I then related to him several beautiful traits which I knew about Ingeborg. Our good doctor listened attentively and looked quite tender-hearted, but merely said: 'How much one may be mistaken!'

"And now I fancy that these two people, who hitherto out of pure dread have not ventured to approach each other will come to-understand each other better. You understand me. Ingeborg has, I know, long cherished a sentiment for Dr. Hedermann, which she thought was unparticipated by him, and that made her timid and shy in his presence. I hope that you can bear this discovery with strength of mind. But, my poor brother, what will you say when I now proceed to tell you about your 'fat inclination.' Set a bottle of water by your side, before you read what follows.

66 As you know, I like to mix in all our six or seven social circles and coteries of the town, and therefore I was a short time ago at one of the third or fourth rank subscription-balls, which you are very well acquainted with. Alderman-cheesemonger Jönsson's wife and daughters, Adelgunda and Concordia were there,-all three as fair, fat, and good-tempered as could be wished for, in the race, who you know make much account of being in good condition. I determined, as usual, to have a little conversation with Mrs. Jönsson, who amuses me greatly, and accordingly seated myself beside her during the dancing and said

66 6

They really are very capital these balls, and the price is so reasonable.'

"I don't exactly think so,' said Mrs. Jönsson bluntly, 'every ball costs twelve skillings, and in the course of the evening there are hardly more than four dances, that is three skillings a dance. That is dear enough, I think. And how people tear about in the waltz; enough to work all the flesh off their bones! I am sure that Adelgunda will be quite thin with all that tearing about.'

"When the waltz was over, Mrs. Jönsson called Adelgunda to her and they both went into the inner room. I accompanied them, being a little curious, and saw the tender mother take a large sausage sandwich out of her bag, which Adelgunda must eat standing.

"You wish,' said I to Mrs. Jönsson, 'to counteract the effect of the violent exertion of the waltz.'

"Yes, that is just it,' said she seriously; it is not, you may believe me, so easy to get up again the flesh which people dance off their bones; and especially when they are betrothed,-girls always get thin then.'

"Betrothed!' exclaimed I. 'Is Adelgunda be

trothed?'

"Yes, believe me, that she is. Did not Mamsell know ? Yes, she is just betrothed to Lieutenant Krongranat. So now she will have a little title of her own; ay, ay, I thank you!'

"I was surprised, and offered my congratulations, and looked at Adelgunda, who stood there eating her sausage sandwich, and looked calm and fat, and fair, and actually quite splendid.

"Well, that is excellent,' said I; 'but where then is the bridegroom?'

“He is now gone to Stockholm, to buy a few things,' replied Mrs. Jönsson, with a glance full of meaning, half at me and half at Adelgunda.

"Yes, yes, I understand,' said I; 'I should not wonder if Mamsell Adelgunda grew a little thinner; it must make her a little uneasy to know that her bridegroom is such a long way off as Stockholm.'

"Oh, there's no danger,' said Adelgunda with imperturbable calmness.

"Think if he should not come back!'

"Oh, there's no danger; he'll come back again safe enough,' said Adelgunda.

"And when is the wedding to be, if I may ask?'

"At Martlemass,' replied Mrs. Jönsson; 'I think my geese will be fattened by that time. We shall have a large wedding, because all the relations must be invited, and I don't believe I shall be able to sit with my hands crossed till it's over. And no help can I have from Adelgunda, for I will not let her be fagging about and running the flesh off her bones. No, I would rather be worried to death myself; that is the lot of mothers and the way of the world.'

"You see now, my brother, 'the way of the world," as far as your inclinations in Kungsköping are concerned, and I can see from this distance what an effect it produces on you; I see how you go to the stove and light-your cigar, and sit down on the sofa to smoke it.

"For punishment thereof you shall now hear a little about our society's affairs, our family-union. It succeeds better than you, Mrs. Uggla, and Co. predicted; nay, indeed, so well that it is a pleasure to behold, and these new family-connections seem expressly calculated to make people pleasantly acquainted with one another, and to lead to alliances of friendship, and even to some of a warmer kind, as I have just related. And then the visits to the houses of the poor, and the sympathy excited for their circumstances; I tell you, brother, all this. produces more good than you can believe; nay, the simple fact of a poor mother or father being able to pour out their troubles, to speak of their prospects and wishes. for their children, it is like admitting fresh air into the breasts and the dwellings of those who sit in darkness. Industry, comfort, and hope increase under the friendly countenance of those who are better off in life. And one can sympathise and help in many ways without giving money. The Countess P. is unceasingly active and kind. It is a delight to accompany her on her visits to her district. The Count also is excellent both in word and

.

deed. Our good pastor's wife busies herself about the children and the infant-school without intermission, (she is especially the mother of the motherless,) and labours to obtain for the school a better situation than it now rejoices in. A number of poor mothers come daily to beg that their children may be there taken charge of during the day, that they may be at liberty to go out and work for them. I have been to-day with the pastor's wife to visit the school-room into which the children were received after the great fire. There was a terrific crowd, but all was neat and orderly. A couple of loquacious children related to us the fate of the school after the fire in the following manner:

"Just when the mistress had ended the morning. prayer; that was on Monday, wasn't it?-Ay, it was; for you see, Thursday was the fire, and on Friday everybody's heads were turned, and Saturday was a holiday:: so first on Monday the children came here again, then the gentleman came in-he that manages for the house.. And he said, the mistress and we all must get ready to pack off that very moment, because the building must begin in a jiffey, spite of burnt-out folks. And then there was a pretty halloo-baloo, as you may believe; and we got ready to start. But just as we were going, the lady talked to the works-director right well, and said it wasn't a bit better than if we'd been burnt out of house and home altogether. And then the director was so good as to pack us all in here altogether, and in that way we are again a school, But you see the worst of all is, that they are such noisy folks that live in the other room, they are burnt-out folks, such a lot of them! Sometimes we are almost frightened out of our little lives, they are so wicked, and make such a din; all the more since the mistress has fallen sick, with all the hurry and worry; and if it had not been for Mother Amalia, we could not have got through with our lives. But she is such a rare

you see.

one, she is! and so clever, and teaches us so capital! so -its regularly jolly, now!'

"It was during dinner-time that we had this talk with the child. But do you know who that Mother Amalia' was who went among the children and gave them their food, assembled them to prayers and reading and singing, and instructed them with a firmness and a motherly affection at the same time, which made the children obey her as nature obeys our Lord? This 'Mother Amalia,' whom the children praised so much, yes, she is no other than that same Amalia Hård whom you can remember very well in her gay days, and whose later sorrowful history you also know. The infant-school had been removed, or rather crammed into a room in the house where she lived, and she had taken the sick schoolmistress into one of her two rooms, and nursed her whilst she was unable to perform her duties in the school. Beside the cradle of her little boy now sits a little lame girl of nine years old, of cheerful disposition, with bright eyes and the most lovely voice, so that it is a pleasure to hear her sing. Amalia teaches her new songs, which she allows her to sing with the school children. Amalia always had a good heart, even in her giddy, youthful days, and now she shows it, together with abilities, and a desire to do good, which we had never before given her credit for. Love for her child seems to have ennobled her, and developed in her a maternal sentiment even for other children. If Mrs. N. should not recover, as seems probable, because she suffers from chronic. affection of the chest, Amalia would probably be engaged as mistress of the school, if there were not an if, and especially if Mrs. Tupplander were not in the way. The world is very unjust which makes such a mighty sin of one moment's false step, and pays so little regard to years of fidelity, fulfilment of duty, self-sacrificing love, industry, and to the unquestionable earnestness and