"If he has won her from the iniquities of the world, he can
win her for a wife, if he will."

And the echoes of such speeches come, as they needs must, to the ear of
Rose, without surprising her, so much do they seem the echo of her own
thought; and if her heart may droop a little under it, she conceals it
bravely, and abates no jot in her abounding love for Adele.

"I wish Phil were here," she says in the privacy of her home.

"So do I, darling," says the mother, and looks at her with a tender
inquisitiveness that makes the sweet girl flinch, and affect for a
moment a noisy gayety, which is not in her heart.

Rose! Rose! are you not taking wrong stitches again?

RODOLPHE TOePFFER,

THE GENEVESE CARICATURIST.

In 1842 there appeared in New York a little _brochure_ with scarcely any
letter-press, which contained many pages of the most humorous and
spirited sketches. Its title told the whole story, namely:--

_"The Adventures of Mr. Obadiah Oldbuck: wherein are duly set forth the
Crosses, Chagrins, Calamities, Checks, Chills, Changes, and
Circumgyrations by which his Courtship was attended. Showing also the
Issue of his Suit, and his Espousal to his Ladye-Love."_

Thousands laughed themselves to tears, when looking at these grotesque,
yet lifelike pictures; but scarcely one knew the name of their author,
M. Rodolphe Toepffer, of Geneva, Switzerland.

Long before Mr. Oldbuck made his appearance in America, he had been the
means of uniting in fast friendship the great poetic giant of Germany,
Goethe, and the modest Genevese caricaturist. The least of M. Toepffer's
merit, however, was his ability to handle the pencil. As a humoristic,
satiric, pathetic, and aesthetic writer, he is unique in the French
language. His wonderful genius was so pliable, that, while he excelled
in the power of catching the warmest glow of Nature in those exquisite
descriptions with which his writings are filled, and while, with
picture-words, he could reproduce all the tender beauty of a sunset in
the Alps, or the soft, singing gurgle of the mountain-brook, no one
better than he could also portray every subtile shade and feature of the
human mind. He excelled in analyzing character. His mental perception
was sympathetic and ready. His mind-eye was so keen and so piercing,
that nothing could escape its searching glance. The most insignificant
attitude of the heart was not only seen, but at once noted down and
studied by him; and