nd promised to
realize all the fond expectations of her father. Her daily education and
method of life, as directed by her father, were better calculated to fit
her for the occupancy of a nun's cell than for rational society.

About five years previous to the time of our story, the solemn quiet of
Dr. Vaudelier's dwelling was disturbed by the arrival of a young French
gentleman, bearing letters of introduction to the misanthropic
physician. This gentleman was delighted with the daughter of his host,
and she experienced a before unknown pleasure in his society. The doctor
was, to some extent, obliged to abandon the "pleasures of melancholy,"
and accompany the young couple into the world.

This intimacy between the young persons rapidly ripened into love. Dr.
Vaudelier's inquiries into the character and circumstances of the young
gentleman were not satisfactory, and he refused to sanction the union.
Perhaps he was influenced more in this decision by the dread of parting
with his daughter than by any other motive. The father's refusal was
followed by the elopement of the young couple,--an act which blasted the
only remaining hope of the misanthrope. His heart was too sensitive to
endure the shock.

Reduced to the depths of despair, suicide presented itself as the only
effectual remedy for his misfortunes. But the church, to whose rites
and promises he yielded the most devoted reverence, doomed the suicide
to eternal woe!

Society, into which for a brief period he had allowed himself to be
enticed, was ten-fold more distasteful to him than before. He could not
endure even that which the practice of his profession demanded. The
great city seemed a pandemonium, and he resolved to escape from its
hated scenes.

He travelled up the river in search of seclusion, and accidentally had
noticed the island upon which he afterwards fixed his residence.

His abode upon the island was not entirely unknown to the inhabitants of
his vicinity; yet they seldom troubled him with their presence. Steamers
and flat-boats continually passed his little domain; yet the traveller
knew not that it was occupied by human beings.

Dr. Vaudelier's pursuits were of the most simple nature. He read and
wrote nearly the whole day, and in the evening,--often at the dead of
night,--he would unmoor his yacht, and stem the tide of the mighty
river. His chief happiness was in communion with nature. His solitary
habits had completely estranged him from so