Cheer up, little mother! As I've told you, it is not a good-bye for ever!" "So you say, my son.

The young ever look forward; but old people like myself look back, and it makes us reflect how few of the noble aspirations and longing anticipations of our youth are ever realised!" "Old people like yourself indeed, little mother!" said Eric indignantly, tossing up his lion-like head, and looking as if he would like to see any one else who would dare to make such an assertion, the next moment throwing his arms round her neck, and hugging her fondly.

"I won't have you calling yourself old, you dear little mother, with your nice glossy brown hair, and beautiful bright blue eyes and handsome face--a face which I fail not to see Burgher Jans gaze on with eloquent expression every Sunday when we go to the Dom Kirche.

Ah, I know--" "Fie, my son!" exclaimed Madame Dort, interrupting him by placing her hand across his mouth, a process which soon stopped his indiscreet impetuosity, a warm blush the while mantling her comely countenance; for she was yet in the bloom of middle-aged womanhood.

"Suppose, now, any one were to overhear you, audacious child!" "Ah, but I know, though," repeated the boy triumphantly, when he had again regained his freedom of speech.