ggravate into fury her resentments, and to sour every generous impulse
of her extraordinary nature. What a curse to have so sensitive a being
subjected to the training of so cold and malignant a one!

There is no natural affection. The heart is born a waste: its loves,
its hates are of education and association; and the responsibility for
the future of a child rests altogether with those intrusted with its
rearing and training. The susceptibilities only are born with the
heart, and these may be cultivated to good or evil, as imperceptibly as
the light permeates the atmosphere. These capacities or
susceptibilities are acute or obtuse as the cranium's form will
indicate, and require a system suited to each. Attention soon teaches
this: the one grows and expands beautifully with the slightest
attention; the other is a fat soil, and will run to weeds, without
constant, close, and deep cultivation, and its production of good fruit
is in exact proportion with its fertility and care. It gives the most
trouble but it yields the greatest product. And here in that warm,
impulsive heart is the fat soil. O! for the hand to weed away all that
is noxious now rooting there. That look, that whispered bitterness was
the fruit of wicked wrong--I know it; the very nature prompting there
would give the sweetest return to justice, kindness, and love.

CHAPTER XXII.

THE ROMANCE CONTINUED.

FATHER CONFESSOR--OPEN CONFESSION--THE UNREAD WILL--OLD TONEY'S
NARRATIVE--SQUIRREL SHOOTING--THE FAREWELL UNSAID--BROTHERS-IN-LAW--
FAREWELL INDEED.

When the morrow came, the clouds were weeping and the damp was dripping
from every leaf, and gloomy rifts of spongy vapor floated lazily upon
the breeze, promising a wet and very unpleasant day. These misty
periods rarely endure many hours in the autumn, but sometimes they
continue for days. The atmosphere seems half water, and its warm damp
compels close-housing, to avoid the clammy, sickly feeling met beyond
the portals. At such times, time hangs heavily, and every resource
sometimes fails to dispel the gloom and ennui consequent upon the
weather; conversation will pall; music cease to delight, and reading
weary. To stand and watch the rain through the window-panes, to lounge
from the drawing-room to your chamber, to drum with your fingers upon
the table--to beat your brain for a thought which you vainly seek to
weave into rhyme in praise of your inamorata--all is unavailing. The
rain is slo