as the little Blue
Veil. She was so kind and so gentle, and treated me in such a confiding,
sisterly way. There was a tenderness in the soft depths of her eyes, a
purity in the dazzling loveliness of her face, that my heart yielded to
with the blind fervor of a devotee. When shall I ever forget that
evening walk under the trees? Oh! those buttercups and daisies, and
little Quaker ladies! what recollections they bring back to me! The
pressure of that soft little hand on my arm, the timid grace of her
manner, the sound of her clear, girlish voice, with what emotions have
they stirred my soul! Heaven bless her! Thank God for that one glorious
picture! It was years ago; she is married now, and the mother of
children; yet even now I sometimes catch myself standing on the corners
and gazing wistfully down the street for the bright image that stole
into the morning of my young life like a soothing dream in a long,
troubled sleep.

Leaf the Second.

Gardening in midwinter!--what new freak has taken possession of that
eccentric man? The morning broke dank and drear, for the December air
had chilled the moisture into a fog. The wide verandas that opened on
the court-yard in rear were dripping with the rain, and the broad
flag-stones covered with a greasy slime. The diminutive grass-plot was
brown and soggy, but the withered blades rapidly disappeared under the
sturdy plunges of Marcel's spade. I had gone out on the gallery to fill
a ewer with water--in his excitement of the previous evening, Marcel had
forgotten my morning bath--and saw him distinctly through the
_jalousies_. He must have commenced at daylight; for, though it was then
early, the ground was almost entirely dug up. Near him, on the pavement,
was the basket over which he had displayed so much agitation. He
prepared six holes, each of which was carefully lined with straw, and
then deliberately commenced planting the egg-plants _whole_.

An hour or two later, he came up with the coffee. I thought he turned a
shade or two paler at seeing me up and dressed; but no vestige of
petulance remained. Having really taken no offense at the outburst, I
rallied him concerning it.

"I was wrong," said he, gravely; "but nature has left me destitute of
tact. An artist was once ordered to paint a one-eyed princess: the
artful man made the picture a profile. Devoid of his discernment, I saw
only my ruined treasures."

"And, after acting like a wild man, you sneer at my curiosi