Every old bachelor was once a young one, and every young one was once still younger, when, although a bachelor, he was known only as a boy. It is the story of the boy, who is now an old bachelor, that I am about to narrate. As you may perchance wish to know some thing of the character and feelings of the person who addresses you, and how he came to do so, I will indulge your curiosity. We old fellows have not all those cares of family which fill the hours of others with pleas urable duty, and time often hangs heavily on our hands. Many of us try to do our duty. Heaven forbid that we should be blind to the need that this world has of earnest workers! But, after all, a man may minister to the needs of others, and yet there come vacant hours, when he must return to himself, and require ministering to his own. If he lacks not plenty of the goods of this world, he may have heart yearnings that are quite as pitiable as hunger, thirst, and want of shelter. Would that every one could be spared the sharp pang that I have sometimes experienced when fondling the joy and pride of some household, — the chubby boy who tossed his arms with glee, and twined his little hands in my shaggy beard!