a lucky fellow; I am only fearful that he may not
understand her simple nature. She is too wayward. I trust that he may
learn to see in her a real incarnation of undefiled holiness and
majesty. It is true that in her case they manifest themselves in the
form of a girl not given to blissful tears, but the very embodiment of
joy itself.

"While walking along the road, she was chewing twigs of pine, and
handed a few to me, with the words: 'Taste them; there is nothing half
so good as these.'

"When I told her that, as she could get better and more regular fare,
she had better give up this habit of chewing pine needles, especially
as it excited her nerves, she answered: 'I think you are right. They
always excite me terribly.'

"We were about to cross a meadow. I was afraid of the wet places.
'Follow me,' said she, 'and be careful to look out for the molehills,
for there is always dry soil underneath them.'"

While Richard was thus discoursing with unwonted enthusiasm, Johanna
had risen from the table and had beckoned to her daughter to follow
her.

Richard and my wife had noticed this as well as I had done. They did
not allude to it, however, but continued their conversation, agreeing
that it was best for the present to let Martella have her own way. They
thought that she would in due time undoubtedly awaken to a longing for
life's nobler forms, and the deeper meaning that lay beneath them.

My wife had no set plan on which to educate Martella.

"She is to live with us, and that of itself will educate her. She sees
every one of us attending to his appointed labor. That will, of itself,
soon teach her where her duty lies, and will help to make her orderly
and methodical. She sees that our lives are sincere, and that, too,
must do her good."

My wife was careful to caution Richard against teaching her any
generalities, as they could be of no use to her.

Martella was not gentle in her disposition. She was severe towards
herself as well as towards others. She had no compassion for the
sufferings of others. Her idea was that every one should help himself
as best he could.

She had never cared or toiled for another being. Like the stag in the
forest, she lived for herself alone. My wife nodded silent approval
when Richard observed, "In a state of nature, all is egotism;
gentleness, industry, and the disposition to assist others are results
of culture."

On the very day on which Richard had to leave us, the Major a