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 ing her the most delightful letters, long, graphic, gossipy, and gay, interspersed with rhymes by the one, and music by the other. Felix had of course intended to return in time for Fanny's wedding, but while in London he was thrown from a carriage and his knee so severely injured that it was impossible for him to leave in season. He was terribly disappointed, and so was Fanny. He could but submit and console himself as best he might with the friendly nonsense of Klingemann, who promptly installed himself as nurse, and the devoted attentions of the many friends he had in England.

"Live and prosper," he wrote to his sister; "get married and be happy; shape your household so that I shall find you in a beautiful home when I come (that will not be long), and remain yourselves, you two, whatever storms may rage outside. However, I know you both, and that is enough. Whether I address my sister hence-forward as Mademoiselle or Madame is of no consequence. What is there in a name Much better things I ought to have written, but it will not do. Say what you like, body and mind are too closely connected. I saw it the other day with real vexation when they bled me, and all those free and fresh ideas which I had before, trickled drop by drop into the basin, and I became weak and weary. Klingemann's epigram proves also how they rob me of the little bit of poetry left; and this letter shows it—I am sure in every line it is written that I may not bend my leg."

Klingemann, too, wrote her a congratulatory letter, half merry and half serious, wishing her joy and hoping the clergyman would keep his oration within due bounds. The wedding took place upon the third of October, and was a joyful and beautiful occasion. Fanny passed up the aisle of the church in her bridal array to the sound