and sisters; but I was by some years the oldest. Oh what merry, merry times we used to have there, in my father's house. How we ran and raced, and played, and were never checked for any thing. I remember it all, as if it were yesterday, and when I look in the glass at myself now, and see the gray hairs, and the ugly old thin face, I can hardly believe myself the same person as the thoughtless merry child I was then. But sometimes I have the same warm feelings in my heart which I used to have then, and memory carries me back to the square old parlour with its soft crimson carpet-but I am talking foolishly, and that, in an old woman, is unpardonable; I will go on with my story. I grew up, and was considered at home to be quite good looking; but there was one drawback: I had a mole on my nose! To this circumstance, I attribute many of the events that have befallen At the time I grew up, my father was very well off; and I was able to dress well, and see a great deal of company. This delighted me, for I was naturally of a gay disposition; but then I had a mole on my nose, and wherever I went, I fancied people were laughing at me, and oh! how suspicious it made me. I never saw two people talking together in an under tone, that I did not say to myself "they are talking about the mole

me.

on my nose.

If people looked at me when they spoke to me, I fancied they were inspecting it; if they turned their eyes away, they must be trying to hide a smile. In church, it seemed to me that the preacher invariably fixed his eyes upon my nose! I would have parted with every earthly advantage, if with them I could have got rid of the mole upon

my nose. No veil, however thick, would hide it! no bonnet, however large, would shade it! I cannot tell you how this foolish subject worried me, nor how many times, when mortified by some fancied neglect this defect had brought upon I returned home from some gay circle, and throwing myself on my bed, in a passion of tears, have cried myself to sleep.

me,

But my brothers' taunts were hardest to bear, Poor fellows, they are all dead now. Henry died twenty-one years ago. He was the youngest of us. I have a long lock of his light brown hair. Poor fellow, he little knew how I smarted under his jokes, and even now, I have a little picture drawn by him, a caricature, representing me, with the mole on my nose, magnified to an enormous degree; oh how angry I was at the time, and how angrily I tried to snatch it from him to destroy it, and how I treasure it now because he drew it!

My father was always sickly, and when I was about twenty he began to feel his health decline very fast. He said to me one day,

Child, you think a great deal too much of your appearance;" (he little knew that I scarcely thought of any thing else.) "I am afraid, before long you will have some real sorrow, and then perhaps you will cease to grieve about trifles which are unavoidable."

I knew that he was alluding to the mole on my nose; but I did not understand all his meaning, and my foolish heart rebelled at what I called the old man's scolding.

But his words proved true. Before six months he died, and with him we lost his salary, which had been our principal support; and for the first time, I knew what sorrow was. Yes! for months we struggled with poverty, bitter poverty. My sisters and myself were obliged to work hard to keep up a decent appearance, and for some time I entirely forgot the mole on my nose. So true it is, that serious occupation of some kind is the best cure for the foolish train of thought in which young people are so apt to indulge.

I do not mean to say that we had to work for our living; no! that sorrowful task was left to my later years. My mother had a little property which with the closest economy just sufficed to maintain us; but by degrees, times became better with us. My three sisters grew up and were

successively married, whilst my brothers by turns went out into the world to seek their fortunes, leaving only my mother and myself; and we might have been happy; but we were not. With prosperity, discontent returned, and repinings were heard from the lips of both of us; she taunted me with the mole on my nose, which she said had rendered me disagreeable and prevented my marrying as my sisters had done. This exasperated me, I knew it all to be true: but to be reproached with it, by her, and before others too. I was furious, I said I would not bear it long, and I did not bear it long, for death soon removed her and left me alone! entirely alone! My sisters were somehow or other estranged from me. They had fine houses; but I seldom entered them, for I always felt I was not welcome. Their husbands laughed at me because I had a mole on my nose; their children were afraid of me for the same reason. I cared little for the husbands' opinion, but my heart yearned towards those lovely little ones. There were twelve of them now, for each of my sisters had four; but thus repulsed, what could I do but retire to my solitary room and weep over the mole on my nose?

My mother's property was now divided among us. My share being, of course, very small, it was necessary for me to try and do something towards supporting myself. I was no longer young now, and naturally shrank from the contact with strangers, into which my new plans must lead me; but there was no alternative. I thought I would try to procure a place as governess. Accordingly I went about among those whom I had known in more prosperous days. I remember, there was a Mrs. Allen, to whom I made my first application. I went early in the morning, and was ushered into the breakfast room, where this lady sat: I made known my errand; she questioned me for nearly an hour, respecting my acquirements, and my circumstances, and then said she would give me an answer that day week. I returned home, and set to work, to mend my little stock of clothing, which indeed needed it sadly, and brushed up my old black bonnet for the occasion, and punctual to the day and hour appointed, I ascended Mrs. Allen's steps. How my heart beat as I entered the breakfast room again! But I found it empty, and as I sat there I heard voices in the next room, from which I was only separated by folding doors.

"Well my dear, what do you say, shall I take her? She will be here directly I think."

"Oh! for mercy's sake my dear, don't bring that woman into the house, or I shall be obliged to leave it. Why, with her long face and the mole on her nose, she will turn us all melancholy."

Well, I think there is something in that, my dear: and I think I would rather have one of a more prepossessing appearance, and her black is so shabby and rusty--I do hate shabby black." Tears came into my eyes, as I heard my mis

53

fortunes thus commented upon; but hearing footsteps approaching, I had just time to dry them when the lady entered, and told me as politely as she could, that "somehow or other she did not think I would suit her exactly-perhaps a younger person would do better-she did not wish to hurt my feelings, but that my-my-(here she glanced at the mole on my nose)-my appearance did not suit her exactly."

I made no reply; I got up and left the room, pulling down my veil as I entered the street.

My next attempt was at the house of a cousin of mine, an easy, good-tempered woman. I found her surrounded by seven or eight children, whom she vainly endeavoured to quiet as I entered, and after some little conversation, she said she would like to have me come the next morning, and begin my task of instructing her little dears, in reading, writing, and arithmetic: meanwhile the children crowded together and conversed together about me in loud whispers.

"Don't she look funny!"

"I wonder what she wears such a funny hat for!"

"I wonder who she is in black for!"
"Ain't she got a queer mole on her nose?"
"She shant teach me. She shant!"
"Nor me neither, I'd spit at her!"
"What an old shawl, ho! ho!"

'I say, don't you see the mole on her nose?" "She's just like the ogress in my story book!" "She aint!"

"She is!"

"Come here my dears," said the fond mother, "and speak to this lady."

None of the children stirred.

"Won't some of you come and speak to her. She is going to teach you. I'm sure you will be kind to her."

"I won't!" said one.

"She shan't teach me!" screamed another. "They are so wild," said the mother with a smile.

Amid this agreeable scene, I took my leave. It was agreed that I was to come the next morning and begin my course as governess, and so I did; but I need not relate the life I led there, how I was harassed and tormented by the neverending clamour of eight children, their ceaseless unmeaning questions, their insolence, their careless habits, and their dirty faces; how they climbed about me, trod on my corns and played tricks upon me from morning till night, never leaving me one moment to myself, till at last in despair I quitted the Babel, preferring as I thought, starvation in a quiet room, to subjection to the tyranny of spoiled children.

But I soon found that starvation would not do, either; so after much search and many disappointments, I at last obtained a situation in a school, where I was tolerably comfortable, but sorrow had spoiled my temper. I knew the pupils hated but the superior was always by, and they

me,

dared not show it. I was paid my money regu. larly, and was doing very well, when I one evening received a letter, informing me that an uncle in the Southern States had left me a considerable legacy, I being his eldest niece!

This was very cheering. I gave up my occupation at the school, and lived for some years more comfortably than I had ever before done in my life. There was no one to disturb me. I did just as I liked, and this suited my selfish feelings exactly. I endeavoured to cultivate an intimacy with some of my nieces and nephews, but the boys laughed at me, and called me old maid, and the girls never seemed to like my quiet parlour. They were always looking out of the window when they were there, and would not stay long. It was too late for them to begin to love me, but there was no help for it.

About this time, one of my brothers came home. He had been unsuccessful in business, and being in very bad health, was glad to find a quiet, peaceful asylum in my house. He remained some time, and when his health improved, the mania came over him again. He wished to re-embark on the wild and uncertain sea of speculation, and entreated me to furnish him with the means. I very foolishly did as sisters always do on such occasions, I lent him a great proportion of my legacy, for which I was to be repaid tenfold! I never saw my money again.

I found myself a third time reduced to poverty! I could not bear to think of the old means of supporting myself. I solicited an asylum in the house of one of my sisters. I should not have done so, had she not lost her husband; and I am truly thankful for the kindness with which I was treat

ed there; much greater than I deserved, for they could not have liked me, although I tried hard not to be disagreeable to them. To be sure, the boys always called me old maid; but from the girls I never received any rudeness or unkindness; and I hope they will be rewarded for it, far beyond the little I can do for them now. Such a reward must be in their own hearts, in the consciousness of having done good.

By degrees, I saved a little money, and was able after a few years to provide myself with a plain room, in a boarding-house, where I have lived ever since, where I live now, and where I often look back with regret upon my past life; for although I have had much sorrow, yet I have at times been blessed, and if it had not been for my own discontented disposition, I might have been less unhappy. I am getting old now very fast; but I do not think any of my faculties have failed me yet, except that half the time, or nearly all the time, I forget the existence of the mole on my nose; but I do not think this is loss of memory. It is because, as I approach the end of my life, I begin to see the littleness of all earthly concerns, and am especially struck with the propensity so common around me, to magnify little inconveniences into serious troubles. My nieces! you have heard my story often, and you say you like to hear it. Let me entreat you to profit by it. It is said that no one will ever profit by the experience of others. In my case this was true; but as my life was useless to myself, oh how much it would diminish my regrets, if you would take warning by your old aunt's history--although you may never, like her, have a mole on your nose.

CHAPTER I.

PAUL was a student at the University of Insdorf, without friends or money. When the last term came, Paul began to consider what was to become of him, for go he must into the cold strange world, and yet he was impatient to go, and be alone, he knew not where. He had ever taken but little part in the boisterous merriment of his companions, and there was a sadness and a loneliness in his heart that nothing could allay. The last day came, the last studies were over, and the large gates stood wide open, to send forth the gay troop.

The village was crowded with equipages, for many rich and fond parents hastened to meet a cherished heir or an only son.

Within, all was confusion, all were glad, they knew not wherefore; for never again could they hope for such careless days and merry nights, such soul-stirring laughter, such intense enjoyment as the last few years had acquainted them with-intense, though founded for the most part upon trifles. Paul alone walked mournfully through the noisy halls, almost unnoticed, for who that is rich and happy will notice a poor lonely student?

Oh! it was a beautiful sight, that merry crowd of gay youth. Some fair-haired and pale, with blue girlish eyes; some whose soft dark brown mustachios and clustering curls ornamented a crimson cheek, flushed with the pride of approaching manhood. Here stood one, small and delicately formed, with a peach-blossom complexion and dark blue eyes; at his side, a glorious darkhaired youth, leaned carelessly on the back of a large chair. A lazy group were smoking in one corner, in a variety of attitudes, while here and there walked couples, arm-in-arm, up and down, backwards and forwards. But in a window stood one-we must take breath before we describe him, -the one who stood in a window, with folded arms; but it is not of his folded arms we are going to speak; his head rested against the glass, and such a head!

"Silk to feel, and gold to see."

In fact his hair, which hung round his face, was of the purest and loveliest golden, such as is sometimes seen on the head of a fair infant-his eyes were what they always are with such gold, a light though bright blue.

But what boots it describing such forms and faces? Who can depict the expression, which is their greatest charm?

But strange enough to say, there was no joy, no pride, in the glorious beauty of these creatures; no, not even among themselves; eyes, whose glance might have destroyed hearts, read and read, as if eyes were only made for reading; forms that might have served as sculptors' models, swung to and fro in singular heedlessness. They considered themselves men. They fancied they had done with learning now. They were mistaken, they had one great lesson yet to learn, the lesson of love.

But our business is with poor Paul. He spoke a hasty farewell to a few who had occasionally shown him kindness, and soon stood outside those reverend halls, his knapsack containing his clothes and his small sum of money, on his back. He looked north, south, east and west, and giving a last look at the university, turned hastily eastward.

"I will go through my Fatherland on foot," said he, "and God only knows what will become of me."

Paul walked hastily on, past a row of small houses. At the window of the first sat a blooming yellow-haired child, with its white arms crossed on the window seat, and it smiled on the poor student as he passed, and Paul remembered that sweet child's face many and many a day.

At the window of the second house sat an old woman looking anxiously into the village street. "My son! my son!" exclaimed she with all the fervour of hope deferred, that maketh the heart sick. A second look showed her her mistake, and she sank back into her arm-chair again.

At the third window sat a girl, who, as Paul passed, said

"Oh, how like my own And she went on singing,

יי!.

"For he promised me at parting to come to me again."

At the fourth window sat a girl, not beautiful always, but only when the rich blush, crowded out of her heart by some strong emotion, fled to her usually pale cheek. There she sat with an air of thought, deep, and sometimes wearying.

Gertrude also saw Paul pass-Gertrude too looked after him, not that he reminded her by resemblance or even by contrast of her own. Gertrude had no own. It is true she had a mother, and sisters, and brothers, and a father. Still Gertrude was lonely, for no one loved her as she felt she ought to be loved.

"Gertrude is cold and unfeeling," said her mo

ther.