t as unhappy as I should have
liked to be. This is such a world of compensations, and they do so flood
in upon one in the spring-tide of life! Not that I at once met with any
new and revised edition of Helene, handsomely bound; but true friendship
came to heal the wound, and sisterly affection to take the place of
love. Bella and Frida were my friends. Bella so restful and
soul-soothing, with her far-away look; Frida so sympathetic and
affectionate. They did not say much about Helene, as it was an awkward
subject to discuss, but through all their tact and reticence I could
plainly see that they disapproved of Helene's conduct, and thought her
worldly and heartless. At that time I was much with those kind sisters,
but I soon after left the Magister's house to live under the paternal
roof, my parents having returned to Leipsic after a prolonged absence.
But there was constant and pleasant intercourse between the two
families, and my friendship with Bella and Frida flowed on peacefully
and serenely, as if nothing could ever impede its progress through life.

All the while Time, in a quiet, unobtrusive way, was doing his wondrous
work, taking the school-girls in hand and making young ladies of them.
Pinafores had long since been relegated to the dust-hole or the
paper-mills, but there were frumpy aprons to be exchanged for dainty
ribbons, dresses to be elongated, and something dangling or jingling to
be added before the young ladies could be considered presentable in a
ball-room. And Time had done just the right thing, not scamping the
work, as he will sometimes, or hurrying it and putting in touches that
would come so much better a little later. So the result was that the
newly developed young ladies remained young girls still, natural and
unsophisticated.

And the schoolboy was being transformed too. It was noticeable that the
left-hand side of his right hand middle finger-nail now rarely showed
the inroads of an inky pen; a looking-glass, too, had evidently been
consulted in some important matters, and the hands were observed
frequently to twist and twirl some imaginary growth on the upper lip.

There is more in the eagerness with which the youth welcomes the advent
of a beard than is at first apparent; he feels intuitively that the time
is approaching when that mobile feature, the mouth, may possibly want a
little disguise. It is easier to control the eyes, where there is an
emotion to conceal, than the lips with thei