that which you might be thus looking upon, and do battle with it to the death-even if it were-I myself!"

"Could you? Oh, Yngve, that I shall not forget!" said Hertha, "because now I understand how good you are; and I know that you perfectly understand me!”

Tears filled her eyes; but she hastily dried them as she said:

"But we have now been like a couple of children; and yet we have been so lately discussing such grave subjects. Will you not, before the sun sets, take your evening walk? Let us see the sunset from Alma's grave; and as we go along tell me something about the beautiful old man whose acquaintance I have just made, and whom I like already. I felt my heart expand whilst he was with us. That is a glorious feeling."

The two were soon on their way to the quiet grave, talking the while on subjects which made the heart expand, because they talked of the life and activity of a good man and fellowcitizen.

The churchyard lay on high ground, and, from Alma's grave, the view was beautiful across the Klar river, the meadows and farms on its banks, and the wooded region beyond.

Yngve seemed this evening more fatigued with his walk than usual. When Hertha sat down on the green-painted bench by the grave, Yngve also seated himself as usual upon a grave-mound close by, in order conveniently to stretch out his suffering knee. The sun went down in glory above the mirror-bright water; the evening breeze blew softly, but refreshingly, over the resting-place of the departed; the fragrance of the mignonette was wafted pleasantly from the grave. Yngve quietly leaned his head against the knee of his friend. Thus they sate and contemplated the beautiful spectacle before them until its splendor had paled. Neither of them spoke; but to judge from the expression of their glances, Yngve seemed to give himself up with thorough enjoyment to the fulness of the moment by the side of his noble friend, whilst her soul released itself from the life of the present

moment to take in a remote prospect, which seemed to present itself more and more clearly to her inward eye, and which caused the fire of her heart to burn higher, and her eyes to beam with a still more beautiful light.

Yngve observed it, but would not disturb her inward contemplation, her soul's inspiration, by any question of his own. He respected her silence, as in the ancient time the silence of the priestess was respected to whom the Divinity spoke.

From this time the eye of Hertha's soul really obtained a clearer vision; her heart a new hope. She often found at the parsonage with Yngve her new friend and acquaintance; and the conversation which was carried on between them, and in which the good pastor sometimes took part, according to his peculiar humor, became, through her leading questions and influence, all the more rich and illustrative.

Frequently when she walked homeward from these conversations, it seemed to her as if her body had wings, and as if she breathed with fresh lungs. Her thoughts developed and arranged themselves in a manner which gave her indescribable pleasure, and which astonished herself. Discords dissolved away before the eternal harmony that broke in upon them.

As she passed through the desolate ruins of the town she felt as if she must break forth into singing.

When she, after such conversation, re-entered her home, new life and the refreshment of new life seemed to enter with her, and there was nothing which did not arrange itself and become brighter under the influence of her enlightening, invigorating, and cheerful disposition.

But we have occupied ourselves long enough with “Hertha's part; " we must also look a little after the others who have a part in our history, as leaves and buds in the life of a plant. As on a fine day one goes out to make visits to one's friends and acquaintances, to ask how they all are, and have a few moments' friendly chat with them about health and sickness, about marriages and deaths, about this and that in the circle in which we live, so will we now go out and make among our old acquaintance in Kungsköping a few—

SHORT VISITS.

No. 1.

PROFESSOR METHODIUS sits at his writing-table surrounded by books and spots of ink, hard at work to weld together by the necessity and power of axioms the links in the chain of the world's thoughts and transactions. In this manner, and "beginning at the beginning," he will axiomatically and incontrovertibly make it apparent how and by what means the whole human race may be improved and rendered happier. "Everything," says the professor, "depends upon the perfection of the system, and on the most accurate adherence to the method, and on not passing over one single item." But the professor had not yet got his system into a proper working state, the screw did not yet rightly hold, nor the cranks move, as he was accustomed to say, but, nevertheless, he sees the moment approaching nearer and nearer, and now, as a beginning, the first sheet of "The History of the Creation of the Earth and of the Human-race, together with their Development, ancient, present, and future," is going to press. With secret pride and authorly joy the Professor writes and re-writes, endeavoring to concoct in the best and most comprehensive manner the grand title of his work

"The History of the Creation, and Development of the Earth and the Human-race, past, present, and to come." On the other side of the room sits Mimmi Svanberg, and writes

"MY DEAR GUSTAF:

"It is a fact that I am the best sister in the world, because I have just now said No to five invitations, and

neglected at least twenty-seven commissions for no other reason than to sit down, according to your gracious commands, and amuse you with the gossip of our good town, which you contemptuously and high-treasonably call, instead of Kungsköping, "Tattle-köping.' But that is too bad of

you.

“First, you wish to know 'how papa and I find ourselves.' Thanks for the inquiry. Papa is just now sending to press the first sheet of his great work, the long title of which I can never remember. He that is to say the author-is happy over this first sheet, and, as usual, good and gentle as an angel. I have a whole swarm of crotchets in my brain, and, among the rest, have to discover how I am to get a dress for Aunt Marianne, neither too coarse nor yet too fine; neither too homely nor yet too grand; neither too old nor yet too young; neither too grave nor yet too gay; neither too cool nor yet too hot; neither checked nor striped, and not too dear; and not too,-I don't know what, but becoming and just what it ought to be. That is easy and amusing, don't you think so? But adieu now to crotchets, and let me have a chat with you about all your 'inclinations and aversions' in Kungsköping. First, of the Corsair of Kungsköping, as you styled the Honorable Mrs. Tupplander, because it is probable that I shall shortly come into feud with her, however unwilling I myself may be to do so. But I cannot calmly see poor Amelia Hård trodden under-foot and ill-used for a by-gone error, which she is endeavoring to retrieve with all her power, and which she is better able to do than most in her circumstances. And if you were here I know I should have a champion in the fight, of which I will now say no more. Mrs. Tupplander has been for some time in a great state of vigilance, going in and going out of houses, large and small, and her reticule is ready to burst, so cram-full is it of all the news she gathers up, whether well-founded or otherwise, and I expect that something uncommon will proceed out of it, at all events a little piratical plunder.

"And now for your 'inclinations,' about which all sorts of

reports are abroad, and which it will require your whole strength of mind to bear properly.

"First, your great inclination,' Hertha. She seems strongly inclined to a young man, whose doctor and support she has been ever since the great fire, and it is asserted that these two will some time become one, which I heartily wish may be the case, for they are a handsome and noble couple. If old Falk will only not say No, because he is a young man without property. In the mean time Hertha is become very much better-looking and much happier than she ever was before, and-it is a good thing that you are away on your own concerns in Stockholm.

"Your 'little inclination,' Alina Dufva. Dear brother, take care of yourself; there is an eagle which is hovering over that little dove, and looks as if he wished to carry her off to his nest. And it seems as if Mrs. Uggla would soon not have more than four Miss Dufvas to sorrow for and sigh over.

"Your old inclination,' Ingeborg Uggla-I prepare you, my brother, for the fact, that she, perhaps, may not wait till you come and bow before her. Our estimable Dr. Hadermann may, perhaps, stand in your way. I fancy that he is likely to do so. The other day at a party where we were both of us tolerably dull, he seated himself just opposite to me, and began in this strain

"Is not Ingeborg Uggla very much changed of late?' "How do you mean, doctor?'

“Well, she is now so kind and active for others; does not sit always prick, pricking over her needlework, sewing at her dress or her finery, as she used to be always doing-she dresses herself simply, and is not always going out as formerly; she is not always at parties, is not party-sick, as I call it, but is beginning to be quiet, frugal, and comfortable.'

“Do you know,' said I, 'that if many girls are party-sick, it is because their homes are dull and joyless? and that I think is the case with Ingeborg. The mother is 'pleasure-sick,' and 'marriage-sick,' on her daughter's behalf, and makes her life wretched. But if Ingeborg employed herself a good deal for