uarter, I saw nothing.

I had been domesticated in this paradise--a fool's perhaps, but still a
paradise--a month: and I was sitting alone in the shade, reading, behind
the house, when Josephine flew along the avenue of lemon-trees, and
flung herself into my arms, and, sobbing hysterically, exclaimed, "My
dear, dear Ralph, now you are almost wholly mine! there is only one
left."

"And that one, my Josephine?"

"Speak not of it, think not of it, sweet; it is not yours. But, swear,
swear to me again, you will never more look upon it; do, dearest, and I
will learn a whole column extra of words in two syllables."

And I repeated the often-iterated oath; and she sat down tranquilly at
my feet, like a good little girl, and began murmuring the task she was
committing to memory.

And how did the schooling get on? Oh! beautifully; we had such sweet
and so many school-rooms, and interruptions still more sweet and
numerous. Sometimes our hall of study was beneath the cool rock, down
the sides of which, green with age, the sparkling rill so delightfully
trickled; sometimes in the impervious quiet, and flower-enamelled bower,
amidst all the spicy fragrance of tropical shrubs; and sometimes, in the
solemn old wood, beneath the boughs of trees that had stood for
uncounted ages. And the interruptions! Repeatedly the book and the
slate would be cast away, and we would start up, as if actuated by a
single spirit, and chase some singularly beautiful humming-bird;
sometimes, the genius of frolic would seize us, and we would chase each
other round and round the old mahogany-trees, with no other object than
to rid ourselves of our exuberance of happiness; but the most frequent
interruptions were when she would close her book, and, bathing me in the
lustre of her melancholy eyes, bid me tell her some tale that would make
her weep; or, with a pious awe, request me to unfold some of the
mysteries of the universe around her, and commune with her of the
attributes of their great and beneficent Creator.

Was not this a state of the supremest happiness? Joy seemed to come
down to me from heaven in floods of light; the earth to offer up her
incense to me, as I trod upon her beautiful and flower-encumbered bosom;
the richly-plumaged birds to hover about me, as if sent to do me homage;
even the boughs of the majestic trees, as I passed them, seemed to wave
me a welcome. Joy was in me and around me; there was no pause in my
blissful feeli