hing in the air and countenance of the daughter that
induced me not to hesitate about complying. I cannot say that her beauty
was so _very_ striking, though she was decidedly pretty; but the
expression of her face, eyes, smile, and all put together, was so
singularly sweet and feminine, that I felt impelled by a sympathy I
shall not attempt to explain, to enter the house, and ascend to the door
of a parlour that I saw at once was public, though it then contained no
one but my proper hosts.

"Walk in, young man," said the father, in a benevolent tone of voice. "I
am curious to see that instrument; and my daughter here, who has a taste
for music, wishes it as much as I do myself. What do you call it?"

"Hurty-gurty," I answered.

"From what part of the world do you come, my young friend?" continued
the clergyman, raising his meek eyes to mine still more curiously.

"Vrom Charmany; vrom Preussen, vere did reign so late de good Koenig
Wilhelm."

"What does he say, Molly?"

So the pretty creature bore the name of Mary! I liked the Molly, too; it
was a good sign, as none but the truly respectable dare use such
familiar appellations in these ambitious times. Molly sounded as if
these people had the _aplomb_ of position and conscious breeding. Had
they been vulgar, it would have been Mollissa.

"It is not difficult to translate, father," answered one of the sweetest
voices that had ever poured its melody on my ear, and which was rendered
still more musical by the slight laugh that mingled with it. "He says he
is from Germany--from Prussia, where the good King William lately
reigned."

I liked the "father," too--that sounded refreshing, after passing a
night among a tribe of foul-nosed adventurers in humanity, every one of
whom had done his or her share towards caricaturing the once pretty
appellatives of "Pa" and "Ma." A young lady may still say "Papa," or
even "Mamma," though it were far better that she said "Father" and
"Mother;" but as for "Pa" and "Ma," they are now done with in
respectable life. They will not even do for the nursery.

"And this instrument is a hurdy-gurdy?" continued the clergyman. "What
have we here--the name spelt on it?"

"Dat isht de maker's name--_Hochstiel fecit_."

"Fecit!" repeated the clergyman; "is that German?"

"Nein--dat isht Latin; _facio_, _feci_, _factum_, _facere_--_feci_,
_feciste_, FECIT. It means make, I suppose you know."

The parson looked at me, and at my dress and fi