A DIARY.

Stockholm, Nov. 1, 18

IN THE FORENOON.

"This day-a life!"-THORILD.

"ANOTHER day, another revolution of light and shade! Enjoy thy existence!' sayest thou, holy morning-dawn, vivifying glance of love, emanation of God! Once more thou didst awake me out of my darkness, gavest me a day, a new existence, a little life! Thou lookest upon me in this life, and sayest: 'Follow the moment! It diffuses in its flight light and blossoms; it conceals itself in clouds but to shine forth again with resplendent lustre. Follow it, and do not suffer thyself to be visited by the twilight ere thou hast commenced to live!"

Such were my trains of thought, when at the dawn of morning I awoke and saw the rays of daylight penetrate into my little chamber. Involuntarily I stretched out my arms towards them; they were neither cheering nor bright; they were the rays of a dull November day, but, notwithstanding, light of that Light which illumines my day of life, and which I hail with love.

May the light of my day of life be as the morning

light-a rising one. Whether its rays shine through clouds or mists, or through a serene, transparent atmo. sphere--no matter, if the day but increases and life grows brighter.

After an absence of ten years, I am visiting the home of my youth again; as to the time of my staywhether for a longer or shorter period-circumstances must determine. Independent with regard to my property and circumstances, I can now, after many a long year of captivity, taste liberty, and at the age of thirty years follow my own inclinations.

Yesterday evening I arrived here, a few days earlier than they expected me, and could not, therefore, flatter myself that the dwelling of my stepmother was on my account so splendidly illuminated, as I found it on my arrival. Ah, no! On the contrary, I had great difficulty to find any one who would take the least notice of me and my luggage. At length I met with a maid, whose friendly countenance and manner pleased me, and who, on ascertaining who I was, paid the utmost attention to my person and luggage.

"Ah!" exclaimed she, as she conducted me up a faintly-lighted winding staircase leading to my apartment, "how provoking it is; her ladyship is giving a little ball to-day, to celebrate Fräulein Selma's birthday; and now, you see, they have carried up all the cloaks into your room; what a sight to be sure! but they did not expect your ladyship until next week, and therefore, you see, there is nothing in order here yet."

"It's of no consequence," rejoined I, as I surveyed the room with some consternation, which in the letters of my stepmother was commended to me as "excel

lent," and was now crammed full of ladies' and gentlemen's cloaks, goloshes, and clogs. The tones of a whirling Strauss-waltz resounded from beneath, and made a partly cheering and partly depressing impression upon me. I thought, "If I were to set myself down here among all these empty habiliments, listening to this music, and at the same time think, 'Here I sit like a forlorn stranger in the land, whilst the people below are dancing and amusing themselves,' I should assuredly become melancholy, and resolve upon writing an appendix to King Solomon's book of Ecclesiasticus, 'All is transitory!' But if 'I were to go down and mingle with the gay company, amuse myself with looking at them, and while they float around in the waltz and galopp, myself . .

....

my

A thought quickly came into my head. I detained Karin, (for that was the name of my obliging maid,) and requested her not to let any one know that I had arrived, but assist me in putting on my black silk dress and a few other things requisite for a quick toilet. I designed to steal into the company unannounced and unknown. Karin entered into my idea, thought it delightful, and assisted me quickly and cleverly, so that after the lapse of half an hour I could make a respectable appearance in the saloon, and hope to form an unobserved member of the "foule," which my stepmother, I was well aware from former times, was wont to assemble at her soirées. And I candidly confess that I was by no means displeased at the thought of looking about me a little before I was seen, and prepare, as it were, for a fresh acquaintance with my relatives, whom I had not seen for so many years. "When I entered the dancing saloon they were

dancing a galopp. I moved, as it were, by stealth along the wall, and was so fortunate as to find a place in a corner. The music, the bustle, and the brilliant glare of lights, turned my head almost dizzy. After recovering in some measure from this first impression, I looked curiously around for the faces of the various members of my family; above all, my eyes were directed in search of my youngest sister Selma, though I almost despaired of recognising again in the damsel of twenty the tender, delicate child that I had left ten years ago.

"But the only daughter of the house," thought I, "the heroine of the day, must still be easy to discover among the party! She must take the precedence in the dance, and be pre-eminently honoured and distinguished!"

And I sought among the floating pairs of the galopp. The dance appeared to me enchanting.

“Ah! les reines du bal!" now exclaimed an elderly gentleman, sitting quite close to me, with lively, but also somewhat decrepid appearance and sunken features. I looked up and saw a young officer of the Dragoons dancing with two young ladies who attracted my entire attention to them, so beautiful and brilliant were they. I concluded with certainty that one of them must be Selma; but which? They had a strong sisterly likeness, though on a more minute observation it was just that very resemblance, which rendered them dissimilar. For the elegant and charming gracefulness which distinguished the one, attired in white gauze and blond, was wanting in the other, who was dressed in rose-pink crape, and of a taller figure; however, she was indisputably the handsomest. Her dancing was marked by that buoyancy of spirit, which -as it is said