“Harry and Lottie were delighted with their new situations; but I did not see them as often as I wished, though I went with Lottie to church occasionally, and sat in the same pew with her, and read my prayers in her book, and then mixed drugs and built air castles the remainder of the week. But I am getting tired of talking about children, and I expect my hearers are tired of it, too, and I shall therefore say but little more about it. If I have bored you with too much talk of dogs and children, I beg pardon, and promise to make a long leap over the space of seven years. They were years of happiness to me--so were they to Lottie and Harry. Lottie is eighteen, and more beautiful than ever. The large dreamy eyes are the same, but the tall, queenly form has filled out, presenting a model that an artist would delight to paint from. The stamp of intellect was sparkling on her white brow, and she was (as I thought then, and think now) the most charming girl that my eyes had ever looked upon. Harry had made rapid progress in his legal studies, and would be ready to enter on his professional career by the time he was twenty-one; while I was an overgrown, awkward young man, rather shy, and sneaky when in the presence of strangers; though I had studied closely, and Doctor Dodson said I would some day be a great physician. It was arranged that I should attend the lectures in Philadelphia, and I thought it best to have an understanding with Lottie before I left. I had never asked her to be my wife. I became jealous and unhappy because Lottie was surrounded by devoted admirers, many of whom were men of wealth and high social standing; and I was alarmed lest I should after all lose the great prize. But let us rest a while, and I’ll tell more about it in the next chapter.” CHAPTER IX.