bouquet money could purchase in Bruchsal, a
gift of the landlady to me.

When dinner came—what a wonder! My
wife was amused and touched at my
exclamations. A tablecloth—what a luxury! A
fork! I had not seen a fork since six years.
I had appropriated to me a large pin,
which I wanted formerly for my cobbler-
work, and which I used instead of a fork,
and my plate was a round bit of board, which
I brought with me as a keepsake. I had
forgot how to use such things as knife and
fork at once.

What a pleasure to drink out of a glass
again, for even my bit of wine I used to drink
out of a spare bird-glass. The whole dinner
was a chain of agreeable surprises, for there
were so great many familiar things I had
neither seen nor tasted for so long a time—as
plates, decanters, butter, fruit, tea, coffee, and
fine havannahs.

I would have liked a walk in the environs
of Bruchsal, only to look at my prison; but I
did not, for it would have caused, perhaps,
some disagreeableness to the director; thus I
contented myself with walking in the garden
of the hotel.

The other day we went by the railway to
Francfort—my wife, myself, and my dear
little companions (my four canary-birds),
who wondered much at the great many
people they saw everywhere. The journey
was very fatiguant to me, and I felt
uncomfortable, for everywhere people stared at me
with amazement and pity. No wonder; for
I looked like a walking corpse, and my great
excitement and vivacity made my appearance
rather more painful. It must have been
indeed very striking; for when we arrived
in the house of my brother-in-law in Francfort,
there was a servant that had been in the
house of my father-in-law when my wife was
yet a maid, on seeing me she was so much
shocked and grieved at the alteration of my
features that she ran away and threw herself
weeping upon the ground.

The society of my old friends and all these
things I heard and saw excited me still more;
and when I met an old friend, a physician, he
cautioned me, and forbade me positively to
go to a play, for he said that a single great
excitement might produce at once what six
years of solitary confinement had not done—
to wit, madness! When I met, the other
day, a very old and dear friend, who had
shown to me much kindness since twenty
years, I could not speak, and sobbed at his
breast like a little child.

It was a curious sensation I had in the
throat, produced by much speaking, for I was
not used to it; and even in hearing I found
difficulty. But this was not the effect of any
deficiency in the ear, but only that of my not
being used to hear speaking.

Now I heard, for the first time, that my
old mother was dead since four years. My
wife would not write it to me, and sent me
always her greetings. My stepfather, who
was deceased also a few months before, and
of the death of other dear persons I heard
also only then.

PERFECTLY CONTENTED.

AFTER dinner, sitting at peace in my lodgings
in a quiet London street, I take a pen
instead of a cigar, and let my thoughts
wander at will. The brass band at the corner
does not irritate me. I accept London life
as it is, and love it the more for a tendency
to ponder over what it has been. My childhood
was indeed spent where streams ripple
and birds sing; but the life of an elderly
bachelor within the human wilderness of this
great town—I say it, though my dinner has
been very ill-cooked by the landlady—is, to
me, one of unalloyed contentment.

As for the landlady, I am quite sure, from,
the sourness of her temper, that she has had
many heavy troubles to endure. She is a
widow, and has had, therefore, to bear what
I suppose must be the most enduring of
distresses; and I know, upon the best authority,,
for she has often herself told me, that she
once was rich. What can be more natural
than that one born to a happier sphere should
not be expert in the business of the kitchen?
Why should I take offence at her misfortune?
It is a privilege allowed to me, by
punctual payments and an uncomplaining
habit, to do something towards the alleviation
of her burden in this world. I have no
sorrows of my own to bear; why should I
shake my shoulders restlessly if others lean
upon me sometimes with the weight of theirs?
For example: I know well that if my landlady
bought for herself tea out of her scanty
means, it would be four-shilling congou, and
that of this she would allow herself only the
weakest brew. How unfit would be such a
beverage for one so much in need of cheering as
she surely is, since I have known her to seek
solace even in inebriation! It contents me,
then—it pleases me—to know that she has
so much delicacy as to take unasked from
my tea-caddy what is much more proper
for her; and so, by a tacit understanding,
the begetting of which I think must be an
almost unexampled instance of a woman's
tact, anticipate my wish, and obviate the
pain it would be to us both if all my little
daily free gifts were to be sought by an act
on her side of humiliating beggary. Lately,
it occurred to me that the four-and-eight-
penny black tea which I had for some time
been using, though well enough for me, was
but poor matter to make presents of. I
therefore made up my mind to supply the
caddy with the best young hyson, and am
glad to see that it gives satisfaction; for my
tea now goes much faster than ever.

Acutely as I remember country sights and
sounds, and often as my memory reverts to