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concerning one of the personages in Hume, whom he could not remember till I related several events of his life. Oh,' said he, when I read history, I always skip the names and dates !! »

I hope you have not skipped Miss Elton's name," said his father, and the date of your first meeting? Hey! you young dog?"

“Upon my word, it's quite ridiculous,” replied Frank, amid the general smiles which these youthful anecdotes had provoked; “ I'm sure I might skip Miss Elton herself altogether, for all the truth there is in Mary's accusation. She

may be a very decent sort of girl—I've no doubt she is; but as for—in respect to—so far from there being any danger of—”

Hold your tongue, sir !" cried his father. “ How dare you have the impertinence to speak in that way of the loveliest little bein

that ever grew off a rosebush? If that young lady, sir, has deigned to honour you with an instant's attention—if you've received so much as an accidental look from her, and not gone crazy, you young scoundrel, you're no son of mine."

“You're rather hard upon Frank,” said Harry. "He cannot publicly acknowledge a hope without also intimating that such a hope has some foundation. Frank is not only not one of those who would not boast of favours not received, but he would even not boast of favours received.”

Well, really, Harry,” said his mother, laughing heartily, “it seems to me you are almost as bad as Frank with

your speeches. You are not in love too, I hope ?" " Favours ! received and not received !” said Mr. LenWhy, what's all this?


such a coxcomb,” addressing Frank, “as to suppose that young lady fancies you worthy of the least notice ?"

“No; and that's what I've been trying to say. Nothing whatever has passed between Miss Elton and myself which-that in the least" He coloured again.

Come, come!" said Mrs. Lennox. “I won't have you all on Frank in this

father the cakes,

and let us leave the things of tomorrow unto to-morrow.”

"The lucky young rascal!" muttered his father; "and ashamed of it!"




“Really, sir," said Frank, with something more of em. phasis than became the relation between him and the person to whom he spoke, "as this is a discussion not altogether agreeable to me, and as I have quite finished

my breakfast, I must beg leave to withdraw.”

He rose from the table and was leaving the room, when his father called him back.

“Here, sir! Master Frank! Lieutenant Lennox! one thing let me say to you!"

“ What is it?"

“ If you think the attentions of this young lady importunate, had I not better forbid her the house? Ha! ha! ha!"

The door was closed with a decision which a good ob-server might have remarked above the merry laughter occasioned by the sally of Mr. Lennox.

“Poor, dear Frank !" remarked Mrs. Lennox. “ You really press him too far.”

“I wish all my children,” said Mr. Lennox, "to be able to stand jesting good naturedly, and to learn the art of constantly governing their temper. Frank is quick as lightning.”

" But it's soon 'over,” replied his mother. “Go after him, Harry, and soothe him. This matter is, I fear, too true for jesting."

Harry rose, and followed his brother out of the room.

* The young dog!" said Mr. Lennox, “what an actor he would make! Did you ever see such a splendid countenance! such haughtiness! and to me, too! Our names will live hereafter, Kate, in those two boys. have frittered away my life in peaceful pleasures. Instead of seeking power and fame, I have confined myself to a narrow circle, without influence, without a name. But if men want to know me hereafter, let them look at my sons. Is Frank really attached to Fanny Elton, though ?"

Certainly," said Mary ; " I have long seen it. They love each other passionately.”

“I have sometimes half thought,” said Mrs. Lennox, “ that Harry—"

“Oh no! mother, not at all! He never goes near her. I think, on the contrary, they are perfectly indifferent to each other."

“I confess," said Mrs. Lennox, “ I should like no one so well for a daughter-in-law as Fanny Elton."


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It is not easy to say what sense there is in jesting at young lovers. If they are entering into a union destined to be favourable to their happiness, there is nothing ridiculous in it; if not, it is rather a serious affair. Miss Elton had been like one of the family for years, and the Lennox children had played with her, and quarrelled and romped in happy freedom from the feverish malady which goes in the world by the name of love. But Time, that revolutionizing old gentleman, always busy with everything, and never leaving the smallest blade of grass one day what it was the day before, had almost imperceptibly altered the individuals in question. He had advanced the little, sturdy, hoop-playing Harry into a promising young lawyer; and Mary, with her short-cropped, boyish hair and pantalettes, into a slender girl of a little over fifteen. Frank's round jacket and smooth, rosy face were metamorphosed into an officer's becoming coat, and a manly, whiskered countenance, very much browned by the sun, where, however, as yet lurked all the transparent, beauty and ingenuousness of a boy; while Fanny Elton, from the sweetest little rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed child that ever was seen, who had a kiss for 'everybody that she loved, without particular reference to age or sex, had, somehow or other, acquired a new form and new ideas. And, in the intervals of Frank's military education at West Point, when he came home on a visit, or the family spent a day or two at that enchanting spot, he saw, year after year, the riotous little, beautiful tom-boy softened and subdued into gentle and lovely girlhood, inches and feet added to her stature, new lines and graces to her countenance, new charms and wonders to her form, timidity, blushes, expression, thought, feeling, and opinions unfolding themselves like hues and leaves in a rosebud, and with a fragrance which touched his senses as strangely. The romping and kissing, the shouting and quarrelling, had ceased. He was deep in the manly mysteries of mathematics, engineering, and other accomplishments indispensable to a soldier and a gentleman, and she-we might here attempt


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to trace, in a magnificent poetic style, the nature of the silent and enchanting changes which had come over her ; but the indulgent reader will doubtless let us off with the simple annunciation that she had shot up into a tall, sweet girl, and that, to make a long story short, Frank was desperately in love with her. In his present condition, he was not altogether, however, at his ease, as what lover ever is ! He had no reason to suppose himself disagreeable to her; on the contrary, their long acquaintancē, the intimacy of their childhood, the tender and close attachment and companionship existing between her and his sister, placed him on terms of perfect familiarity, and gave him not only the constant access of a favourite cousin, but of a brother. Lovers have been, who, for a moment's solitary interview with the object of their affection, for one touch of the peerless hand, one lock of hair, one worn riband, would have risked their lives. Frank's case was different. He was with this young person as often, as much, and as unobservedly as he pleased. He shook hands with her frequently. He occasionally walked with her from his father's house quite alone. He had already made a tolerable collection of ribands, shoestrings, old roses, etc., in the indefinite augmentation of which he did not see any particular danger or difficulty; and, had he boldly and plumply asked her for a lock of that rich auburn hair, on the occasion of his departure for Prairie du Chien, where he was likely to remain six or seven years, it is probable that, although the request had been preferred at dinner, before the whole family, the warm-hearted, sunshiny girl would have clipped him off a good bouncing handful without a moment's hesitation. Yet here he was, soon to start off for a place so many miles distant, without any probability of seeing her in seven long, changeful, horrible years, and yet he had not dared to venture any actual statement of his case, either to her or to any one else. The profound passion which steeped his soul—for young lieutenants of twenty can, if fairly put to it, love, when they meet such women, as well as other and older men—had led him only to break his repose by frequent moonlight promenades, to a considerable outlay of sixpences and shillings for real Havana cigars, to much melancholy meditation, to many mournful sighs, and to divers valorous resolutions of decisive action, which melted into thin air at the presence of the laughing, lovely girl, who had made all this havoc with him.


One thing, however, he had supposed, viz., that the state of his heart was unobserved by others. He had fancied it in his power to be with such a girl, in the presence of other women, and those women his mother and sister, without betraying himself to them, and perhaps he was not unreasonable in such a supposition. For how could he, in his innocence, fear that, what he had endeavoured so long and ineffectually to communicate to the object of it, had been divined by two comparatively uninterested spectators.

The onset of his whole family at breakfast had cast a new light over the affair. He had been detected, exposed; and quizzed. At first he seriously thought of setting out for Prairie du Chien that very morning, without bidding good-by to anybody, and taking with him only his hat and

Then he resolved to throw himself at the feet of Miss Elton, and ask her, just in so many words, whether she would have him or not. Then he conceived the idea of crushing in its bud a passion which could not be fortunate, and all these fiery impulses ended in his choosing, with some care, a cigar from a silver box on the mantelpiece, lighting the same by a pretty fire machine at its side, sitting down in a comfortable fauteuil by an open window looking into a garden full of lilach and other flowers, and smoking furiously. In this state Harry found him when, at his mother's request, he left the breakfast-table on his affectionate commission.

“You'll ruin your health, smoking as you do, Frank,” said he, by way of opening the conversation, and with something of the paternal authority of an elder brother. “You smoke altogether too much. One or two cigars a day are enough for any one. Beyond thatby-the-way, those are very nice ones. Where did you get them ?".

“I ordered a box home yesterday from Bininger's—try one-they are superb. Look there! Did you ever see anything richer than that ?”

And he held out the cigar he was smoking, which, although nearly finished, retained its original form--a phantom of snowy ashes nearly two inches long.

“I don't care, for this once, if I do smoke one with you, though I generally postpone it till after dinner.”

The luxury of the cigar is not confined to the mere physical solace. Its management aids conversation, and ihe attention to be paid to it fills up the pauses. If the

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