subject of ‘Nature.’  Having eaten nothing for two years, except Graham bread, vegetables without salt, and fruits, fresh or dried, he considered himself to have attained an antediluvian purity of health,—­or that he would attain it, so soon as two pimples on his left temple should have healed.  These pimples he looked upon as the last feeble stand made by the pernicious juices left from the meat he had formerly eaten and the coffee he had drunk.  His theory was, that through a body so purged and purified none but true and natural impulses could find access to the soul.  Such, indeed, was the theory we all held.  A Return to Nature was the near Millennium, the dawn of which we already beheld in the sky.  To be sure, there was a difference in our individual views as to how this should be achieved, but we were all agreed as to what the result should be.

“I can laugh over those days now, Ned; but they were really happy while they lasted.  We were the salt of the earth; we were lifted above those grovelling instincts which we saw manifested in the lives of others.  Each contributed his share of gas to inflate the painted balloon to which we all clung, in the expectation that it would presently soar with us to the stars.  But it only went up over the out-houses, dodged backwards and forwards two or three times, and finally flopped down with us into a swamp.”

“And that balloon was the A. C.?” suggested Mr. Johnson.

“As President of this Chapter, I prohibit questions,” said Eunice.  “And, Enos, don’t send up your balloon until the proper time.  Don’t anticipate the programme, or the performance will be spoiled.”

“I had almost forgotten that Ned is so much in the dark,” her obedient husband answered.  “You can have but a slight notion,” he continued, turning to his friend, “of the extent to which this sentimental, or transcendental, element in the little circle at Shelldrake’s increased after you left Norridgeport.  We read the ‘Dial,’ and Emerson; we believed in Alcott as the ‘purple Plato’ of modern times; we took psychological works out of the library, and would listen for hours to Hollins while he read Schelling or Fichte, and then go home with a misty impression of having imbibed infinite wisdom.  It was, perhaps, a natural, though very eccentric rebound from the hard, practical, unimaginative New-England mind which surrounded us; yet I look back upon it with a kind of wonder.  I was then, as you know, unformed mentally, and might have been so still, but for the experiences of the A. C.”

Mr. Johnson shifted his position, a little impatiently.  Eunice looked at him with laughing eyes, and shook her finger with a mock threat.