ociety, with its endearing interchanges of affection--that vast panorama of the arts and of civilization, of the trivial and the sublime, of the beautiful and terrible, that is called the world--came vividly into their thoughts. They felt as a man would feel when dazzled all at once by a spectacle, the splendor of which the eyes and the mind can only withstand by degrees. They had spelt life in the horn-book of true and simple nature--they were now about to read it fluently in the gilded volume of a nature false and vitiated, perhaps to regret their former tranquil ignorance.
Becker himself had, for an instant, given way to the general enthusiasm, but reflection soon regained her sway; he asked himself whether he had solid reasons for wishing to return to Europe, whether it would be advisable to relinquish a certain livelihood, and abandon a spot that God appeared to bless beyond all others, to run after the doubtful advantages of civilized society.
His wife desired nothing better than to end he