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 in a different light than she used to do when he lived opposite in the narrow lane. He now formally made proposals of marriage, and requested the hand of Meta from her parent; and these overtures were joyfully accepted on the part of the old lady. Francis told his mistress, that the pressure of mercantile affairs, as well as preparing his house to receive her as his beloved bride, had till now withheld him from expressing his sentiments in words; never, he said, had a thought of inconstancy towards her entered his mind. When the impassioned lover heard the decisive and precious monosyllable, that foretold his future happiness, from the beautiful lips of Meta herself, he could not resist intercepting it with a tender salute. Most delightful was the interview between this happy pair, and when the hour arrived which constrained our hero to take leave, he was as much grieved as when he first left his native city, and set out to Antwerp, on the crusade against his father’s debtors.

On departing from his mistress, Francis proceeded instantly to the Weser Bridge, to meet poor Wooden Block. The old warrior hailed with delight his generous young friend. “Come away with me, my good fellow,” said Francis; “you have a long walk