of sober
grey. Here, too, he loved to read, and to converse with Madame St.
Aubert; or to play with his children, resigning himself to the influence
of those sweet affections, which are ever attendant on simplicity and
nature. He has often said, while tears of pleasure trembled in his eyes,
that these were moments infinitely more delightful than any passed amid
the brilliant and tumultuous scenes that are courted by the world. His
heart was occupied; it had, what can be so rarely said, no wish for a
happiness beyond what it experienced. The consciousness of acting right
diffused a serenity over his manners, which nothing else could impart
to a man of moral perceptions like his, and which refined his sense of
every surrounding blessing.

The deepest shade of twilight did not send him from his favourite
plane-tree. He loved the soothing hour, when the last tints of light
die away; when the stars, one by one, tremble through aether, and are
reflected on the dark mirror of the waters; that hour, which, of all
others, inspires the mind with pensive tenderness, and often elevates
it to sublime contemplation. When the moon shed her soft rays among the
foliage, he still lingered, and his pastoral supper of cream and fruits
was often spread beneath it. Then, on the stillness of night, came the
song of the nightingale, breathing sweetness, and awakening melancholy.

The first interruptions to the happiness he had known since his
retirement, were occasioned by the death of his two sons. He lost them
at that age when infantine simplicity is so fascinating; and though,
in consideration of Madame St. Aubert's distress, he restrained the
expression of his own, and endeavoured to bear it, as he meant, with
philosophy, he had, in truth, no philosophy that could render him calm
to such losses. One daughter was now his only surviving child; and,
while he watched the unfolding of her infant character, with anxious
fondness, he endeavoured, with unremitting effort, to counteract
those traits in her disposition, which might hereafter lead her from
happiness. She had discovered in her early years uncommon delicacy
of mind, warm affections, and ready benevolence; but with these was
observable a degree of susceptibility too exquisite to admit of lasting
peace. As she advanced in youth, this sensibility gave a pensive tone to
her spirits, and a softness to her manner, which added grace to beauty,
and rendered her a very interesting object to p