these twenty years, and have never succeeded!"

* * * * *

We were now settled down to a quiet, domestic life. The military system
under which everything was conducted--the bugle-call, followed by the
music of a very good band, at reveille; the light, animated strains for
"sick-call," and soon after for "breakfast;" the longer ceremony of
"guard-mounting;" the "Old English Roast-Beef," to announce the
dinner-hour; the sweet, plaintive strains of "Lochaber no more,"
followed most incongruously by "The Little Cock-Sparrow," at retreat;
and, finally, the long, rolling "tattoo," late in the evening--made
pleasant divisions of our time, which, by the aid of books, music, and
drawing, in addition to household occupations, seemed to fly more
swiftly than ever before. It was on Sunday that I most missed my Eastern
home. I had planned beforehand what we should do on the first recurrence
of this sacred day, under our own roof. "We shall have at least," said I
to myself, "the Sabbath's quiet and repose, and I can, among other
things, benefit poor Louisa by giving her some additional lessons of a
serious character."

So, while she was removing the breakfast-things, I said to her,--

"Now, Louisa, get your work all finished, and everything put neatly
aside, and then come here to me again."

"Yes, ma'am."

We sat down to our books, and read and waited; we waited and read
another hour--no Louisa.