"A splendid joke, I think," said the cousin.

"Capital!" added Cranston.

A very stupid one," remarked Miss Smith, with an air of quiet disdain. "I believe I ought to say," she added in a moment after, with a flushed face and glancing half angrily at her cousin, "that I was no party to it."

"I beg your pardon, my dear," retorted her cousin, with an indifferent air, "but you were one of the-victims."

Frank. I had forgotten to say, had, after inquiring for his mother, with a manner of singular meekness, suddenly left the room. So it happened that he bore no part in this incomprehensible conversation.

I was pleased to observe that Cranston's partiality for the dark-eyed cousin was apparently sincere. He had seated himself at first by her side, and engaged her in a lively conversation; he claimed a previous acquaintanceship on the ground of the stage-ride, and she, on her part, protesting an utter want of recollection of ever having seen him before, while expressing her infinite delight that she had at length, to-day, experienced that pleasure. Miss Smith's cousin was manifestly a very brilliant creature, and not at all afraid of men. Mrs. Eliot and the Judge presently fell into a discourse concerning the weather, and I, having mustered all the courage requisite for such a desperate undertaking, crossed the room and took position near Miss Smith. Having effected this movement, it of course very soon became a matter of extreme propriety, and after a while, of imminent necessity, to say somewhat to my fair neighbor, even if my remark might not happen to be particularly profound or interesting; but I could think of nothing to say, and as the moments flew I could feel my flushed face benumbed and stiffened by diffidence; my tongue was paralyzed, and my dry lips seemed incapable of the office of articulation. Cranston, meanwhile, was getting on famously with the darkeyed lady, who was laughing heartily at

some of his drollery, and the Judge and Mrs. Eliot were talking politics.

The necessity of submitting some sort of a remark for the consideration of the beautiful Miss Smith had now come to be absolute. I was at my wit's end, striving to invent some pertinent observation. There was an air of reserve about the lady that set me back distressingly. She was far more beautiful than I had supposed her to be, and she had a manner of stateliness and hauteur that was as unexpected to me as it was embarrassing. She was taller, and her form more rounded; her cheek had more color, and her eye more fire and depth than had been apparent, the day I had seen her in the coach; there was the same indescribable fascination about her that had caused my abrupt plunge into the restless sea of love, but it now seemed intensified, magnified, multiplied. I felt that my doom was sealed, my fate fixed, and for the first time in my life was conscious that upon the will of a woman depended the question, whether I should, in the future, be happy, or miserable. "Can it be," thought I, "can it be that this superb creature will ever be mine?" Whereupon I forgot to breathe, and recovered only with a gasp that I was fain to disguise by an awkward attempt at a cough, so that, on the whole, it sounded as if Í had hiccupped. Then I was forced to answer my own question mentally, and say to myself: “No, sir, it isn't a possible thing. You will never be so happy. Some other man -"

Meanwhile, I said nothing, and Miss Smith also preserved a strict silence. She sat within an arm's length of me, in a large, old-fashioned chair, with her face indeed, turned towards me, but with her glance averted. What folly for me to attempt to describe her, gentlemen! Imagine the most beautiful woman that your fancy can paint, and Miss Smith was far more beautiful. But, notwithstanding her superb, queenly mien, I noticed that her bosom heaved, her breath came quick and short, her nostrils slightly dilated at each inspiration, and there was an occasional nibbling at her compressed nether lip, with her little pearls of teeth, and a nervous motion of her head, that betokened more agitation than she could entirely conceal.

This encouraged me somewhat, for if she had appeared wholly self-possessed, I never could have dared to address her. At last, recovering the partial use of my lips and tongue, I began in a husky tone, "If I could have foreseen, the other

day, that I should have the honor of meeting you here, the pleasure I found in my journey would have been greatly enhanced."

"Thank you," replied Miss Smith, deigning to raise her eyes to my glowing countenance for the first time; "ah, then, you are one of the gentlemen who came in the coach with us, Saturday?

What could I say? She looked at me with an air as if trying to recognize my features. That this was acting, I was very sure. But what could be the reason of her wish to affect such an unflattering forgetfulness of my person.

"Then," said I, after a short pause, rather thinking aloud than really intending to ask the question, "then you did not expect to see me to-day, until I came?"

"I most certainly did not," replied Miss Smith, emphatically, and with an angry glance at her cousin.

Mrs. Eliot, with an anxious and troubled face, began to say something, but most fortunately, at this moment, Frank entered with his mother. I immediately recognized the old lady that I had seen on the deck of the steamboat, at the time of my summerset and dive. She had by no means forgotten the unlucky occurrence that I have just mentioned, or the concern that she had felt on witnessing it, and she forthwith placed herself in a large rocking-chair, which her son placed near mine, and commenced a very animated conversation.

"You can't think, Mr. Lovel, how frightened I was," said she, alluding to my falling overboard-the which, it seems, was an event that had made a deep impression on her memory. "Didn't you hear me scream? I supposed, of course, you'd be ground to atoms, between the steamboat and the vessel! Didn't you hear me scream?"

"I think likely," I replied; "I heard several cry out as I fell."

"Oh yes," continued the old lady, shuddering at the recollection, till she rustled in her stiff, black silk dress, like a field of maize in the wind; "you must have heard, if you took any notice at all. I know I screamed as loud as I could, which was not very loud either, perhaps, I was so scared and horror-struck.

But

I screamed the best I was able to, and so did Helen here. She'd noticed you Bome time before we knew who you were, and I heard her speak to Frank, and point you out to him. She thought you must be the captain, you was so tall and straight; and after Frank told us who

you were, she kept watching you, and when you were getting down on that shelf from which you jumped, she spoke to Frank again, and told him to ask you not to jump."

The old lady paused, quite out of breath, and had recourse to her snuffbox, and then passed it to the Judge. Miss Smith snapped several of the ivory sticks of her fan, and gnawed away at her rich, ripe under lip, in a way that I'd have given the world to imitate. Mrs. Eliot, I was not much surprised to observe, seemed a little annoyed, and Frank and the cousin exchanged sly glances of merriment, and then went to talking busily, the one to Judge Walker, and the other to Cranston.

"I really feel quite well acquainted with you," resumed the old lady, trying to find her pocket in the folds of her dress, to put up her snuff-box. "Frank used to write so much about you in his letters, and how kind you were to him when he was sick in Italy. And I believe you used to write to Helen, didn't you?" she continued, with a roguish smile slyly breaking out about her mouth; "and don't you recollect, Mr. Lovel, the little heart you sent to her? Well, you're married now, and that was a great while ago, so it's no harm to say that she has got the heart yet. I saw it in her workbox the other day."

"Oh, mamma," cried Mrs. Frank Eliot reproachfully, "you are mistaken in—” "Tut, child, I'm not," said the old lady.

"We all owe a great deal to Mr. Lovel,” said Mrs. Frank Eliot, with a glance at her husband; "I have been trying to tell him how heartily welcome he is here."

"Oh yes, indeed," cried the old lady, we are rejoiced to see him here finally. Pray, Mr. Lovel, why didn't you bring your wife with you? Frank used to know her, I believe; we should have been delighted to see her."

I stammered and explained that I was yet a bachelor. "Dear me!" exclaimed the astonished dowager, "do tell! why; excuse me, but really, I thought-why! I heard that you married a French lady, and that was the reason-well, of course I'm mistaken, and I'm glad of it; but where did I get such an idea?"

Frank and his wife laughed heartily and exchanged glances that assured me that he had confessed to cousin Helen his lapse at Paris, before my revelations had reached her ears by the way of Miss Smith. Every body else smiled, even Miss Smith did, who was playing with the broken fan in her lap.

Emboldened by this I turned towards her. "You heard my story the other day," said I, affecting an easy style of talking. "I leave it to you, is it fair that Mr. and Mrs. Eliot should laugh at me?"

"Indeed, sir," replied Miss Sunith, with a glance at once merry and disdainful, "I don't see how they can help it."

"Why!" exclaimed the old lady, turning towards her with a look of admonition.

Oh! Frank Eliot!" suddenly cried the dark-eyed cousin, with extraordinary vivacity, and springing from her seat, "when did you get those beautiful deer? Oh! the darlings!" she continued, running across the room to a window, which, reaching to the floor, opened upon the piazza of one of the wings. "I must go out and see them;" and out indeed she ran, pursued by Cranston. Miss Smith also rose to follow, but was detained by the old lady. "My dear," said she, "don't think of going out in this broiling sun without a bonnet. You'd be tanned like an Indian; you know how easily you freckle, child."

But, aunty-"

"Stay here, child," insisted the dowager shaking her head, "I shall want you in a moment to- "

"Well," cried Frank, interrupting, "Lovel, how do you like Miss Smith?"

I was completely astounded by this question, and gazed stupidly towards the lady thus abruptly mentioned.

Do you know," he continued, speaking to his wife, "that Lovel has been smitten by the charms of our lively friend, and has promised to forgive me all my trespasses and sins to himward, in consideration that I have, in turn, promised to say a good word for him to Mary? Recollect that we rely on your discretion," he added, walking up to Miss Smith herself, and tapping her on the shoulder as she stood at the window. "I ought not to have exposed Lovel before you. He should have a chance to make love for himself."

"Fifty chances, if he pleases," replied Miss Smith, actually giving me a pleasant smile, albeit there was a slight alloy of disdain in it. "He'll be sure to win," she added sarcastically, "he is such a proficient in the art of wooing. I wish you'd let me go out, aunty," said she again turning towards the window, "and then you may all talk without being obliged to rely on my discretion."

"No, no," said the dowager, "the sun is too hot."

"I couldn't," added Mrs. Frank Eliot.

Miss Smith almost pouted, and I ventured a smart pull at one of my whiskers for the purpose of testing the question whether I was in fact wide awake or dreaming. The evidence thus obtained tended somewhat to dispel the doubts I had begun to entertain.

"Mary's a nice girl, Mr Lovel, and would make you a good wife," said the old lady, fumbling after her snuff-box. "She's a capital housekeeper, and when she settles down steady, she'll be a woman that'll make some man happy. I beg your pardon, but really I can't help talking to you as if I had known you a long time."

She

"Well!" thought I, dumbfoundered with amazement, "if this isn't cool may I never-❞ I glanced at the young lady so strongly recommended to me. stood at the window apparently watching the brunette and Cranston playing with the deer on the lawn, in perfect unconcern at the conversation of which she herself formed so distinguished a subject.

There was a pause for a moment. I suppose they were looking wonderingly at the blank expression of my face. It gave me opportunity for reflection, and the truth began to dawn upon my bewildered mind.

"I have been most confoundedly mistaken," said I-my presence of mind was wholly gone and I thought aloud in my earnestness. "It must be then," said Ĩ, "that she"-I nodded towards the window -"is not Miss Mary Smith.'

The lady whom I had designated started and turned quickly round. The blood rushed to her face, she bit her lip, and clasped her hands with a shrinking manner for a moment, during which it was evident that she was most painfully embarrassed, and then in a breath's space she drew herself up haughtily, and, Heavens! what a beautiful expression of scornful anger was in the flashing glance that Eliot and I were entitled to divide equally between us. Frank returned the glance for a moment with a blank stare, and then suddenly seizing hold of the Judge, the pair went off together with a roar like a double-barrelled-gun.

Frank, you are too bad;" cries his wife reproachfully. "Did he tell you she was Miss Smith?" she asked.

"Never, never;" cried Frank, "did I, Lovel?"

"No," said I, "Deacon Curtiss-"

"Didn't you hear me when I presented him to you all?" cried Frank, when he had recovered from the extremity of his fit of merriment. Didn't I do it right?"

of

Mrs. Eliot again turned to me, I had by this time begun to recover my scattered senses, for the fair lady had disappeared through the window. "I have been to blame," said I. "This lady I saw Saturday in the coach. I afterwards endeavored to ascertain her name, and supposed that I had succeeded. I was satisfied that she was Miss Mary Smith, the daughter of Captain William Smith. I came here expecting to see her, and found her here. I heard no other names when I was presented to the ladies than 'Eliot' and 'Smith,' and supposed that it was the name of the lady who sat yonder that I failed to catch. She, I now suppose, is Miss Mary Smith."

"At your service, sir," suddenly cried the dark-eyed damsel, reappearing at the window.

"And now, I beg to know," cried I, waxing desperate, while Mrs. Eliot, Frank, the Judge, and even the old lady, who began to appreciate the scene, laughed in chorus; "I beg to know who the lady is that I took to be Miss Smith?"

Why don't you know now ?" asked the old lady.

"Oh! Frank! Frank!" cried Mrs. Eliot.

"Upon my word," he replied, as well as he could for laughing," I am guiltless of any knowledge of the chief mistake. Lovel told me he saw Miss Smith in the stage-and so he did. How did I know that he had got the wrong,” and hereupon every body went into fits again.

"But who is the other lady?" I demanded when the first lull in the gale of merriment occurred.

"Why don't you remember her?" cried the old lady. "Why! she is my niece, Helen Eliot !"

"Helen Eliot!" I exclaimed.

Why: that's what I supposed you would find out when I introduced you to-day," cried Frank, "and I supposed you had found it out."

"Is it possible!" said I, turning to Mrs. Frank Eliot.

"Why no, indeed," replied that lady; "she is my sister Helen."

"For God's sake then, who are you?" I inquired, determined not to be surprised at any thing; while Cranston and the veritable Mary Smith joined their voices to the general chorus.

"Me!" screamed the lady; "pray whom have you taken me to be? surely you have called me by my proper name several times to-day."

"Yes," said I, sorety perplexed; “yes, you are now Mrs. Frank Eliot-but I had always supposed that Mr. Frank Eliot had married Miss Helen Eliot-the cousin Helen," I added after a pause, "that I used to talk about with him."

"Whereas," interposed Frank, "to make an explanation that I thought would be supererogatory after your being presented to the several ladies today, I married, instead, Miss Ellen Eliot, an elder sister of Miss Helen of that name; of whom, as you say, we used to discourse somewhat in our days of travel, and with whom you rode in the stage from the city."

"And with whom he fell madly in love," added the Judge.

"So it's not me, after all, then," cried Miss Mary Smith, in her own proper person, clasping her hands with a stage "Heavens! what a disappoint

air.

ment!

"I beg you'll be consoled," said Crans

ton.

"Need I tell you who the Other One is, Lovel?" asked Frank, taking his wife and me each by the hand.

66

Quite a pretty tableau, I declare,” cried Miss Smith. Just then the dinner bell rang. "And there's the prompter's bell," she continued; "let the curtain drop."

Here Mr. Lovel, as he called himself, abruptly paused, and after moistening his lips for a moment at the mouth of his brandy flask, took a cigar from his case, and turned to the revenue-service officer for a light. After that he settled himself in his seat, drew a long breath, and began smoking.

"Is that all?" inquired the stout gentleman with the round-topped cap. "I've finished," replied Mr. Lovel. "But what happened next?" persisted the stout gentleman.

66

Dinner," ," said Mr. Lovel, without taking his cigar from his lips.

"And what next?" still inquired the sleepy gentleman, with great pertinacity. "Wine and cigars, and further the deponent saith not,” said Mr. Lovel.

"Pshaw!" said the stout gentleman testily.

"A most worthy conclusion if it must be so," cried the sailor. "Come, gentlemen, are you ready for the next yarn?"

"I should rather hear whether the last narrator married Helen Eliot;" said the stout gentleman, a little sulk ly.

"I should be happy to give you all the information in my power," said Mr.

Lovel; "but I have at some length given you the reason why, some time since, I resolved never to speak of my private affairs in a public conveyance. You can readily understand that my experience has made me cautious."

"Sir," said the sailor, suddenly touching me on the shoulder, "Will you stand your trick now?"

"If it is my turn at the wheel,” said I, in reply.

There ensued a simultaneous kissing of the "poor dumb mouths" of the little willow-covered flasks, and a general relighting of cigars and renewal of tobacco quids. After the bustle occasioned by these exercises had subsided, I commenced my story, which I do not feel obliged to put upon paper in the same words. In telling it, therefore, I shall address myself directly to the reader.

PREFACE No. 1.

ACCESSORIES.

THESE I describe, not to make words,

but because there is no absurdity, but much reason, in showing (as I will by these "accessories" show) what set of circumstances, under my own control, I gather around me and successfully use to facilitate composition. I desire to exhibit, as transparently as I can, the working of the machine, as well as the product furnished; as a certain confectioner in Broadway grinds his chocolate in the sight of all the people, on a slab traversed by four great mullers, which do their work in his front window.

1. Place. A fourth story room; windows looking southward over the mingled house and tree tops of a Puritan city, and westward (just at present), at the solemn ranks of a vast slow moving army of heavy thunderous clouds, debouching upon the hither slopes of the mountain range in that quarter of the horizon. The room is high, with gloomy purple walls painted in distemper, by my artist predecessor in occupancy; and the only furniture having any relation to this present writing is my chair, table and stationery, my books, which stand silent, and with their backs, according to the uncivil custom of their kind, towards me, their owner, and the piano.

2. Time. Five P. M.; day's work done; at least the perfunctory portion of it is done the treadmill work. That which remains is voluntary, and compares with the repetitious bread-earning morning toil, as do the discursive meandering investigations of children in the woods, or of leisurely shore-going adventurers in boats, with the treadmolendinar (I defy VOL. IV.-13

criticism; there is both etymology and authority for the adjective. Besides, an adjective I must have, and could I say treadmillian?) routine of the convict. At such a time the intellect, unless overworked to stupidity, expands and ascends as did the liberated Afrite, whom the fisherman freed from the brazen jar into which Solomon had bejuggled him.

3. Circumstances; of which First:-I have played three well-fought games of chess; a Ginoco Piano, a King's Bishop's Gambit, and a King's Pawn. One ; whereof, that the intellectual excitement ensuing might be of a pleasant complexion, I took pains to be victor in two, and after a sharp contest did it. Second; I played a nocturne for piano-forte, that a due proportion of sombre fancies might be evoked to mingle with the combative and harshly vivid sensations, remaining from the violent strife over the chess-board. Third; I partook, and still at this present writing, do from time to time partake, of a certain confection, which I know by experience to possess a power of pleasurably stimulating the mental activity of the judicious eater. I had intended not to name the luxury, lest I should be suspected of covert advertising; and lest, too, I should direct the steps of some abstemious one to a harmful pleasure; but that I may shun the still more offensive imputation which I see in the distance, of praising port wine —or brandy-or cordial-drops (vile vehicles of vile specimens of vile fluids!), I must explain.

"Chocolate cream-drops," then, are my "particular wanity." Discovered by chance, while wandering in the wilderness of sweets, at Taylor's or Thompson's, the imperial confiture forthwith