I alighted; and a maid came to the door, and requested us to waita moment for her mistress. I walked across the court to a well-builthouse, and, ascending the flight of steps in front, opened the door,and saw before me the most charming spectacle I had ever witnessed.Six children, from eleven to two years old, were running about thehall, and surrounding a lady of middle height, with a lovely figure,dressed in a robe of simple white, trimmed with pink ribbons. Shewas holding a rye loaf in her hand, and was cutting slices for thelittle ones all around, in proportion to their age and appetite.She performed her task in a graceful and affectionate manner; eachclaimant awaiting his turn with outstretched hands, and boisterouslyshouting his thanks. Some of them ran away at once, to enjoy theirevening meal; whilst others, of a gentler disposition, retired tothe courtyard to see the strangers, and to survey the carriage inwhich their Charlotte was to drive away. "Pray forgive me forgiving you the trouble to come for me, and for keeping the ladieswaiting: but dressing, and arranging some household duties beforeI leave, had made me forget my children's supper; and they do notlike to take it from any one but me." I uttered some indifferentcompliment: but my whole soul was absorbed by her air, her voice,her manner; and I had scarcely recovered myself when she ran intoher room to fetch her gloves and fan. The young ones threw inquiringglances at me from a distance; whilst I approached the youngest,a most delicious little creature. He drew back; and Charlotte,entering at the very moment, said, "Louis, shake hands with yourcousin." The little fellow obeyed willingly; and I could notresist giving him a hearty kiss, notwithstanding his rather dirtyface. "Cousin," said I to Charlotte, as I handed her down, "doyou think I deserve the happiness of being related to you?" Shereplied, with a ready smile, "Oh! I have such a number of cousins,that I should be sorry if you were the most undeserving of them."In taking leave, she desired her next sister, Sophy, a girl abouteleven years old, to take great care of the children, and to saygood-bye to papa for her when he came home from his ride. Sheenjoined to the little ones to obey their sister Sophy as theywould herself, upon which some promised that they would; but alittle fair-haired girl, about six years old, looked discontented,and said, "But Sophy is not you, Charlotte; and we like you best."The two eldest boys had clambered up the carriage; and, at myrequest, she permitted them to accompany us a little way throughthe forest, upon their promising to sit very still, and hold fast.

How happy I am that I am gone! My dear friend, what a thing isthe heart of man! To leave you, from whom I have been inseparable,whom I love so dearly, and yet to feel happy! I know you willforgive me. Have not other attachments been specially appointedby fate to torment a head like mine? Poor Leonora! and yet I wasnot to blame. Was it my fault, that, whilst the peculiar charmsof her sister afforded me an agreeable entertainment, a passionfor me was engendered in her feeble heart? And yet am I whollyblameless? Did I not encourage her emotions? Did I not feelcharmed at those truly genuine expressions of nature, which, thoughbut little mirthful in reality, so often amused us? Did I not --but oh! what is man, that he dares so to accuse himself? My dearfriend I promise you I will improve; I will no longer, as has everbeen my habit, continue to ruminate on every petty vexation whichfortune may dispense; I will enjoy the present, and the past shallbe for me the past. No doubt you are right, my best of friends,there would be far less suffering amongst mankind, if men -- andGod knows why they are so fashioned -- did not employ theirimaginations so assiduously in recalling the memory of past sorrow,instead of bearing their present lot with equanimity. Be kindenough to inform my mother that I shall attend to her business tothe best of my ability, and shall give her the earliest informationabout it. I have seen my aunt, and find that she is very far frombeing the disagreeable person our friends allege her to be. Sheis a lively, cheerful woman, with the best of hearts. I explainedto her my mother's wrongs with regard to that part of her portionwhich has been withheld from her. She told me the motives andreasons of her own conduct, and the terms on which she is willingto give up the whole, and to do more than we have asked. In short,I cannot write further upon this subject at present; only assuremy mother that all will go on well. And I have again observed,my dear friend, in this trifling affair, that misunderstandingsand neglect occasion more mischief in the world than even maliceand wickedness. At all events, the two latter are of less frequentoccurrence.

Believe me, dear Wilhelm, I did not allude to you when I spoke soseverely of those who advise resignation to inevitable fate. Idid not think it possible for you to indulge such a sentiment.But in fact you are right. I only suggest one objection. In thisworld one is seldom reduced to make a selection between twoalternatives. There are as many varieties of conduct and opinionas there are turns of feature between an aquiline nose and a flatone.

"The grief of all arose, but most the bursting sigh of Armin. Heremembers the death of his son, who fell in the days of his youth.Carmor was near the hero, the chief of the echoing Galmal. Whyburst the sigh of Armin? he said. Is there a cause to mourn? Thesong comes with its music to melt and please the soul. It is likesoft mist that, rising from a lake, pours on the silent vale;the green flowers are filled with dew, but the sun returns in hisstrength, and the mist is gone. Why art thou sad, O Armin, chiefof sea-surrounded Gorma?