"I was younger, when I actually went into battle, for _then_ it
was war; now, we have a peace that promises to be endless, and Bob will
have abundance of time to cultivate a beard before he smells gunpowder.
As for myself"--he added in a half-regretful manner, for old habits and
opinions would occasionally cross his mind--"as for myself, the
cultivation of _turnips_ must be my future occupation. Well, the
bit of parchment is sold, Bob has got _his_ in its place, while
the difference in price is in my pocket, and no more need be said--and
here come our dear girls, Wilhelmina, to prevent any regrets. The
father of two such daughters _ought_, at least, to be happy."

At this instant, Beulah and Maud Willoughby, (for so the adopted child
was called as well as the real), entered the room, having taken the
lodgings of their parents, in a morning walk, on which they were
regularly sent by the mistress of the boarding-school, in which they
were receiving what was _then_ thought to be a first-rate American
female education. And much reason had their fond parents to be proud of
them! Beulah, the eldest, was just eleven, while her sister was
eighteen months younger. The first had a staid, and yet a cheerful
look; but her cheeks were blooming, her eyes bright, and her smile
sweet. Maud, the adopted one, however, had already the sunny
countenance of an angel, with quite as much of the appearance of health
as her sister; her face had more finesse, her looks more intelligence,
her playfulness more feeling, her smile more tenderness, at times; at
others, more meaning. It is scarcely necessary to say that both had
that delicacy of outline which seems almost inseparable from the female
form in this country. What was, perhaps, more usual in that day among
persons of their class than it is in our own, each spoke her own
language with an even graceful utterance, and a faultless accuracy of
pronunciation, equally removed from effort and provincialisms. As the