Year: 1867

as I inherited considerable fortune
from my mother, who " as his first wife,
Irented small house in the neighbor-
hood of Berkeley Square, We were on
excellent terms, and my only unmarried
sister was a bond of union between us,
Scarcely day passed without our meet
ing, and l was always welcome. 1t hap
pened that my father was exceedingly
anxious that should meet an old friend
of his who had recently returned from


India, where he had passed many years
of his life and had amassed large for


tune. He and my father had been great
friends, and their meeting again, alter
the lapse of So long an interval, revived
all recollections in which my mothers
memory bore very prominent part
1t was on this account that my IA
ther was particularly anxious that
l should dine with him, and III
fixing the day, had consulted Inc as to


my engagement so that I might not
fail him. On the appointed day re,
ceived q note from my father to remind


me of my engagement and of the dinner


hour. The dinner hour had struck


when my servant came into my room to
say that the brougham had been wait
ing some time at the door and that L
should be late if l did net set OIL at
once. ! was scarcely more than half
dressed, and was annoyed with myself
for my want of punctuality. / hurried
as much as | could, jumped into my
brougham, and told the coachman to
drive on. 1t so happened that ut the
next door there was also dinner go
ing on, and, in my impatience to arrive
at my fathers house, pulled the check
string sharply, and getting ont,
rushed up the steps through the
open dsor into the dining-rOom, where
a large party were assembled, and took
possession of vacant chair. / was alb
sorbed in my thoughts even while |
was provoked with myself, and took
very little heed of anyb dy or anything.
The only thing that / afterwards SEEM
ed to remember, was the silence that
Immediately followed my arrival, and
which, if l considered the matter at all,
probably attributed to my fathers an
n0yance, which would only have in
creased my own embarrassment. After
a while my neighbor addressed me and
called my attention to picture
which hung over the chimney
piece opposite tn me. looked
up and saw, not the beautiful por-
trait of my mother by Sir Thomas
Lawrence, which is similarly situated IN
my fathers house, but very exquisite
painting of fruit by Sneider. 1 was too
perplexed to answer the question which
had been put to me, but was sufficiently
aroused to summon courage to look eau
tiously round the room, which in no
single feature reminded me of my
fathers. then glanced with hesita-
tion aud underlined dread round the ta-
BILE, and at once saw that | had entered
the wrong house by mistake, and that
my host was my fathers next-door
neighbor. I rose and apologized for my
intrusion, which was accounted for
by my having made my coach
man pull up too soon, by my find
ing the house-door opened and the
servants ready to receive me and usher
ing me into the dining-room, where l,
of course, expected to find my father
and his guests. All this occurred so
naturally, that no mistake suggested
itself to my mind; and it was not till my
attention was forcibly directed to che
picture that the truth began to dawn
upon me. | rnshed of to my fathers
house, where | was greeted with re-
proaches, which soon silenced by tell
ing them what had happened to me, and
how kindly our next-door neighbor had
pressed me, but in vain, to stay and
dine with him and take the vacant
place. raised good laugh against my
self. and was more inclined TO converse
with others than l might otherwise
have been had everything gone in the
ordinary way. My fathers Indian
friend looked kindly at me as he said,
"Well, Tom, had yod once seen what |
once saw happen through the forgetfnl-
ness of an absent man, you would never
rest till you had cured yourself OF the
habit" Pressed by us all, he briefly
told us that a person who had been
condemned to die, suffered that extreme
penalty through the inadvertence of a
man who forgot to send The reprlevo
in time to delay the execution. That
man, Tona," said he, 'has never lifted
up his head since, and has resigned a
post of considerable Importance and
emolument because he considered him
self disqualified for it by absence of
mind"


am now an elderly man, and happi-
ly can speak of all this as state of
mind that is past. | am not what !
ought to have been; but, having cured
myself, can afford to speak of the re-
collections of an absent man, and laugh
with you at the absurdities of which |
have been guilty.