'It does,' interposed the other.

'Well; it does. To remember happiness which cannot be restored, is pain,
but of a softened kind. Our recollections are unfortunately mingled with
much that we deplore, and with many actions which we bitterly repent;
still in the most chequered life I firmly think there are so many little
rays of sunshine to look back upon, that I do not believe any mortal
(unless he had put himself without the pale of hope) would deliberately
drain a goblet of the waters of Lethe, if he had it in his power.'

'Possibly you are correct in that belief,' said the grey-haired
gentleman after a short reflection. 'I am inclined to think you are.'

'Why, then,' replied the other, 'the good in this state of existence
preponderates over the bad, let miscalled philosophers tell us what they
will. If our affections be tried, our affections are our consolation and
comfort; and memory, however sad, is the best and purest link between
this world and a better. But come! I'll tell you a story of another
kind.'

After a very brief silence, the merry-faced gentleman sent round the
punch, and glancing slyly at the fastidious lady, who seemed desperately
apprehensive that he was going to relate something improper, began


THE BARON OF GROGZWIG


'The Baron Von Koeldwethout, of Grogzwig in Germany, was as likely a
young baron as you would wish to see. I needn't say that he lived in a