"A wise doctor," said Doctor Louis, "and such, of course, I account myself, occasionally humours his patient. But I must not give you all the credit; the theme is agreeable to me; it is, indeed, closest to my heart. I used to think, when Lauretta was a little child, and we were deriving an exquisite happiness from her pretty ways, that no happier lot could be ours than that she should always remain a child. But that would never do, would it? A world inhabited by children is not in Nature's scheme. Fit theme for a fairy story. It behoves us, however, of necessity, to be to some extent practical. I have no fear for Lauretta. Children who are not violently wrenched from their natural bent inherit and exhibit their parents' qualities. I, we will say, am negative. I have my opinions, strong ones and deeply planted, but there is no positive vice in me, so far as I am aware, and it is pleasing to me to reflect that I have transmitted to my child neither moral nor physical hurt. But Lauretta's mother possesses qualities of goodness which proclaim her to be of a rare type of womanhood. She is not only benevolent, she is wise; she is not only strong, she is tender; and she has taught me lessons, not in words, but by the example of her daily life, which have strengthened my moral nature. You see, I am in love with my wife--of which I am not at all ashamed, though I am an old married man. If Lauretta's life resemble her mother's, if she follow in her footsteps, I shall be more than content--I shall continue to be truly happy. There are so many foolish, vicious children born in the world that it is something to be proud of to add to its millions one who will instinctively tread in the straight path of duty, and who, if it is her lot to suffer, will 'suffer and be strong.' Once more, forgive me for being so garrulous about my household treasures; it is a weakness into which it is not difficult to lead me. A few words concerning yourself, in explanation of what has occurred. Learning from your own lips, on the morning we first met in the forest yonder, that you were a stranger, and perceiving that you were a gentleman, I brought you straight to my house--with no settled intention, I must frankly own, of keeping you here for any length of time. After thoroughly studying your case I saw that you would be ill for weeks, and for a great part of that time that you would be not exactly in your right senses. To tell you the truth, I was puzzled, and while I was debating what to do with you, who should introduce herself into the matter but my estimable wife. She can invariably tell, by a certain puckering of my brows, when I am in a brown study, and she inquired what troubled me. I told her, You--yes, you, my friend. 'He will not be able to get about for a month,' I said. 'Poor young gentleman!' said my wife. 'And in spite of my undoubted skill,' I continued, 'I may not be able to save him!' She clasped her hands, and the tears gathered in her eyes. She has always