sarcasm lies, like a cimeter, in its keenness;—and they enjoyed themselves too much to be witty—"la sauce vaut le poisson;" and hence it is that, even when good-natured people do say a clever thing, it rarely tells—and all to-day were in a good humour.
Perhaps that which had the most delighted the visitors was their host's daughter—for Helen was one of the very sweetest creatures that ever blushed or smiled: there was a refinement in her simplicity—an infection in her gaiety—a something touching in her affectionate manners, that drew their fascination all from the same source—they were all so perfectly natural. She appeared much younger than she was—for Helen was in reality fifteen; but both the aunt with whom she resided, and her father, were old-fashioned enough to wish her childhood to be as long as possible. The mind may be cultivated, the manners formed, and the girl have acquired the polish of the woman; but how much of buoyant spirits must have been quelled—how much of enjoyment lost in the acquisition!
Childhood is not often a happy season—it is too much forced and controlled, and nature too much exiled from the fairest spot in all her do-
