ed by, and daring all that time
no temptation could prevail on him to diverge in the slightest degree
from the resolution he had formed; and though he attended the county
meetings as usual, he had not once been seen to gamble; and after a
great dinner, he was sure to be the only sober one of the party.
Meanwhile, he put his estate in order, and employed his leisure hours
in studying languages. In the course of a year, he was looked upon as
the most regular, as well as the most accomplished man in the
district. He continues to be so still. He married Lina, whom he loves
sincerely and faithfully; and seven years have not disturbed their
family peace. Happiness is easily read in a woman's countenance, and
the lapse of years has only beautified Lina's.

Sandor is also happy. He has a handsome wife with plenty of money; and
Aunt Zsuzsi visits them every year, and wears her daughter-in-law's
old-fashioned silk dresses.

Uncle Abris is happy in his own way. He has married Boriska; and is no
longer obliged to pay her wages.

Uncle Lorincz Kassay is happy too. The visits from his relations never
diminish--his house is always full; and among the many suitors for his
pretty daughter's hand, "little Peterke," now a handsome youth, is not
the _least_ in favour.

Kalman alone is unhappy. Dissatisfied with the world, misunderstood by
everybody, his hopeful genius has turned to misanthropy. Gentle
reader, if you ever read bad verses, think of him with pity!

THE BARDY FAMILY.

We are far amidst the snow-clad mountains of Transylvania.

The scenery is magnificent. In clear weather, the plains of Hungary as
far as the Rez promontory may be seen from the summits of the
mountains. Groups of hills rise one above the other, covered with
thick forest, which, at the period when our tale commences, had just
begun to assume the first light green of spring.

Toward sunset, a slight purple mist overspread the farther pinnacles,
leaving their ridges still tinged with gold. On the side of one of
these hills, the white turrets of an ancient family mansion gleamed
from amid the trees.

Its situation was peculiarly romantic. A steep rock descended on one
side, on whose pinnacle there rose a simple cross. In the depth of the
valley beneath lay a scattered village, whose evening bells
melodiously broke the stillness of Nature.

Farther off, some broken roofs arose among the trees, from whence the
sound of the mill, and the yellow-tin