them growing and putting forth leaves and buds, now gave Mela a frequent opportunity of being at the window. With inexpressible delight did the happy lover explain these hieroglyphics to his advantage, and the eloquent lute did not fail to waft his joyful feelings across the narrow lane to the attentive ears of the fair gardener. This had a powerful effect on her tender virgin heart. She began to feel offended, when her mother, in the long discourse with which she sometimes entertained her after dinner, took the melodious neighbour for the theme of her harangue, and called him a spendthrift, a worthless fellow, and an idler; and compared him to the prodigal son. Mela even ventured, though with great caution, to take his part on such occasions; she attributed his folly to youthful imprudence, and the seductions of others, and only accused him of not having remembered in time, the proverb, which says: Spare to day, it may rain to-morrow.
While mother Brigitta, in her own house, thus censured the young spendthrift, he felt kindly disposed towards her, and thought with great earnestness how he might, as far as his own
