chamber. The young ladies trifle away their time, but in a very different manner: Flora is perpetually in a changeable, and very frequently in a bad humour; the slightest circumstance stirs up a storm. Selma, on the contrary, has a golden temper, her entire being is harmony; and this is observable in her light, graceful gait, and perceptible in her cheerful singing, which announces her arrival or presence here and there in the house, while superintending the domestic affairs; now she is a sort of dancing attendant on her mother, then she shares all Flora's cares, next makes provisionary arrangements for the daily visitors of the family: the domestics cheerfully obey her commands, for she ever speaks kindly to them, and her directions bespeak goodness and discretion; even a philosopher would grow cheerful at the sight of her. In a word, she is the life and harmony of the family. The only trait in her that somewhat troubles me, is the frequent bursts of satirical humour in which she occasionally indulges,-shall I call it spitefulness? The term is a severe, but, I believe, a true one. But with lively spirits, such as Selma's and with Flora's daily intercourse, it is no easy matter herein also to observe proper time and harmony. And the disposition of my stepmother for every excitement and stimulant of life, and her affection for the young maidens does not allow her to observe how frequently their seasoning is of Cayenne, instead of innoxious salt.

Between my stepmother and myself prevails much "courtesy" but no confidence. I fancy that we are mutually a little afraid of each other. We have generally a tête-à-tête an hour every day, when we discuss the affairs of the state, and make our "reflexions

chretiennes et morales" on the course of time and events. On these occasions, and with all possible courtesy between us, I observe that we are both secretly intent on enlightening, converting, and surprising each other by our profound remarks and views. And then indeed,

it happens, that while endeavouring to put together the political machine, our mutual relation almost breaks asunder. For although we both aim at the most correct "juste millieu" of heavenly justice, my stepmother, nevertheless, strongly leans to the aristocratic side of society, I to the democratic. My stepmother, who in her former position as consort to the Governor-General, exercised not an unimportant influence on the affairs of the province, fancies she possesses all the knowledge, experience, and ability of a regent. I, on the other hand, fancy that, from my philosophical point of view, I see and comprehend every thing a little better; and all this occasionally excites a little difference between us, which does not, however, grow violent; for when my stepmother raises her voice with an exclamation: "Believe me, my friend," then I am silent, and content myself with an incredulous look. And however I may

J

oppose, I always let my stepmother have the last word or the last tone, namely, the diplomatic "Hem, hem, hem!"

In the evening the family is frequently at home (they say there is to be a change at New Year,) and Felix, Delphin, St. Orme, and Lennartson, often join the family circle. I see clearly that the Baron inquisitively directs his eyes to Flora and St. Orme. Frequently it appears to me as if his eye turned from the brilliant, effect-seeking Flora to Selma, and rests on her with a sort of tender attention; and she-why

are her eyes in his presence ever shaded by her long, dark lashes? Why do we not then hear any thing of those lively sallies, those shrewd and sarcastic remarks that are generally peculiar to her? But Flora no doubt could not brook them. I have remarked a piercing, jealous glance, which ever and anon flashed from Flora's eyes upon her. But I also have my share of this sort of look, when Lennartson devotes a considerable part of his attention to me, which, I am glad to say, is a case of no unfrequent occurrence.

The Free Lord, or Baron- -no! no description of him. Bulwer, who has cast many a profound look into the nobler mind of woman, justly observes: "What a matter of indifference it is to such an one, the beauty or ill-favoured appearance of a man." It is the expression of character in manners, gestures, and words, which either attracts or repels. Not a word, then, of the Baron's stature, figure, hair, teeth, &c. Nor should I be able to say much on the subject; but this I know that the expression of his person is such as one never can or wishes to forget. It produces a sort of exhilarating, elevating effect; and the glance of his eye, why, of that I must say one word.

There are eyes, in which we fancy, as it were, a radiated world; such must be Schelling's, and therefore I should for once like to be able to look into them-there is also a glance, which, by way of pre-eminence, I will designate the Statesman's. Some one has said: "Philosophers see more light thaħ forms;" and to this I say: "The majority of other people see more forms than light;" but the true statesman sees at once all the forms of life and beholds them in their true light too. His vision is clear, and at the same time defined

Such is Lennartson's eye, and one soon sees that it is capable of expressing both sunshine and lightning.

I am glad to have seen and made acquaintance with this man.

St. Orme forms a decided antithesis to him, although he also is a man of an extraordinary exterior, and possessed of an abundant store of knowledge, and spirit and experience of the world. But there is a something wanting in his general character-something which ennobles the whole. He has nothing whatever that can inspire confidence or esteem. Besides, he has a sort of restless activity in his arms and fingers, which reminds one of a spinning wheel. and renders him disagreeable-at least to me.

What am I to make of Flora's conduct towards these two men? It appears certain to me that she loves Lennartson; but why then coquette with St. Orme? Why accept presents from him!

A visitor who also begins frequently to make his appearance here, is "the rich bachelor," my uncle. He is tolerably agreeable and entertaining; and if I were not afraid of appearing conceited, I should be inclined to think his visits were chiefly intended—for me. He probably regards me as a "passable souper." My stepmother begins now and then to give me a significant hint about it, which I feign not to comprehend.

Among the guests frequently seen here are also the sisters Von P* *, a married and an unmarried lady, generally called "The ladies of the Counsellor of Commerce," who carry on considerable business with all the commodities of "they say," "they think," "they know," in the town. We play some roguish jokes upon them, but we are no scrupulous despisers of the gossip

we scorn.

For the two sisters know a whole host of things, and the Fräulein is a witty personage, whose large, piercing eyes look very keen and correct. She has upwards of ninety cousins, almost all of the female sex she told me yesterday.

tion to

November 14th.

Yesterday evening I made acquaintance with one of "our neighbours," as Selma calls the circle of the more intimate acquaintances of the family, in contradistincour distants." On coming down, as I usually do at eight o'clock, into my stepmother's room, Signora Luna was sitting at one end of the sofa, evidently on the wane, as Selma indeed whispered to me on introducing me to her. The fair Countess saluted me with tolerable indifference, though I like the shake of her warm, silk-soft hand.

The rest of the company consisted of the Baron Alexander; a young lieutenant, Ake Sparrsköld ; a sister of Flora's, Baroness Bella P a widow, and ten years older than Flora, whom we title the "beauty," whose features are first, and expression second-rate; a nice old dame Rittersvärd, with her daughter Hellfrid, together with St. Orme and Lennartson.

The general topic of conversation was a French novel highly popular in the present day, which St. Orme had lent Flora. St. Orme commended the spirited delineation of the characters, and the boldness and splendour of the colouring. Young Sparrsköld considered the latter meretricious, and thought the former extravagant. "Every human passion rises at once to phrensy, and loses both compass and aim; even virtue cannot appear exalted without being put on stilts and