UNOPENED PARCELS. 135

“ Chiefly, because not having done it at the first
right moment,’ answered my father, “he delayed
till he couldn’t endure to revert to the subject.
Sometimes, as he told me, the whole affair seemed
such a trifle as not to be worth speaking about,
especially after every one else appeared to have
forgotten it. At other times it felt to him too
dreadful to be spoken of at all! In short, al-
though life went on as usual—and with all young
people the enjoyment of life is so strong that it
overrules reflection—my poor hero was, as it were,
haunted by his own imaginary ghost.”

“But, papa, how could he do such a thing?” I
asked. :

“It arose thus,” began my father: “he was a
nervous, imaginative child, and very restless ati
night ; a very troublesome quality in a nursery,
and one which was often getting him into scrapes.
One night, not very long after his poor father’s
death, he awoke in a confused, half-conscious con-
dition as usual, and, as usual, began to cry. As
usual, too, came the nurses’ remonstrance and
orders to be quiet and go to sleep; but these