MY FATHER'S FIRST LOVE.

"I lost my mother early; my father--a good man, but who was so indolent
that he rarely stirred from his chair, and who often passed whole days
without speaking, like an Indian dervish--left Roland and myself to
educate ourselves much according to our own tastes. Roland shot and
hunted and fished, read all the poetry and books of chivalry to be found
in my father's collection, which was rich in such matters, and made a
great many copies of the old pedigree,--the only thing in which my
father ever evinced much vital interest. Early in life I conceived a
passion for graver studios, and by good luck I found a tutor in Mr.
Tibbets, who, but for his modesty, Kitty, would have rivalled Porson.
He was a second Budaeus for industry,--and, by the way, he said exactly
the same thing that Budmus did, namely, 'That the only lost day in his
life was that in which he was married; for on that day he had only had
six hours for reading'! Under such a master I could not fail to be a
scholar. I came from the university with such distinction as led me to
look sanguinely on my career in the world.

"I returned to my father's quiet rectory to pause and consider what path
I should take to faire. The rectory was just at the foot of the hill,
on the brow of which were the ruins of the castle Roland has since
purchased. And though I did not feel for the ruins the same romantic
veneration as my dear brother (for my day-dreams were more colored by
classic than feudal recollections), I yet loved to climb the hill, book
in hand, and built my castles in the air midst the wrecks of that which
time had shattered on the earth.

"One day, entering the old weed-grown court, I saw a lady seated on my