able to me who live secluded in the
country. Society is diseased, fatally diseased. Many of the new views
professed are sheer superstition, and their morality is a mere cloak
for their corruption and wickedness. All the powers of progress
so-called are actively at work to subvert all the safeguards of
society. And what your diary reports of Louise, I have found fully
confirmed. Though it cost the sacrifice of a long cherished plan, a son
of mine shall never become the husband of a progressionist woman."

"O father! how deeply do I thank you!" cried the youth, carried away by
his feelings.

"I must decline being thanked, for I have not merited it," spoke Mr.
Conrad earnestly. "A father's duty determines very clearly what my
decision upon the matter of your marriage with Louise, ought to be. But
I am under obligations to you, my son, which justice compels me to
acknowledge. Your discernment and moral sense have prevented a great
deal of discord and unhappiness in our family. Continue good and true,
my Seraphin!"

He pressed his son to his bosom and imprinted a kiss on his forehead.

"To-morrow we shall start for home by the first train. Fortunately your
prudent behavior makes it easy for us to get away, and the final
breaking off of this engagement I will myself arrange with Louise's
father."

SERAPHIN GERLACH TO THE AUTHOR.

Dear Sir: Two years ago, I took the liberty of sending you my diary,
with the request that you would be pleased to publish such portions of
its contents as might be useful, in the form of a tale illustrative of
the times. I made the request because I consider it the duty of a
writer who delineates the condition of society, to transmit to
posterity a faithful picture of the present social status, and I am
vain enough to believe that my jottings will be a modest contribution
towards such a tableau.

The meagre account given by the diary of my intercourse with Mechtild,
will probably have enabled you to perceive the germ of a pure and true
relation likely to develop itself further. I shall add but a few items
to complete the account of the diary, knowing that poets, painters, and
artists have rigorously determined bounds, and that a twilight cannot
be represented when the sun is at the zenith. I am emboldened to use
this illustration because your unbounded admiration of pure womanhood
is well known to me, and because the brightness of Mechtild's
character, were it further