"Then I bargain that I make my tale as short as I like, and that I am not compelled to lug in a moral by the hair of its head, as the Germans express it," said Cornelia. "I approve of every one following the bent of his genius, and mine is not of the didactic order." "We certainly should not expect a moral essay or an instructive treatise from our wild little girl," replied Mr. Wyndham. "I suppose there is no danger of its being immoral." "I don't know, indeed," answered she, tossing her black curls, and looking archly at her uncle, whom she dearly loved to tease. "I'll leave you to judge of that: I don't answer for the injurious effect it may have upon these unformed minds around me. I call my story The Astrologers. William Forsythe and Edward Barrington were lively young fellows of twenty, who had left their homes in the South to complete their education at one of our northern colleges. I don't think my strict uncle would call them "immoral" young men, but they certainly did not carry gray heads upon their green shoulders: they loved fun and mischief about as well as I do. They did not neglect study, and were up to the mark in their recitations; and they never perpetrated any thing really bad. They would not have intentionally hurt any one's feelings for the world; but yet, were any frolic to be carried into execution, these two were "the head and front of the offending." The grave professors, while they entertained their families at home with some of their exploits, were obliged to put on a very sober face in public, and even to hint at expulsion from the "Alma Mater," if the merry and thoughtless youngsters persevered in their course.