partially overheard through the window our conversation on the stoop.

"No, sir," said I, somewhat stiffly, for the landlord came in while the artist was speaking, with a pitcher of punch and two glasses on a tray.

"Evenin' agin, gentlemen;" said the worthy Deacon. "I thought I'd bring the punch myself, to see whether I'd made it to suit."

"Try some of it," I suggested.

"I declare it is good," said he. "I raly wish, Squire, that I could find out for you who them gals is. It kind o' worries me, myself, that's a fact. I hate amazingly tu hev any thing happen that I can't see intu; and there's suthin so mysterous about this, that I can't see intu't a speck."

"Oh, never mind; it's of no consequence," said I, affecting indifference, the while noticing that the artist stealthily regarded me with a look, the precise expression of which I was at a loss to comprehend.

"Les see," said the Deacon, heedless of my disclaimer; "the Kurnel said, you know, that he left 'em down at the foot o' the hill, as we call it, though 'tan't no great fer a hill neither-yes-well-the first house is Captain Bill Smith's, jest at the right hand as you go down. I've been a talkin' with my wife, Miss Curtiss, about it; fer, as I said, it kep in my mind and sort o' worried me, who the Kurnel should leave here in the village, and not know suthin about 'em. Who on airth can it be?' says I to her. 'I dunno,' says Miss Curtiss, says she; but you say that the Kurnel left 'em down the hill, and I expect it must be Mary Smith'that's Captain Bill's daughter you see, Squire for she was expected hum about to-day,' so Miss Curtiss said, and mabby'd bring a cousin hum with her from the city where she'd been a visitin."

"Very likely Mrs. Curtiss was right, then," said I.

6

"Like enough," said the Deacon; "but what on airth, and that's what I said to Miss Curtiss, what on airth did the Kurnel act so pesky clus and private about it, ef 'twas Mary Smith ?- Why,' says Miss Curtiss, says she, you know, Deacon Curtiss, that the Kurnel is one of the most allurin' creturs that ever drew breath'and Miss Curtiss is right there too, for when that feller does get a kink, he's up to all sorts of hoaxes and burleskews that ever a livin' cretur was in the world. But what on airth he wanted to be so dreadful secret for, when he knows Mary Smith as well as he does his own daughter"

-and here the Deacon, whose curiosity was evidently in a state of intense excitement, paused and had recourse once more to the broad-brimmed hat.

I had, of course, become pretty well convinced in my own mind that one of these ladies, the fair one, I felt sure, was, must be. Miss Mary Smith. I called to mind her whispered conversation with the driver, the evident desire of both ladies to keep veiled-I remembered that one of the trunks was marked M. S. "Egad!" thought I, "they saw us young fellows staring at them; detected and baffled Cranston's endeavors to see the marking on their handkerchiefs. Miss Smith probably felt a little miffed at what Cranston said of the bright lookout that Guildford girls kept for beaux, and cautioned the driver against telling her name; made him roll down the curtains so as not to be recognized by the idlers on the stoop, and caused her cousin to say 'good bye' for both, so that none but a strange voice should be heard by the hostler, or whoever else might be standing near."

Then, agin," remarked the Deacon after a pause, "it's a good deal like one of Mary Smith's tricks; she allus was full of the white hoss and-" here the Deacon suddenly checked himself in full career, and nodding towards the artist, exclaimed emphatically, Why! what a dumb

fool!"

"Sir!" cried the artist, reddening, and evidently appropriating the compliment to himself.

"I be," added the Deacon, eking out his sentence. "I've a right tu say so, I suppose, and it's a fact. Why, Mr. Fitzhoward! ef 'twas Mary Smith, you must ha' known her, speakin' of her tricks put me in mind, you know—”

"Yes, yes;" cried the artist hurriedly, "but I never saw her."

"Sho! no you didn't, come to think on't; though I never did exactly understand how that was managed, only they du say-"

"Who says?" asked the artist, interrupting.

"Why, the Kurnel, and Bob Williston and them; I've heerd 'em laugh about it, and say-"

"There'll be laughing on the other side of their mouths, I guess, before the week is out," cried the artist in a spiteful tone.

"Well, well, I thinks likely," said the Deacon soothingly, and winking facetiously at me; "let them laugh that wins,' is a first-rate motto, and ef you win all you claim, you'll hev a good right to laugh like a hoss."

"Yes, sir-ee!" cried the artist emphatically, whose irritation seemed greatly mollified by the landlord's last remark.

The Deacon again winked at me, and seemed hugely tickled; but the humor was entirely lost on me.

"I'm sure, though, it must ha' been her," said the Deacon, picking the wick of the lamp with the blade of his jackknife, and then wiping it on his hair.

"Is she a blonde or a brunette?" asked the artist after a while.

"A what?" said the Deacon. "Is she fair-light?" said I, by way of explanation.

"Oh-oh yes," replied the Deacon, "I'm a little hard o' hearin-well, yes, purty fair, purty fair; more'n middlin'; and as fer heft, say a hundred and fifteen or twenty; gals aint so heavy as they look, allus."

At this moment the pretty chambermaid opened the parlor door, and called the Deacon.

The artist having grown tedious, I wished him good night, and went up to my room, and began to look over my brief in the cause I was to try on the morrow. I must own, however, that in spite of the efforts which I put forth for the purpose of fixing my attention on matters and things pertinent to the issue of Peck vs. Harris, the image of the fair Miss Mary Smith would often obtrude itself, in the most bewildering manner, between my eyes and the pages of manuscript, that, but two short weeks before, had, in the solitude of my office, at home, completely absorbed my attention for several days. Finally I gathered up my papers, put them into the drawer of my toilet-stand, and dismissed the case of Peck vs. Harris from further consideration at that time.

"I believe I'm in love," said I, as I threw myself into a rocking-chair by the window; and then, to test the matter, I tried to fancy myself departing from Guildford, after a sixty hours' sojourn, without having seen Miss Smith; and leaving Cranston behind, with the prospect dawning on his horizon, of speedily forming an acquaintanceship with that lady, and with abundant opportunities and full purpose of improving the same indefinitely during the term of court. These reflections I found to be exceedingly distasteful; whereupon I reversed the picture, sent Cranston away in the stage with the Colonel, and, being presented to Miss Smith at a party the same evening, became very intimate with her in a most indecorous and marvellously short space

of time, rode out with her the next morning, made a long call on her the evening thereafter, and, before I knew it, I was. in imagination, kneeling at her feet, and listening with throbbing heart and eager delighted ears, to a half-audible responsive admission of undying affectionwhereupon I drew this inference; that I certainly was in love; and instead of being dismayed at this discovery, I recollect snapping my fingers in a sort of ecstasy, and on looking out of the window and seeing Cranston promenading alone on the piazza below, smoking a cigar, and humming an opera tune between his teeth, and his paroxyms of expectoration, I experienced a compassion for him, until I remembered that he was not going off the next Tuesday, my dreams to the contrary notwithstanding; but that he was to stay at Guildford during the whole term, whereas, in fact, it was I that had intended to leave that morning; that I had announced this intention, and had no reasonable excuse for any delay beyond

I'm

"I didn't say any thing," said I. "Well," resumed Cranston, posted up. I'll tell you all about it in the morning-I'm walking out here and composing a sonnet to her dark eyes."

Just at this moment there came a modest knock at my chamber door, and on going to open it I found the landlord, his face beaming with oily perspiration, and a mysterious expression.

"I beg your pardon, Squire," said he, "but I see a light in your room, and I thought I'd come up a minute and tell ye."

"Come in then," said I, a little annoyed.

"It's her, there aint a doubt; Miss Curtiss says," whispered the Deacon, coming in on tiptoe.

"Is it?" said I, with an indifferent air; but it must be remembered that I had come to the same conclusion an hour before.

"Then tu think of that are Fitzhoward's ridin' down all the way from the city with her! Creation! I should a thought she'd a split."

"Why so?" I asked.

"Oh! because she's the masterest hand for fun and carryin' on that ever ye see, I expect; and she must a known him, though it seems he didn't know her, sartin. Ye see. he was here and staid six weeks or two months last summer, takin' picters, and he undertook to shin up to Miss Jemima Smith, Cap'n Bill's sister, a reglar old maid as ever ye see, and they du say, the old cretur actilly agreed to marry him; but it was all kep secret as a hen stealin' a nest, from the Cap'n, until Mary got home from the Springs and about, where she'd been all summer a travellin' round with the Eliots; but jist as soon as she got home, she larnt all about it, and the upshot was that the same night, or the next night, I dunno which, but Miss Curtiss knows and can tell ye all about it, the feller was round serenadin', or suthin', and Cap'n Bill sot his dog on him and gin him Aleck, and the feller turned round and brought a breach of promise suit agin the hull family, the Kurnel says, dog and all, and it's to be tried this tarm, and that's what he's here for now."

Of course the last cloud of doubt exhaled in the light of the deacon's explanation, and the identity of the fair lady passenger and Miss Mary Smith was clearly manifest.

"But it's the queerest thing on airth," continued the deacon, "why the Kurnel kep so clus about tellin'."

I didn't think so. On the contrary, it seemed to me the most natural thing in the world that Mary Smith should wish to let Mr. Fitzhoward remain in ignorance of the fact that he had ridden with her in the stage from the city. "That accounts for the fun the girls had to themselves," thought I, "and, by Jove! after we get better acquainted will have a laugh in which I can join."

"The dumbdest queerest thing," muttered the deacon, rubbing his head.

"So Miss Smith is rather given to high spirits, is she?" said I, affecting a yawn, by way of a hint; for I was getting a little weary of the deacon, who, stupid

fellow, had fallen into a brown study on the subject of the Colonel's most transparent motives for secrecy.

"The beatinest cretur for carryin' on that ever ye see," replied the deacon, waking up. "The Kurnel says she's a hull team and a hoss to let, besides a big dog under the waggin. I heerd him say so myself, last spring, when she driv Squire Eliot's Morgan colt through the streets, the first time he was ever in harness, to go out of the yard at any rate. She got Simon Adams, the squire's hired man, to put him intu the buggy, and what does she do, before he knows it, but takes the lines right out of his hand, and gets in and drives right up the hill, and round the square, and back agin, and the way she handled that are colt was surprisin'. The sowin' circle didn't talk of nothin' else for a fortnit, so Miss Curtiss said, and she orter tu know, for she allus goes, no matter of the house is full o' company and runnin' over; though I often tell her, that though I'm in favor of the heathen, I don't believe they'll suffer, in them warm climits, ef they go without woollen jackets and yarn stockins and mittins a day or two, while she's tendin tu company tu hum. But she says it's a dooty, and she can't in conscience neglect it, and so she goes all weathers. Yes, I tell you, squire, Mary Smith's one on 'em now. bosses Cap'n Bill, and that's a pretty considerable of a chore when he's rampin.

She

"I expect I've been a keepin' ye up, squire."

So, bidding good night again, as he softly turned the handle of the door, audibly wondering "what on airth could make the Kurnel so dumb?" the deacon departed.

"Just to think of that lovely creature breaking a colt," thought I, as I bolted the door and again sat down in the rocking chair.

"But she had fire in that dark blue eye of hers," said I, aloud, unlacing my patent leathers—“ And such eyes,” I added, untying my cravat.

A DISTINGUISHED editor, who is also

a general, in certain letters from London addressed to his readers, takes it for granted that the Americans are all on the side of England and France, in the great European controversy now raging, and urges them to give some visible expression of their sympathies. Now it is quite natural that one who eats the mutton of British ministers, and lives in the focus of a warlike excitement, should speak and urge in this wise; but we, who are away from the field of action, who are not permitted to see how lovingly the dapper guards of the saloon take the huge paws of the street-sweepers, and press them with all the fervor of a common enthusiasm, may consider the matter with more coolness, and, like the mouse in the fable, suggest modestly whether there may not be a cat in the meal tub.

It is, no doubt, of considerable importance to England that America should think well of her present movements; we believe, too, that any little contribution of ours in the way of sympathy or active assistance, will be thankfully received by Lord Clarendon, Louis Napoleon, and a good many others, yet we are not so clear in the conviction that it would be quite so well for America to take up their cudgels. We cannot discover, either in the motives of the original dispute, avowed or concealed, or in the characters of the chief parties to it, or in the objects of the powerful Alliance which has taken the quarrel upon itself, any causes that ought to move us to so much as even a sympathetic participation in the melée. Remote as we are from the theatre of trouble, disdaining as we do, the selfish, petty, and malignant policy of the foreign dynasties, holding in equal contempt and abhorrence the principles of despotism, whether the machinery be controlled by a Czar, a Sultan, a usurping Emperor, an hereditary aristocracy, or a corrupt mass of bureaucrats, we are at liberty to treat their squabbles with the utmost indifference, or to mingle in them only so far as it may advance our own solid interests, or our own distinctive principles, or give an impulse to the civilization of the world.

The ostensible grounds of dispute botween Russia and Turkey at the outset were, the demands of the former, for a more efficient protection by the latter, of a few lazy and dirty Greek priests in the

Holy Land, of a guaranty for the security of the Russo-Greek church in Turkey,and for the expulsion of political refugees harbored at Constantinople and other places. As the Porte had already guaranteed to France, in behalf of the Latin Church, the restoration of the key to the principal gate at Bethlelem; and had replaced, at the same instance, a certain silver star in the grotto of the Nativity, with a Latin inscription (which had been displaced in 1847); and had consented that the cupola over the Sacred Sepulchre should be constructed in the ancient and not in the Byzantine order of architecture; and as, moreover, the Porte had granted to Austria, consequent upon the Montenegrin insurrection of which she complained-the harbor of Kleeck and the Sutorian ports, with a control of the Bosnian Catholics, and a few commercial facilities, while at the same time the Sultan was getting more and more thick, as the schoolboys say, with the clever English ambassador,-Russia supposed it a good opportunity for asserting some of her own old claims of a similar character. She accordingly sent Prince Menchikoff to Constantinople, to make a parade of the following points: "Look you! oh Sultan Medul Abjid, illustrious Padisha of all the Mohammedan faithful,-my august master Nicholas, the transparent protector of all the true believers of Græco-Christendom, not wishing that France or England should take the wind out of his sails, demands these things: 1st, a common possession with the Latin believers of the key of the gate at Bethlehem, of the silver star on the subterranean altar, and of the rites of worship, with a supremacy over all interlopers; 2d, the immediate repair of the cupola of the sepulchre, which lets the rain in on the bare heads of the devout, and the walling up or destruction of certain harems which overlook that sepulchre, sometimes to the scandal of the monks and pilgrims; and 3dly, and finally, a Sened or convention for the guaranty of the privileges of all the Catholic Greek worshippers and their priests and their sanctuaries, both in Turkey and in the East." "But," added the good Menchikoff, "since you have been considerably remiss in this part of your duties hitherto, my august master proposes to take most of the trouble off your hands and see to it himself!" To which the Padisha, the mighty and the illustrious! through his

chief Vizier for Foreign Affairs-may he always be blessed! replied, "that there was nobody in the world for whom he, the Father of the Faithful, had an intenser admiration and respect than for his amiable friend, the most Pious Autocrat, Guardian and Protector of all the Russians, but that he could hardly consent to his demands. As for the Holy Shrines and Holy Places, he had attended to them as well as he could, considering the several classes of vagabonds, lay and clerical, with whom he had to deal, and, as to the Christians, he had always taken the best care of them, even to cutting their heads off when they were refractory, and he always meant to, being very much obliged meanwhile to his illustrious Brother, for his kind intentions and offers of assistance, but he had rather not, if it were all the same to him. Besides, the internal affairs of Turkey were in his keeping, and he would thank his illustrious Brother, with the profoundest deference, if he would just mind his own business." Menchikoff, then, in the blandest way, requested precisely the same things, only in different terms, and the Sultan made precisely the same answer, only in different terms. Menchikoff got huffy, and threatened to go home, the ambassador of Austria thought he had better not: Count Nesselrode wrote a plaintive yet furious dispatch to all the foreign governments, calling the Sultan names, and threatening to trounce him if he did not come to reason in eight days: France replied spunkily that there were two who could play at trouncing, and that the good Sultan was his friend: England remarked; "Gentleinen, do not let us tread upon each other, there is enough of Turkey for all of us, and let us have an amicable talk over the whole matter." They accordingly went to work at Vienna and talked,-and then they talked again,-talked for a whole year,and first Abdul Mejid wouldn't, and then Nicholas wouldn't,-and, finally, neither of them would,-and so they all ordered out their gunboats for a free and general fight. France and England, that had never before done any thing but void their superfluous rheum in each other's faces, shook hands like brothers, fell upon each other's necks, swore a lasting friendship-swore that they would never more allude to Waterloo or to Perfide Albion, and sent their fleets into the Baltic and Black Seas, where we will leave them for the present.

These are the ostensible grounds, we say, of the controversy, as they strike an independent observer, who simply

reads the documents and the journals; but it is to be confessed, at the same time, that, as in so many other disputes, the outward pretexts are only guys or coverings for a real and serious secret hostility. Every body who has read the history of the last fifty years, is aware, that the "Eastern Question" is not a question of recent date. It is as old as the century at least, and, in various shapes, now breaking out as a question of maritime jurisdiction in the Black Sea, now as a question concerning the integrity of the Ottoman Empire, and now again as to the respective rights of the worthless and donothing churches of Jerusalem,-involves a complicated theory of politics, and a profound antagonism of interests and principles. Standing between Europe and Asia, as an oriental European power,with a government borrowed from the Caliphs and a religion borrowed from Mohammed, Turkey forms the barrier to the eastward progress of Christian commerce and civilization. It is, therefore, the seat of battle and intrigue to all those western powers, whose simulated zeal for religion, and real zeal for "proviant," leads them to covet that mysterious and dazzling abstraction called The East, which, from the earliest time, has had a strange power in captivating the imaginations and bewildering the judgments of rulers. No Crockford's or Pat Hearn's was ever a more desperate scene of play than Constantinople has been. The ambassadors of every power gather there, as the sporting-gentlemen and legs gather in the betting-houses of London, or round a sweat-cloth at a race course. Every one is loud in professing his attachment to the Porte, and every one alternately uses the Porte as the cat's-paw of his own rapacious designs. Ready at all times, too, for any reckless foray, any scheme of warlike aggression, while they are too proud and foolish to discover their own abasement, the Osmanlis have been just the tools to be used. Now, France would inflame their resentment against the Muscovite, and then the Muscovite would stir them up against France. England would impel them one way, to check the advances of Russia, and Russia threaten them another, to embarrass the commerce of England. But the uniform and remarkable result of every movement, of every battle, whether instigated by others, or undertaken of their own savage ferocity, has been a loss of some part of their territory. Conquerors or conquered, these infatuated noodles always managed to make a cession of lands to the enemy. They fought