University of Virginia Library

“Events which seem to me worth recording,
crowd upon us so fast now, that it is almost impossible
to give you, according to promise, even a
profile view of our movements.

“This morning, about the same hour at which
we went to church yesterday, we strolled down
Wall-street (and we seemed the only strollers
there) to see the Shylocks in their dens, if any
such could be found. I was instantly struck with
the concentrated looks, and absorbed countenances
of all the persons we met. Most of them were
running in and out of the banks, with their little
bank books in their hands, making mental calculations
of notes to be taken up, deposites where
made, and how much. Brokers were standing
behind their counters, ready to commence their
brisk, and (in this country) almost unhazardous
game. Many of them amass immense fortunes;
it is not at all uncommon for one of these houses
to loan to a state several millions at once.

“We went upon 'change at the hour of twelve.

There, in the large room of the rotunda, or circular
part of the exchange, merchants, and brokers, and
bankers, and moneyed men meet, pretty much
after the same fashion as our jockeys and racers
upon the turf. The light falls from the dome upon
these faces, and reveals the best study for a picture
I have ever seen. The seller and the sellee, the
shaver and the shavee, or diamond cut diamond,
as Damon expresses it:—bear with me but a moment
while I go over these dull details, and in return
I will tell you something more of the lady
with the black mantle.

“The most predominant expression that I saw
upon 'change was affectation; the affectation of
business; not the silly school-boy affectation which
wears off with the improving mind, but that which
is first put on by business men, to disguise the real
operations of the mind, and which afterward
grows into a confirmed habit, and is seen deeply
set in wrinkles, long after the first exciting cause
has disappeared.

“This symptom, among the moneyed men, varies
according to character and strength of mind
in the individual. One man I saw standing with
his back against a window, his thumbs stuck into
the armholes of his waistcoat, his quill toothpick
tight between his teeth,—his features large and
fleshy, his complexion between a copper and an
apoplectic dapple of blue and red,—his teeth large,
white, and flat, his eye small and gray, and his head
grizzled; he had evidently been a free, but what

is called a temperate liver. I tried to trace back
through the wrinkles in this man's face, what the
emotions were which in his younger days he had
attempted to engrave upon it, and which long
habit had now made part of his nature; but I
should first attempt to describe the expression
itself. His upper lip was turned into a curl of
contempt; his eye was thrown a little down, and
the eyelid raised high, so as to show much of the
white of the eye, as when a person is in the attitude
of profound thought upon some far distant
subject. This man had, I thought, the best chosen
affectation; it expressed profound abstraction in
one direction, when he was no doubt really abstracted
in another.

“His right-hand neighbour had not been so fortunate
in his selection of a vizor for the moneyed masquerade.
He had chosen comedy; and attempted
to hide pounds, shillings, and pence under a comic
visage. It was not well chosen. His business-laugh
was too horrid. It displayed teeth, gums,
and throat, and was too affectedly sincere. He too
frequently passed his glances quickly round from
one face to the other, to see if they enjoyed the
sport. This species of affectation had its origin in
a settled contempt for the sense of his associates,
and an exalted conception of his own, and especially
of his powers to amuse. He frequently
drew the corners of his mouth towards his ears, by
a voluntary motion, without exercising the corresponding
risible muscles; elevating his eyebrows at

the same time in a knowing way. Do this yourself,
and you will have the expression instantly.
His only additional comic resource consisted in
sticking one thumb directly under his chin, like a
pillar. This man is celebrated on 'change for telling
what he considers a good story.

“Another description of affectation here seen,
and by far the most common, is the affectation of
decision, firmness, stability, and concentrated
purpose.

“Various methods, I saw, had been practised
through long lives to attain this safe look. Some,
to whom it was not natural to do so, pushed out
the under jaw, like a person who (to use a Southern
term) is jimber-jawed. Others carried the head on
one side, drew up the muscles at the outer angle
of one eye, and kept the nostrils distended.
Others clenched the teeth, looked fierce and steady,
and habitually patted one foot upon the floor, as if
in high-spirited impatience. Some looked pensive
and sad, and occasionally drew long sighs. Beware
of these, if you ever trade in the money-market.

“The most ludicrous of all moneyed whims is a
desire to make others suppose that you think yourself
poor. A heartless man begging for sympathy
is, of all kinds of affectation, the most contemptible.
But the most dangerous of all others, and the
most apt to deceive a candid and upright mind,
is the affectation of being unaffected. Such is the
sin of those who affect bold, independent, and reckless

looks. If good fortune had not made them
brokers, bad fortune (they seem to say) might have
made them robbers.

“There is yet another class to describe—the sincere
and the honest. These are easily descried.
Something like an electric intelligence passes from
the eye of one honest man to that of another.
These are usually modest, retiring, and humble.
I speak of real humility, which is best displayed in
a respect for the understanding of other men; a
desire to place one's companions at their ease; and
a tenderness and sympathy towards the failings
of the bankrupt, the vicious, and the unfortunate
generally.

“Not that these indications occur only on'change;
they may be seen in the pulpit, at the bar, at the
bedside, and behind the counter. As you read
my descriptions, try to produce the expression upon
your face; then call up some individual of your
acquaintance, who may have sat for such a picture—poor,
indeed, in its finish, but if it convey to
you the idea, my ambition is satisfied. This is a
severe test, but I think you may muster up dramatis
personœ for all the characters.

“As I am now upon this subject, permit me to
make one or two general remarks.

“I have learned to hold no intimacy with those
men who are harsh and uncompromising towards
unfortunates and criminals. These feelings often
arise from the identical weaknesses, or faults,
which drove their victims to ruin. You have,

doubtless, seen two slaves quarrel because one
belonged to a rich and the other to a poor
man.

“As one well-fed dog is sure to be snarlish to a
poorer brother—poor human nature—this currish
principle is but too true when applied to us.

“There is none who appears so virtuously indignant
at crime as the man who is a rogue in his
heart. A horse-stealer who has blundered into
better fortune is scandalized at his former craft;
and a sheep-stealer can weep in the very face of
the lamb which another has stolen.

“Those ladies, the purity of whose characters is
most questionable, are uniformly the first to cease
visiting an openly suspected sister.

“But I see plainly that if I go on, the subject
must become too revolting; at all events I must
give it to you in broken doses; and by the time
Arthur introduces me into the human catacombs,
where the living are soul-dead, you will be ready
to take another view of those dark and dismal
abodes, and attempt further observations of humanity
in its darker developments.

“A malignant disease, as Arthur thinks, has
broken out in the portions of the city alluded to;
if so, I will remain with him. This is the time to
see fearful sights; and we Southerns, you know,
have looked the grim monster too often in the face
in this shape to be easily frightened from a cherished
purpose.

“Damon begins to be very uneasy under these
reports of sudden deaths, and black infections
sweeping through the air.”

“I have seen her, Randolph, and seen her far
more captivating and beautiful than ever!

“Yesterday, after I had finished the former part
of this letter, I met, on my way down to dinner,
Arthur and young Hazlehurst. The latter had
come expressly to invite Lamar and myself to
spend the evening at their house. As you may
suppose, it was not refused; we pressed them to
go in with us, as they had not yet dined, to which
they finally consented.

“I find Hazlehurst an intelligent young man,
but with many erroneous opinions concerning the
south, of which he must be disabused. He imagines
us to be a generous and hospitable people, but
in a rather semi-barbarous state.

“As this very subject occupied our attention in
presence of the ladies, I prefer giving you an imperfect
sketch of the discourse. I must not omit
a table lecture of Lamar's on nicotiana, however
impatient you may be to hear more of a certain
fair one.

“The subject of tobacco was introduced simultaneously
with the segars, after most of the company
had retired. One having been offered to
young Hazlehurst, he declined it, saying that he
did not use tobacco in any shape.

“`Not use tobacco! not smoke!' said Lamar;
`why, sir, you have yet to experience one of the
most calm, delightful, and soothing pleasures of
which human nerves are sensible.'

“`I have always understood,' said the other,
`that the stimulus leaves one far more miserable
than if he had not applied it.'

“`Then you labour under some mistake,' said
Lamar; `and if you will permit, and your doctorships
will forbear laughter, I will explain to you
the effects of a fine segar upon my system, and
`suit the action to the word.'

“`When a man takes a genuine, dappled Havana
segar in his mouth, places his legs upon a
hair cushioned chair, his head thrown back on that
upon which he sits, or against the wall; his arms
folded upon his chest,—the following phenomena
occur:

“`First stage. He becomes heroic and chivalrous,
or perhaps eloquent; if the last, and thinks himself
alone, you will see him wave his hand in the most
graceful and captivating style of oratory. His
eye is the soul of imaginary eloquence, his features
are all swelled out until they seem grand—gloomy
—and profound; his nostrils pant and show their
red lining, like a fiery and blooded steed. He

rolls out thick volumes of smoke, and puffs it from
him like a forty-two-pounder. He draws down
his feet, and raises his head and looks after it, as if
victory or conviction had been hurled upon its
clouds. Perhaps some one laughs at him, as you
laugh now at me.

“`He replaces his legs, leans back his head
again; the second stage is come; he smiles, perhaps,
at the laurels just won; he closes his eyes,
delightful visions of green meadows and lawns,
fragrant flowers, meandering streams, limpid
brooks, beautiful nymphs, twilight amid tall and
venerable trees, and lengthening shadows, flit before
his imagination. His face now is towards
the heavens; his features are calm and serene;
he wafts the smoke gently upward in long continued
columns, and wreaths, and garlands; his
hands fall by his side—the diminished stump falls
from his hand.

“`And now, in the third stage, he is in a revery.
A servant touches him three times, and tells him a
gentleman wants to see him; he kicks his shins;
servant retreats. Eyes being still closed, he draws
a long sigh or two, but full, pleasant, and satisfactory.
Servant returns; shakes him by the shoulder;
he jumps up and throws an empty bottle at
his head, as I do this one, at that grinning fellow
there (making a mock effort), and then the trance
is over.

“`Now where are the bad effects, except upon
Cato's shins, if he should happen to be the man?'

“We all applauded Lamar for his treat, with
three hearty cheers, in a small way.

“I am sorry to see a little sly, stealthy, unmentionable
coldness arising between Lamar and
Arthur. I first discovered it in little acts of what
the world calls politeness, but which I call formality,
towards each other. They are unconscious
of it, as yet, for it seems to have sprung up by
irresistible mutual repulsion between them: deep
seated self appears to have warned each of a dangerous
rival in the other. These are little secret
selfishnesses of the soul, which lie deep, dark, and
still, running in an unseen current, far below the
soundings of the self-searching consciousness.
How mysterious is the mind of man! We may
draw up the flood-gates, and let loose the dammedup
waters in order to find some secret at the bottom;
but the flood rolls by, and the secret still
lies buried as profoundly as before. At some
future day, when the thunder and the storms shall
come, these secrets may, perhaps, be washed up
to the surface, like wonders of the deep, when least
expected!

“At about eight o'clock, Lamar and I sallied out
to find Mrs. Hazlehurst's house in Broadway;
amid music from clarionet, violin, and kent bugle.
These were stationed in the balconies of the different
museums. Carriages were just setting down
their company at the old Park Theatre. Little
blind and lame boys sat about the iron railing at
St. Paul's church, grinding hand-organs, and

making music little better than so many grindstones—all
for a miserable pittance which they
collect in the shape of pennies, perhaps to the
amount of a dozen a day.

“Negroes were screaming `ice-cream' at the
top of their lungs, though it is now becoming cold
in the evenings and mornings. At every corner
some old huckster sang out `Hot corn! hot corn!'
though the regular season of `roasting-ears,' has
long since passed by. Little tables of fruit, cakes,
and spruce-beer were strewed along the walks
and under the awnings, which often remain extended
during the night.

“We at length found the house, and entered
with palpitating hearts. I had a sort of presentiment
that I was to meet Miss St. Clair, from what
the lively Isabel had said.

“When we entered the saloon she was nowhere
to be seen! my disappointment was no doubt visible,
for I saw an arch smile upon Isabel's countenance,
and, I must say, a very singular one upon
that of her brother. The idea first struck me that
he is either now, or has been, a suitor of the absent
lady! Was there a lurking jealousy at the bottom
of my own heart, at the very time that I was fishing
up green monsters from Lamar's mental pandemonium?
Randolph, Oh! the human heart is
deceitful above all things; and it oftener deceives
ourselves than others. We have radiated rays of
light for our mental vision outwards which we may

extend ad infinitum, but once turn our observations
inwards, and it is like inverting the telescope.

“We were presented to the lady of the mansion
immediately upon our entrance. She is benignant
and bland, yet aristocratic withal. She discovers
a warm heart towards the South, probably from
an idea of a kindred aristocratic feeling in us.
The two are, however, very different in their developments.
It is necessary here to have many
more bulwarks between this class and those below
them than is needful with us; as there is here a
regular gradation in the divisions of society. The
end of one and the beginning of the next are so
merged, that it would be impossible to separate
them without these barriers. What are they? you
would ask. They consist in little formalities,—
rigid adherence to fashion in its higher flights,—
exhibition of European and Oriental luxuries, et
cetera, et cetera.

“We were presented to the company in general;
most of the fashionable ladies were sitting
or standing around a fine-toned upright piano-forte,
at which two of the party were executing, in a
very finished style of fashionable elegance, some
of Rossini's compositions, accompanied by a gentleman
on the flute. And in good truth, they produced
scientific and fashionable music; but, Randolph,
it was not to my taste. You know that I
have cultivated music as a science, from my earliest
youth; that I am an enthusiast here, and not
altogether a bungler in my own execution. I have

now discovered either that I lack taste, or that the
fashionable world is therein deficient. You shall
decide between us at another time.

“Lamar very soon contrived (how, heaven only
knows) to throw me completely in the shade; but
the first evidence I had of it was his sitting bolt
upright between the gay Isabel and her mother.
He had already betrayed them into laughter,—not
fashionable laughter, for I saw the old lady wiping
the tears from her eyes. It is almost impossible
for any one to adhere long to conventional forms,
when he is of the party,—so manly, generous, and
sincere is he. My chagrin at not finding myself
situated equally to my heart's content did not
escape him, and he perhaps discovered my awkwardness,
for he attempted to draw me into a discussion
concerning the provincial rivalry of the
North and South. I evaded his friendly hand, but
soon the younger lady renewed the attack.

“`Come, Mr. Chevillere, you will tell us what
peculiarities you have observed, as existing between
the northern and southern ladies as to polish,
—fashion,—education,—any thing! This gentleman
is so wonderfully free from prejudices and
rivalry, that he declares the instant he beholds a
beautiful woman, he forgets that she has a local
habitation upon earth. You, sir, I hope, are not so
catholic an admirer of beauty?'

“`I too, madam, am always disarmed of local
prejudices when I see a beautiful northern lady;
but that is not what you wish me to answer. If I

understood you right, I suppose you wish to know
whether any peculiarity in fashion, habits, or manners
strikes us at first sight disagreeably.'

“`Precisely. Your general opinion of us.'

“`I am glad to be able to say, then, that with
regard to this city I am a perfect enthusiast. Every
thing is arranged as I would have it. Nature appears
to be the criterion here in matters of taste;
utility and improvement seem to prompt the efforts
of your men of talents, and that delightful politeness
to prevail, which consists in placing all well-meaning
persons at their ease, without useless
conventional forms.'

“I hate this formal speech-making, Randolph,
across a room at people, so I thought I would be
myself at once. I therefore continued my remarks
for the remainder of the evening rather more in a
nonchalant way, and as an introduction to a more
free and easy tone to the company. I asked Lamar
to repeat his lecture of the day, on smoking.
Hazlehurst, as soon as he heard the subject mentioned,
began to describe it to a party of young
ladies who stood round the piano. Their curiosity
was excited immediately; and though Lamar
frowned at me, the ladies entreated until he was
forced to comply.

“He set the room in a perfect roar of laughter,
and then a delightful confusion prevailed. Lamar
did not repeat exactly the same things which he
had treated us with at the dinner-table, but he
preserved the stages, dwelling a much shorter

time on the heroic, and much longer on the two
latter.

“He introduced a heroine into his shades and
bowers, and painted Isabel as he saw her at the
Springs; so, at least, I suspect from a certain
mantling of the colour into her cheeks.

“`Then,' said he, speaking of the third stage,
`his hands fall by his side, his eyes are closed, he
sighs profoundly, but comfortably and somnolently;
perhaps he is married; his wife steals gently up
and kisses him. `My dear, the milliner's bill has
come.'—`O dam the miller!' In a short time she
returns—`My dear, my pin money is out: come
now, you are not asleep, I know: and that is
not all—the carriage wants painting; the house
wants repairs; the children want toys; servants
want wages.' He rolls his head over on one
shoulder, opens his eyes, and fixes them in a deliberate
stare, as I do now, upon Miss Isabel.'
This last idea became either too sentimental or too
ludicrous for Lamar; and he jumped up in an unsuppressed
fit of laughter. You know Lamar,
therefore I need not tell you that this is a very imperfect
sketch of the manner in which he acted the
ludicrous and careless, but hen-pecked, husband. I
do not wonder that he laughed, when he looked at
Isabel, for her face was indescribably arch and
sanctimonious.

“Hilarity and glee seemed now to be the order
of the evening with all except poor Arthur. I
thought that Lamar would actually sow the seeds

of a future quarrel, while discussing something relating
to the West. How introduced I do not
know, unless Lamar was talking of Damon. However,
Arthur stated one fact which surprised us all,
and of which we had been all equally ignorant.
He stated that Kentucky had one more college
than any other State in the Union; half as many
as all New-England; and more than North Carolina,
South Carolina, Georgia, and Alabama,
united.

“While these things were going on, I heard a
gentle and scarcely perceptible step behind me, on
the carpet; and seeing the other gentlemen rise, I
mechanically rose also—to be electrified by the
vision of Miss St. Clair. She was pale and trembling,
but far more beautiful than I had ever seen
her. It was not the beauty of the waxen figure,
or the picture; it was the beauty of feeling, sensibility,
and tenderness. You have seen that little
plant which shrinks at the rude touch of man, Randolph;
that should be her emblem.

“She glided into a rather darkened recess of the
room, near where I stood, and seated herself alone,
as if to be out of the reach of observation; yet by
some means I was seated by her side, almost as
dumb as a statue. I even longed for more of Lamar's
delineations, if for nothing else but to see her
smile again, and light up those features which nature
evidently made to smile. Her hair was still
parted over the forehead in the Grecian manner;
a single ringlet stole down behind her ear. Her

dress was simplicity itself, exceedingly plain and
tasteful.

“I need not tell Miss St. Clair how much gratified
I am at again meeting her in a circle composed
almost entirely of my friends and my friends'
friends; but, if I have been rightly informed, we
are more indebted to accident than to any benevolent
designs on her part for this meeting.

“`A strange accident indeed, my being here.
Not less so than your own. But you are not a believer
in accidents.'

“How beautiful a little act sometimes appears,
Randolph, when it sits upon the countenance of
one so artless by nature that you can see all the
machinery which she imagines is so completely
hidden, as a child often hides its eyes and vainly
supposes itself unseen. This ruse, intended to
draw me into some argument about accidents, and
to avoid the real case at issue, really amused me;
I was willing, however, to follow her lead for a
time. `Accidents,' said I, `seem to us, at first
sight, to be without the usual train of cause and
effect; but, if they were all placed in my hands, I
think I could govern the destinies of the world, so
long as I could control my own destiny.'

“`I do not understand you, sir,' said she, with
the simplest cunning imaginable; feigning deep interest,
though her countenance would not join in
the plot.

“`The condition,' I continued, `and the present
circumstances of every individual now in this room

might be traced back to some accident which has
happened—to the person, his father, or his grandfather;
the death of one friend, the marriage of another,
may affect the destinies of the persons themselves
and all connected with them.'

“Ah, Randolph! there was a tender chord
touched. Did you ever see a person shot through
and through? The countenance expresses a whole
age of misery in an instant. The soul is conscious
of it before the body. One will even ask whether
he is shot—while his countenance proclaims death
more forcibly than a hundred tongues could utter it.
There is a writhing, convulsive, retreating misery;
part of which I saw I had inflicted upon this gentle
being. This mystery must be solved. The system
on which she is treated by those around her is
false.

“You have, perhaps, seen a whole family after
the death of one of its members, religiously observe
profound silence on the subject. Should any one
rudely or even gently mention the deceased, all are
instantly horrified. Each fears that the feelings of
all the rest have been shocked. At this moment, a
calm and judicious friend, when the ice is once
broken, may cure all this amiable weakness by
steadily and tenderly persevering. I was determined
to try the experiment in this case. A bold
measure, when you consider the person and the
circumstances.

“`Miss St. Clair,' said I, after she had recovered

her composure; `allow me to ask whether your
family is related to that of General St. Clair?'

“`I believe not,' she composedly answered.

“`Has your father been long dead?'

“`Not a very long time: and the loss is the
greater, as I have never known the value of a
brother or a sister.'

“`You do not seem to labour under the usual
disadvantages of step-daughters.'

“`Never was step-father more devoted and
affectionate than mine, in his own peculiar way;
and with that I am quite contented.'

“Now, Randolph, you know that impertinence
had no share in dictating these questions, but could
impertinence have gone farther? what ramification
could I next attempt? Here was nearly the
whole genealogical tree, but farther down there
was no hope of touching the true branch.

“Her own gentle heart alone remained to be
suspected. How could I suspect it, Randolph?
so young, so pure, so gentle, so beautiful! Alas!
that is but a poor protection against suitors. Besides,
she is said to be rich. Must the question be
asked? I resolved upon it! Was I not justifiable
in doing so? Am I not an avowed suitor? at
least have I not shown myself ready to become so?
The opportunity was good; the company were all
engaged in little coteries around the saloon. My
previous questions seemed rather to have tranquillized
her than otherwise; it was a trying moment!

but no other step could be gained until this obstacle
was surmounted. I therefore proceeded to make
one or two anxious inquiries, critical as it regards
my happiness, but which a lover cannot confide
even to the ear of Randolph.

“My object was to know whether I had aught
to fear from rivalry. Her lips moved, but no sound
issued from them. I resumed: `Believe me, that
this pain would not have been inflicted, if my supposed
relation to yourself had not imboldened me
to ask whether any other man were so happy as
to render me miserable.'

“`I see no impropriety in answering your question,
though it can avail nothing; my affections are
now as they have always been—disengaged.'

“These words were wafted along the vestibule
of my ear, like some gentle breathings of magic;
you have heard the soft vibrations of the æolian
harp, as a gentle summer breeze bore them along
the air, redolent of the rich perfumes of summer
flowers, and attuned to the wild music of songsters
without.

“Sweeter, far sweeter, was her voice; a silvery
voice is at all times the organ of the heart, but
when it dies away in a thrilling whisper from the
profoundness of the internal struggle, the ardent
sympathy of the hearer is involuntary. Tragedians
understand this language of the heart, insomuch
that custom has now established the imitation,
in deep-toned pathos.

“She placed emphasis on the word affections;

why was this, unless her hand is engaged without
them? This idea flashed upon me with electric
force; you can well imagine how suddenly it broke
asunder the links of the delicious revery of which
I have attempted to give you a glimpse. Another
more painful question than any of the former now
became absolutely necessary; consequently I resumed:
`I think that I know Miss St. Clair sufficiently
well to presume with a good deal of certainty
that her hand is not pledged where her heart
cannot accompany it?'

“`My hand, sir, is like my affections.'

“Her head now hung down a little, and her eye
sought the carpet; my own expressive glances,
sanguine as they perhaps had occasionally been,
were themselves much softened and humbled; but
again I summoned my scattered thoughts to the
charge.

“`Will Miss St. Clair grant me an interview on
the morrow, or some other day more convenient
to herself?'

“The words had hardly escaped my mouth,
when Isabel stood before us. Lamar was soon by
her side. I also arose.

“`My dear Frances,' said she, taking my seat,
and locking her hand where I would have given
kingdoms to have had mine; `we are talking of
making up a little equestrian party to the Passaic
Falls. Will you be of the company? Pray join
us, like a dear girl; it is only fifteen miles.'

“The lady addressed shook her head gravely.

Isabel arose, and turning to me, `I leave the case
in your hands, sir, and you are a poor diplomatist
for a southern, if you do not succeed in persuading
her to go.'

“I was much alarmed to hear many ladies calling
for shawls and bonnets. I was not long, therefore,
in urging the case, for it was emphatically my
case.

“`I cannot go,' said she; `in the first place, I
have not been on horseback since my boarding-school
days; and in the next place, I could not
undergo the fatigue.'

“`But if all these objections could be obviated?'
I eagerly inquired.

“`Then I should certainly be pleased to go, and
still more pleased to gratify others by going.'

“To make the story a short one, as my letter
has already become too long, she finally consented
that I should drive her in a cabriolet, provided her
father, who was not present, thought it proper for
her to go.

“I reported progress to Isabel, who looked sly
and arch; her brother was as solemn as a tomb-stone.
I do not say this in triumph, Randolph, for
God knows I have little cause as yet. I merely
state the fact in all plainness and honesty, that you
may have the whole case before you.

“`This augurs well for you, Mr. Chevillere,'
whispered the lively girl.

“`I am not so certain of that,' said I.

“Finally, we agreed to go, `weather permitting,'

as they say at country sales, on the day after to-morrow.

“I did not urge this interview any farther, for a
reason which you will easily perceive. What has
become of you? I write two pages to your one
now. Is the North more prolific than the South
in incidents?