losed doors and windows, was mournfully
silent. But soon the gardeners were set to work; it was understood that
a housekeeper had been engaged, and the family were to occupy it as
usual. Sophie writes to Adele, confirming it all, and adding,--"Madame
Arles had proposed to make us a visit, which papa hearing, and wishing
us to keep up our studies, has given her an invitation to pass the
summer with us. She says she will. I am so glad! We had told her very
much of you, and I know she will be delighted to have you as a scholar."

At this Adele feels a thrill of satisfaction, and looks longingly
forward to the time when she shall hear again from native lips the
language of her childhood.

"_Ma fille! ma fille!_"

The voices of her early home seem to ring again in her ear. She basks
once more in the delicious flow of the sunshine, and the perfume of the
orange-blossoms regales her.

----"_Ma fille!_"

Is it the echo of your voice, good old godmother, that comes rocking
over the great reach of sea, and so touches the heart of the exile?

LETTER TO A SILENT FRIEND.

Were you, my friend, one of those who make a merit of their silence, I
should have little occasion to write this letter. But as I know you, on
the contrary, to have lamented your colloquial deficiencies as sincerely
as any one, as I know that you have most earnestly coveted greater
fluency of speech and admired most warmly those who possessed it, I
venture to hope that I may say something to convince you that your case
is not so bad as you think. Yes, I am bold enough to believe that you
may aspire to the character which now seems to you so utterly beyond
reach,--the character of a talker! Before you smile incredulously,
listen to me, a fellow-sufferer. I also have known the misery and
weakness of an unready tongue. No poor man ever looked upon a heap of
gold coin with more longing eyes than I have looked upon those who could
so easily coin their thoughts into words. From a boy I conceived myself
doomed to taciturnity. The charge, to "talk more," was a well-meant
appeal to awaken my powers of utterance, but its only effect was to shut
my mouth closer than ever. Few persons can talk upon compulsion, and
boys least of all. As I grew old enough, however, to recognize some
responsibility for conversation, I was the more distressed that I could
not do what I knew I ought to do. I was beyond measure vexed with myself
this incapacity. It stood in the way o