was too circumscribed, too oppressive, to take my leave. To-morrow, I shall be at sea; but you, Sophia, will be living in a small still house, and for my sake." "I shall be with your children, William," I responded.

"I have often," said he, "heard you express fear of difficulties, annoyances, troubles in life, suffering. Sophia, I fear what may befall you, I fear for your fortitude, your strength of mind."

"In that case you know me not, William! Remember that I am of the race and people of Wasastjerna! Besides, the sufferings I dread is that which limits the soul, not that which ennobles and expands it. You have several times spoken to me of endurance, as of nobleness, of beauty, and for some time I have felt you are right."

"You know, then, what, in becoming my wife, you will have to endure?"

"Yes, William, for I know there are many tempests and perils in the world for those whose business leads them down to the great waters; I know that every stormy night will find me sleepless and full of trouble; but every evening and morning will I lift up the hands of your children in prayer for their father, and the sighs of those innocents will drive away off the clouds from you, and still the wind and the waves. Oh, William, be at ease for me. I rejoice in that I shall love and endure. But," I observed, desiring to give our party conversation a livelier tone, you have not given me any directions as to the education of the children. I suspect I must not inculcate philosophy."

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"In God's name teach them what you will, even philosophy itself, especially if that same which has

made you mine, teach them that love is perfect wisdom. And now I must quit you, my own,-my own Sophia. Remain here, and let me look on your figure under the blue sky till the very last."

He took my handkerchief, moist with my tears, and thrust it into his bosom, saying, "It shall be my flag." He again pressed my hand, and again his glance dwelt upon my eyes, and sank into the depth of my heart. Then he departed, with long steps. Before he disappeared behind the house, he turned, again looked back, and waved his hand; so I lost sight of him, and returned slowly into he house.

Lennartson had gone out, to take leave of his friend on board the frigate. My stepmother and Selma sat by my side, but the former was evidently a little dissatisfied. I now opened my heart to both, and let them see all that had moved it for some time.

I had the trifling selfish pleasure of seeing my Selma shed tears over the idea of my leaving her, and the better pleasure of hearing my stepmother's full concurrence in the resolution I had come to, and so of seeing my plan of action not quite condemned. A little careful was she as to whether it was to be made public, and what would be thought of it; but after we had all given utterance to our "Christian and moral reflections" on the subject, we found that the matter was not so terrible, and the world still less so, if one did but meet it with ready sense and polite demeanour.

When we parted for the night my stepmother placed a handsome bracelet of her own hair on my arm, and said:

"You must not believe, my dear Sophia, that I have not thought of all this, nor seen clearly, although in

quietness, how it would all turn out, although I have made no comment. I foresaw every thing."

"No! have you indeed, mamma?" said I. "Hum, hum, hum!"

"Prince Metternich again," thought I. night, my sweet kind mamma,” said I.

"Good

Monday, May 26th, Morning.

Another day, another revolution of light and darkness. New, friendly day, I salute you in my new domicile. Gently may life pass away in it.

My mother, Selma, and Lennartson, all accompanied me here. I hope to often see them here.

I already feel myself at home and Frau Tröllman the same with me. Upper Troll and under Troll have ratified a peace on certain stipulations, which are in the hand of our master. Gaily dance the waves at sea, bearing the Viking from all he holds dear. In my bosom I carry a few words from him written on board the frigate, and borne to me, as I know not, by what air of heaven. Love is in it, and the fundamental word of existence lives in my heart.

Within the children are just awaking from the arms of sleep, and in me are awaking the cares of house and household economy.

Past now is my life of quiet reflection and daily reckoning. Away with you, garrulous but dear pen, which has filled up so many hours! And in sooth,

when one has surrendered liberty, reason, and heart,

it is high time too to close-the Diary.

London: H. G. Clarke and Co., 66, Old Bailey.