stenance, by returning their treasures to its bosom in
fertilizing showers.

A BACHELOR'S CONFESSIONS.

"I'll live a private, pensive single life."

--_The Collier of Croydon_.

I was sitting in my room, a morning or two since, reading, when some
one tapped at the door, and Master Simon entered. He had an unusually
fresh appearance; he had put on a bright green riding-coat, with a
bunch of violets in the button-hole, and had the air of an old
bachelor trying to rejuvenate himself. He had not, however, his usual
briskness and vivacity; but loitered about the room with somewhat of
absence of manner, humming the old song--"Go, lovely rose, tell her
that wastes her time and me;" and then, leaning against the window,
and looking upon the landscape, he uttered a very audible sigh. As I
had not been accustomed to see Master Simon in a pensive mood, I
thought there might be some vexation preying on his mind, and I
endeavoured to introduce a cheerful strain of conversation; but he was
not in the vein to follow it up, and proposed that we should take a
walk.

It was a beautiful morning, of that soft vernal temperature, that
seems to thaw all the frost out of one's blood, and to set all nature
in a ferment. The very fishes felt its influence; the cautious trout
ventured out of his dark hole to seek his mate; the roach and the dace
rose up to the surface of the brook to bask in the sunshine, and the
amorous frog piped from among the rushes. If ever an oyster can really
fall in love, as has been said or sung, it must be on such a morning.

The weather certainly had its effect even upon Master Simon, for he
seemed obstinately bent upon the pensive mood. Instead of stepping
briskly along, smacking his dog-whip, whistling quaint ditties, or
telling sporting anecdotes, he leaned on my arm, and talked about the
approaching nuptials; from whence he made several digressions upon the
character of womankind, touched a little upon the tender passion, and
made sundry very excellent, though rather trite, observations upon
disappointments in love. It was evident that he had something on his
mind which he wished to impart, but felt awkward in approaching it. I
was curious to see to what this strain would lead; but was determined
not to assist him. Indeed, I mischievously pretended to turn the
conversation, and talked of his usual topics, dogs, horses, and
hunting; but he was very brief in his replies, and invariably got
back,