62 The Old Stone House. 



ing Jew." A mutilated copy of " Lalla Rookh," and the 

 " Memoirs of My Youth," that book of sweet confidence, 

 by Lamartine. As I turn the pages, I find that the pas- 

 sages here and there have been marked — marked by some 

 one living in this old house — and when Lamartine describes 

 so beautifully his father reading Tasso aloud by the fire, 

 when the doors of the little house of Milly were closed and 

 the dog barked in the courtyard, then this admiring hand 

 writes on the margin, " What can surpass domestic joys ? " 



Yes, yes, kind annotator, but do not think me un- 

 friendly for speaking out your secret mind, for it is your 

 own house of Milly, with its fireplace, its thick beams 

 blackened by the smoke, and its domestic joys, of which 

 we fain would speak, though so much now is left to fancy 

 alone. 



My friend still sat upon the roof, and, climbing by his 

 side, we looked across the bright meadows out to the sea. 

 The seashore formed a glistening line, and the ships crept 

 along so slowly in the distance that they seemed to be 

 fixtures there, like some great sea creatures that were 

 content to idly sun themselves. So we sat together and 

 talked, and Nature seemed very kind to us. What can be 

 more pleasing than the full confidence in the sincerity 

 of your friend ? A man's best nature, as well as his worst, 

 is the development of mutual intercourse. 



We climbed again through the skylight, to the old 

 trunk, and so to the floor, and once more explored the 

 rooms. When we got outside we viewed the house from 

 different points, for each aspect gave a slightly different 

 impression. Houses, like individuals, seem to be stern or 



