a little of human nature. I
know how susceptible the youthful heart is of impressions. I know how
apt these impressions are to be obliterated--a new face, a more
advantageous connection--"

"Hold, sir," said I, indignantly interrupting him, "you can not think so
meanly of me--you can not rate the son of your friend so low!"

"I am very far indeed," replied he, "from rating you low. I know you
abhor mercenary considerations; but I know also that you are a young
man, lively, ardent, impressible. I know the rapid effect that leisure,
retirement, rural scenes, daily opportunities of seeing a young woman
not ugly, of conversing with a young woman not disagreeable, may produce
on the heart, or rather on the imagination. I was aware that seeing no
other, conversing with no other, none at least that, to speak honestly,
I could consider as a fair competitor, hardly left you an unprejudiced
judge of the state of your own heart. I was not sure but that this sort
of easy commerce might produce a feeling of complacency which might be
mistaken for love. I could not consent that mere accident, mere leisure,
the mere circumstance of being thrown together, should irrevocably
entangle either of you. I was desirous of affording you time to see, to
know, and to judge. I would not take advantage of your first emotions. I
would not take advantage of your friendship for me. I would not take
advantage of your feeling ardently, till I had given you time to judge
temperately and fairly."

I assured him I was equally at a loss to express my gratitude for his
kindness, and my veneration of his wisdom; and thanked him in terms of
affectionate energy.

"My regard for you," said he, "is not of yesterday: I have taken a warm
interest in your character and happiness almost ever since you have been
in being; and in a way more intimate and personal than you can suspect."

So saying he arose, unlocked the drawer of a cabinet which stood behind
him, and took out a large packet of letters. He then resumed his seat,
and holding out the direction on the covers asked me if I was acquainted
with the hand-writing. A tear involuntarily started into my eye as I
exclaimed; "It is the well-known hand of my beloved father."

"Listen to me attentively," resumed he. "You are not ignorant that never
were two men more firmly attached by all the ties which ever cemented a
Christian friendship than your lamented father and myself. Our early
youth was spent in the sa