f their meeting.

It was a pleasure to hear Alfred describe anything. He spoke of
Naples, of excursions to Mount Vesuvius, and showed coloured prints of
several of the eruptions. And the head tax-collector's widow had never
heard of them before, or taken time to consider the question.

"Good heavens!" she exclaimed. "So that is a burning mountain! But is
it not dangerous to the people round about?"

"Whole cities have been destroyed," he answered; "for instance,
Pompeii and Herculaneum."

"But the poor people!--And you saw all that with your own eyes?"

"No, I did not see any of the eruptions represented in these pictures,
but I will show you a picture of my own, of an eruption I saw."

He laid a pencil sketch upon the table, and mamma, who had been
absorbed in the contemplation of the highly coloured prints, threw a
glance at the pale drawing, and cried in astonishment,

"Did you see it throw up white fire?"

For a moment Alfred's respect for Kala's mamma suffered a sudden
diminution; but, dazzled by the light that illumined Kala, he soon
found it quite natural that the old lady should have no eye for
colour. After all, it was of no consequence, for Kala's mamma had the
best of all things--namely, Kala herself.

And Alfred and Kala were betrothed, which was natural enough, and the
betrothal was announced in the little newspaper of the town. Mamma
purchased thirty copies of the paper, that she might cut out the
paragraph and send it to friends and acquaintances. And the betrothed
pair were happy, and the mother-in-law elect was happy too; for it
seemed like connecting herself with Thorwaldsen.

"For you are a continuation of Thorwaldsen," she said to Alfred. And
it seemed to Alfred that mamma had in this instance said a clever
thing. Kala said nothing; but her eyes shone, her lips smiled, her
every movement was graceful: yes, she was beautiful; that cannot be
too often repeated.

Alfred undertook to take a bust of Kala and of his mother-in-law. They
sat to him accordingly, and saw how he moulded and smoothed the soft
clay with his fingers.

"I suppose it's only on our account," said mamma-in-law, "that you
undertake this commonplace work, and don't leave your servant to do
all that sticking together."

"It is highly necessary that I should mould the clay myself," he
replied.

"Ah, yes, you are so very polite," retorted mamma; and Kala silently
pressed his hand, still soiled by the clay.

And he unfol