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 was November, and there had been a little sleet in the afternoon, so that the steps were slippery, and I could not avoid the reflection that it would be exceedingly unsafe for ladies to pass up and down. It being an introductory lecture, the room was crowded, as it always is, and I therefore stood near the door, not caring to disturb any one by making an attempt to look for a seat. A lady and gentleman sat near to the corner where I stood, and on his getting up, she turned her head. You may judge of my amazement and rapture when I saw it was the lady who was ever present to my mind.

She smiled, and in a moment I was at her side—she spoke, for I could not; I again heard that musical, that charming voice, and the lecturer and the crowd were forgotten. I think she said something pleasing of the book, but my heart beat so violently that I could not tell what it was. She saw my agitation, but thought it proceeded from mere bashfulness, and she therefore talked on, of the lecture and of the crowd. I said yes, no, any thing—but I soon recovered, for of one thing I was now certain—my book was not to be returned; she had spoken graciously of it, and I was the happiest of mortals. My tongue seemed loosened from its long iron bondage, and I poured out my thoughts in a strain that now astonishes me. She listened whilst I explained to her the advantages and pleasures of science, particularly that branch of it which now occupied the attention of the audience. I was the lecturer, and the voice of the one now speaking, which was falling on the ears of all in the room, was like a far distant sound—we heard it not.

The young man who came with her was standing up near us and taking notes; he had come regularly provided with a book and pencil, and seemed more intent on getting information than on the comfort of his charge. He now and then cast a