SAMUEL WRIGHT, Editor and Proprietor. VOLUME XXIX, NUMBER 20.] PUBLISHED EVERY SITURILY MORNING Office in Northern Central Railroad Ccm ir any's .13uilding,norlh-weslcorner Front and ra2nue streets. forms of Subscription fine Copy per annum.i f Paid in advance .. 44 if not paid withinthree .monthsfrom commencement °film year, 200 GileiatatiSt LL Clcyjps,. No subscription received (orn lea• time than six ,months; and no paper will be discontinued until all Arrearages are paid, unlcssat the option of the pub •iehrr. (175Toney may beremitted by mail attheoublish 'nes risk. Rates of Advertising. square [6 lines]one week, three weeks, each tabsequen [insertion, 10 [l2:ines] one week, 50 three weeks. 1 CO g I each subsequenlinsertion. 25 CmgeradvertisetnentF.ln proportion. A liberal discount will be mode to querlerly,halr yearly or yearlyadvertisers,who arc strietlyconfined to their business. r tlDEinj. "Do you think he is Married?" SY JOAN O. SAXC Madam!—you arc very pressing, And! can't decline the ta.k; With the slightest:gift of gueising, You would hardly need to ask! Don't you sec a hint of marriage In his sober-sided face? In his rather careless carriage And extremely rapid pace? If he's not committed treason. Or some wicked action done, Can you sec Me faintest reason Why a bachelor should run? Why should he be in a flurry? But a loving wife to greet, Is a circumstance to hurry The most dignified of feet! When afar the man has spied Ler, If the grateful, happy elf Does not haste to be beside her, lie mast be beside himself! Ti is but trifle, may be— But observe his practised tone, liVhen he calms your stormy boby, Just as if it were his °wit! Do you think a certain meekness You have mentioned in his look=, Is a chronic optic weakness That has come ef rending books? Did you ever nee his Peering underneath ta hood, save enough for recognition, As a civil person should: Could a capuchin he colder When he glances a• he must, At n finely rounded shoulder, Or a proudly swelling Mist' Madam'—think of every feature, Then deny it if yon can— nes a fond. connubial creature, And n rery married man' grarttinno. From flou,hold Words Her Face 'Tomas the sweetest face imaginable—and the most feminine. I could read in it—for by our faces, our gestures, our attitudes, our manner of dressing, and fifty other external indications that we have not the least idea of, we divulge continually all sorts of men tal characteristics that we think our neigh bors know nothing about, nay, that we our selves, perhaps, know nothing about;—l could read in the face before me, I say, an ignorance of evil, a good sense and kindness of heart, that made me long to know the possessor of such a face. That look of cheerfulness, too,—was it given by the eyes, or do all the features combine when an expression is to be pro duced? At any rate there it was. You could see, with half an eye, that she was neither dis• contented, nor listless, nor a grumbler.— About the whole face there was a great, but at the same time an indescribable, charm. One glance at the evenness of her braided hair, at the tying of her bonnet strings, and and at the arrrngement of her dress, told of an almost excessive cleanliness and neatness. In it possible that I have absolutely for gotten, till this moment, to mention that I am all this time talking about a photograph? About a cheap photograph, too, in a street door case, with a touter lying in ambush, who was down upon me with a pressing in vitation to sit, just as I was concluding the above analysis. It is unnecessary to say, that by this re quest I was, as everybody always is, driven from the spot. Not, however, before I had observed that the little - lady whose portrait had first caught my attention, certainly owed nothing to surrounding circumstances; seeing that she was bounded' on the north by an Ethiopian singer, in the costume of his country; on the south by a clown, also in sanoniaals; on the east by an itinerant pastry vender (the tarts were exquisitely rendered); and the west by a member of the xnetropolitan police force, in whom the-ar tist had caught with singular felicity that expression of slow unresisting, nay, satisfied etrxngulation peculiar to that body. It,,nas "the breathing time of the day with tne,"And, driven by the touter from the conter . qplation of the photographic studies, I wandeQd on. Haunted, though, by that face,—l could not get rid,of it. I saw it through every thing I io*d at. Thus, when I got oppo site the eqr,Ratical Shoe Mart, and found that.—yes, 41 s cwas the cheap shop, and no mistake,—AAat.Ais was Tommy Peacock's. and that the ,r,uelic were adjured with af fecting earnests:lw, to:`to try T. P.'e nobby side-laced." I A-s,,a mixing up my beauty with I'. rve . advertisements, and wondering whether I* ,boots ,Pere buttoned or Bal morals; or whether Tommy Peacock had en snared her as she came away from the pho tograpic studio, and encased her dear little ancles in the "nobly side-laced." Her face was on the lids of the snuff boxes in the tobacconists windows; on the heading of the songs at the music-sellers; on the shoulders of the dummies at the hair dressers': and finally, it hovered before the coluimns of my penny newspaper when I got home, and prevented me from giving my full attention to the philanthropic announce ments of the "retired physician whose sands of lifo had nearly run out," and who insists on curing us of consumption for nothing, or to the eager, but somewhat impertinent questionings of those mechanicians who are perpetually inquiring if wo double up our perambulators, and whether or not we bruise our oats. Si 50 CEI The restlessness engendered by this state of things was not to be borne; so I wandered forth again, turning over in my mind all sorts of extravagant schemes, having for their object the discovery of the original of this remarkable portrait. This could only be done in one way. I must face the touter, —walk into the studio, and get all the in formation that was to be got, out of the pro prietor of the establishment. I felt that reflection would not do, and that if I hesitated I should lose all the cour age necessary for the exploit. So I treated my body as a piece of machinery,—worked it past the touter, and into the operating room, and there compelled the muscles of the tongue to fulfil their function, and to in quire of tbo scientific character who presided, and who presented an appearance something between a strolling actor and a druggist, whether lie could inform me who was the original of the portrait in the very centre of his street-door case, expressing at the same time, as a means of conciliating him, my readiness to purchase the likeness. The result of my interview with this func tionary was far from satisfactory. llc stared at me long and fixedly, pulled his mous tache with a finger and thumb deeply stained with chemicals, and finally stated, that he knew nothing whatever about the party; that she merely came in promiscuous to have her portrait taken; and, having got it took it away with her, having first, nt the' artist's request, sat for another likeness for the benefit of the door-case. Ile had no wish to disturb the arrangement of the portrait. outside, and therefore would decline to part with the specimen. This inhuman person stood and sulkily watched the the whole way down a long covered passage which led from the studio to the street, causing my back to feel so un comfortable that I had vague inclinations to put up my umbrella as a shelter from the glare which I felt consuming the very mar row of my spine. This was a bad beginning; but, as there seemed to be no help for it. the only thing to be done was to forget all about it. My faith is large in time, in these case; and, though that pleasant face still kept for sonic time recurring to my memory, yet gradually the proprietor of the scythe and hour-glass did his work, and I thought of it less and less. My occupation (that of a reporter to a cheap newspaper) while it keeps me at times fiercely busy, leaves me now and then fitful intervals of leisure. Of these I always take advantage to get as much exercise as I pos sibly can. Whenever I get away from these mystic hieroglyphics of short-hand—in the formation of which my principal duties con sist—my first object is to get the sky over my head. As long as my legs will carry me I eschew a roof. I become a nornade or Arab of the desert in my habits; and, after snatching a meal as I go along, eat my mor sel, as the 'French phrase it, on the thumb. I believe I should pass my night in a tent. if I might put one up in the Tottenham Court Road. It was, then, in one of these intervals of exercise, in the busy thoroughfare which I have just named, that I met her! Met herl I almost ran against her; for I was looking in another direction, and she came upon me suddenly. She was carrying a parcel, and was accompanied by a little girl who looked like her younger sister. She was past me in a moment, and I was left a fixture on the pavement,—bewildered, undecided, stupefied. In this state I re mained fur halt a minute, much buffeted and knocked about by the passers-by. But in that half minute I had at least come to the conclusion that she must not be lost sight of. I turned and cast myself upon her track. Then came a stage of doubt. Was it she? In order to resolve this questiomit became' necessary that I should get in front of her, walk rapidly to the next turning. and lean ing against a lamp-post, as if waiting for some one, examine her carefully as she ap proached and passed me. These things were done, and resulted in a conviction, that the original of the portrait, which had so powerfully impressed me, was hastening along in front of me. There is this great difference between a photograph and a picture; with regard to the latter we are often disappointed where we see the original, while with the former this is never the case. The centre compart ment of the street-door case, which plays so important a part in this drama, was infi nitely less satisfactory than the charming little figure I was in pursuit of. Following any one in this way is not so easy a thing as you might suppose. If you keep too far off you are in danger of losing the object of "NO ENTERTAINMENT IS SO CHEAP AS READINci, NOR ANY PLEASURE SO LASTINU." COLUMBIA, PENNSYLVANIA, SAT URDAY 3 your pursuit altogether, for people hare wonderful ways, in these eases, of suddenly disappearing, as it seems, into tho very bowels of the earth. Let us take an instance. You are a boy of sixteen—you have been taken for the first time to the opera—you have seen Carlotta Grisi, and are, as any right-minded youth of that age would be, madly in love with her. You linger at stage-doors, and one day you see her come out front rehearsal. It is by no means an uncommon occurrence that she walks home very plainly dressed, and accom panied by a shabby female servant. You determine to find out whero she lives, that you may go and worship outside the house —a common practice at the age, and one fraught with tremendous gratification. It doesn't do later in life somehow. You de termine to follow her, and soon get into the crowded thoroughfare. You come to a turn ing—she was in front of you a moment ego, but you don't see her. You look wildly round—you are losing a little time, but what are you to do? You will go a little way down that turning. But you don't see her, and you rush back to the main line, running on madly ahead, and trying to see over people's heads. Still that straw bon net with the brown ribbons is not to be dis covered. Is it possible you have passed her? Well it is barely possible; so you will go back a little. And, as all hope is at an end, I give you up, leaving you with a blank expression of face, standing at the original corner when the loss occurred. I think that, by the time we had got to a small house, in a quiet, little street, in the vicinity of the New, Road, I had been found out, but I am not sure. Therewas a stationer's shop on the ground floor, and a private door on which was a brass-plate, with the name of Barker on it— Barker—only Barker—nothing more. The door she opened with a key, and en tering, closed it after her. In a minute it re-opened, a servant looked out, examined me with a scowl, and closed it once more, and finally. I had to hasten back to my work, and was for some days so closely occupied that I had no opportunity of continuing my ad venture. But as soon as I could get a couple of hours clear, I was off, with no definite object in view, it is true: but simply re solved to get opposite that little interesting house as speedily ns possible. It is astonishing what a very little way I perceived I had got in having found out whero she lived. I was so absurdly little nearer to knowing her. It was such a very small matter at my comparatively mature age of nine and twenty, to be standing, star ing at thoe inexorable bricks. Observed too, observed by the general dealer whose station was at his shop , loor; observed by the lady who retailed oysters at the corner; observed by the policeman who came to the other corner, and took up a position there apparently with the sole ob ject of observing me. Observed—why even the milk-woman had her eye upon me, and she spent a good deal of time in that stre,t whore she had evidently a large practice— The wretched little urchins, playing at some thing with bits of lead, left off to whisper and point at me. In short, I could stand it no longer, and was obliged to take myself off, and leave my observers masters of the field. Under these painful circumstances, I re solved, as a pis :incr, to return in the eve ning and see if I could get a little informa tion out of the scowling servant. Uncom monly little information it was. "Did Mrs. Williams live there?" I asked, politely, when my knock was answered by the apparition of the ill-favored servant. I thought this as good a way of beginning as any other. "No!" was the answer, with a scowl and a tendency to close the door. "Was she quite sure?" was my next in quiry. "Yes!" with a sniff, with an increased tendency to shut the door. 'Didn't a lady with a little girl lodge there?" "No; nobody lodged there at all." With a scowl and a sniff, and so increased a ten dency to close the door, that that inclination appeared to obtain a complete mastery over her, and she did close it in my face. I lost no time in hastening to a neighbor ing tavern in whose window I had observed an announcement that the Post Office Di rectory was taken in there. I turned to the street and to the number: "Ampidea, Thom as, stationer; Barker, Miss, pianist." I closed the volume, and putting down two pence for the bitter-beer which had entitled me to my information, proceeded slowly and meditatively on my way. "If," said I, with a very strong emphasis in that conjunction, "if, as she of the scowl bath deposed, there are no lodgers in the house, it followeth that my photograpie beauty must be either of the family of Am phlett, Thomas, stationer, or that she must be herself Barker, Miss, pianist. Now, had she been an Amphlett, she would have en tered by the shop door, which stood inviting ly open. Since then, I argued with a logi cal clearness which astonished me myself. she is not a lodger any more than she is an Amphlett, there remaineth but one conclu sion which can be rationaly arrived at. Yes: I see it all, sweet girl! she is doubt less, by her industry and talent., support ing her aged parents in the country. and the little girl is her younger sister whom she has taken to lice with her as a companion, and, to a certain extent, a protection.- More enraptured than ever at the picture I had drawn, I was more than ever puzzled how to proceed. To annoy her by following her about was not to be thought of; to speak to her in the street was equally detestable. A letter—a carefully worded letter— seemed my only chance. And very soon after my return home I had composed, with infinite effort, an address, in which I im plored an interview, an opportunity of ex pressing ithe admiration which had con sumed .ile ever since I had seen her portrait in the street.—"lt would shuck me more than words could tell," I said, "if the thought over suggested itself to her that I could be so base as to write to insult one in so defenceless a position. Far from it; the ardor of my feelings was only equalled by the honorable and (respectful nature of them." The letter concluded with the suggestion of the time and place best suited fur the meeting which I so eagerly desired. Do I get there before the time? Of course I get there before the time. My head feel ing very warm, my fingers very cold, and my mouth very dry. It is evening. As the appointed hour draws near and passes, all these symptoms become aggravated. Ag gravated so much that when that figure which, at a little distance, in the dark, I thought might ba the subject of my hopes and fears, gets under the lamp, it is a posi tive relief to me to find that it is not she; but, on the contrary, a small female with a large head, dressed in outrageous taste, mid dle-aged, and ringleted. But why does she of the middle-age and the ringlets—she of the large head and odious costume, arrest her steps when she has just gut past me? Why does she go a little farther and there hesitate again? Why does she return? And why-0 why—with a mincing gesture and an affectation of maiden bashfulness, terrible to behold, does fdle draw forth a letter, and holding it to wards me, inquire if I am the writer of it! Because—because I am an ill-starred miscreant—became I was born on a Friday —because I am a fool and an idiot, and a rash, misguided, misinformed, mistaken wretch, destined to expiate my follies by tor tures too horrible to reflect on; because, as she informed me when a faint gurgling rat tle at the back of my throat conveys to her, I suppose, the plea of guilty - to the letter; be cause, I say, she is Barker, Miss, pianist, who, though deeply conscious of the impru dent step she is taking in thus according an interview to a stranger, is yet impelled to do so by reason of the loneliness of her heart, which longs for sympathy, and by a strange peesentiment (engendered by the nature of that accursed document which I wrote in an accursed hour) a presentiment that in its author she should find at length a litunnn being capable of filling up the void within. I ran away! ran away fast: for the first half mile very fast; for the next quarter of a mile not so fast; then I stopped, looked behind and listened; then for a quarter of a mile I trotted gently; then I stapled and (if I may use the expression), looked myself in the face. Reflecting over this unhappy mistake, I could only conclude that the domestic with the scowl had deceived me as to their being no lodgers in the house; that the young lady, or the little girl who was with her, had ob served me following them, and had directed the .ervant to give me no information. I remembered that the door had opened just after the two had got inside, and that the handmaiden of the ill-favored visage took note of me as if she had been told that the person waiting outside was to be thwarted in every conceivable way. I must own that I thought all the better of her for this. It showed a modesty and difficulty of access, which was a good sign. But how completely I was foiled. I did not dare to go near the house for fear of meeting with the susceptible Barker. The only sustenance left fur my passion consist ed in occasionally palsing the photographic establishment which had orignated it, and gazing at the portrait as long as the toutor would allow me, and this official began soon to look at toe so suspiciously that even that gratification had to be given up by degrees. A considerable interval elapses, and then time and occupation are at work fulfilling their mission, and producing - oblivion. I had not got fifty yards from the photo graph-shop, where I had been taking a sur reptitious look at this strangely irressistible portrait by the light of the gas-lamp (11.)r it VMS evening) when I came upon her again. I had not followed her fifty yards more when she turned into a poorish square, knocked at the door of one of the houses, and was instantly admitted. They—the little girl was with her again— they had not seen one this time, I was sure. It was night. The time of my following them was short, and the moment we got in to the square, I had darted over to the en closure aide of it, which was very dark, and from thence had watched them. ",No more mistake., Charles Robert, — I said, "till.; time. Lean thrre against the railing, my son, and keep thine eyes upon the house." I follow my own adc ice and am speedily rewarded. In a very few minutes the door opens and a servant emerges. Quite anoth er type of domestic though, from my last terrible esperiencc: a nice, stumpy litle ar ticle this, and smiling, with a good black smear upon her nose, and every other ele ment calculated to impair her dignity, and deprive her of the power of impressing rne ORNING, NOVEMBER 20, ISSS. with awe. With a jug jin her hand, too, bless her,—an empty jug, and a large door key. Who's afraid? Not I. I wanted her to tell me, I said, coming up with her rapidly, and dropping a shilling into the empty jug, where it revolved with a jingling sound before it settled down;— I wanted her to tell me who that young lady was whom she had let into the house a minute ago? She did'nt know whether she ought to tell me or no, it se em ed. Of course she ought, I said—an un answerable argument. IVell, she supposed there was no barns in it. "Well, it was Miss—" Hurrah, no beast of a husband in the case! She's mine! "Where's the license?—" Miss Fenton and her little sister. "Wlso is she? Does she live with her father and mother? What is her father?" "Yes; she lives wills her pa and ma, and he's a professor of dancing, Mr. Fenton • 1,/ "Where does he teach? There? point ing to the house. "No; he have a class at the rooms in Hangel Street." I should liked to have kissed her. Per haps I might without offence. Perhaps if it hadn't been for the black upon her nose —but we will not go too deeply into motives. It is the unwisest course in the world. It is enough that I didn't. I squeezed her hand heartily; thanked her, and as soon as I got out of hearing, sung the whole of Non piu uiesta with all the variations, right to a note. I believe I am an accomplished dancer.— It is my happy privilege to believe that I am an accomplished dancer. I have been told so by my partners before now. I have tried to waltz opposite my chamber looking glass, that I might see; and though I could nut see: whether when it stood on the table, or when I had lowered it to a chair, or eveg when I had placed it on the floor, I yet feel convinced that I any an accomplished dancer. Be that as it might, to begin learning to dance again even under Miss Fenton's papa, was not to be thought of, or at any rate must be left fur a last resource. But I re membered that it is a common practice with Professors of dancing, to gibe weekly assem blies to which the public is admitted by tickets, and on consulting the placards out side the rooms in Angel Street, I found, sure enough, that every Wednesday was a Grand Qua,bille Night, admission, one shilling. Of course she would. be there—you know —O, of courser Large are the Rooms in Angel Street, and the Rooms in Angel Street arc dark, and a little bare looking withal; and it happens when rooms are large and dark, and a little bare-looking. and nut over full of company, they are apt to stike a casual observer with gloom, and with gloom was I stricken, of a surety, and with a deadly chill, when 1 entered them on the very next 'Wednesday after I had read the announcement. I\ly hat was taken from me, too, down-stairs, :tad my paletot, and I was sent up, feeling bare and shelterless. Even if I had brought a stick, it would base Leen a melancholy consolation. But, doubtless, that would have been take') away, too, so it's just as well. Why a harp, and a violin, and a clarinet, and a fife, should not make merry music, I 'lent know; but they didn't. They were playing the English Quadrilles, hut I dis tinctly assert that it was not merry music. Why Thames mud-colored merino should have been selected as the favorite material for the ladies' dresses, I don't know either, but it was, and when any of them had a bit of color about them, it was c3mmonly in the shape of a light blue neck-ribbon: and you must by no means say, that light Lint and Thames mud-color is a cheerful mixture, on a cold night with a drizzling rain falling.— Well, I suppose they were very pooor, and had only their working dresses to come in, so we must not he too hard upon them.— Howbeit, there are plenty of better colors as cheap as the grayish brown tint I have alluded to. One appalling feature of the assembly re• mains to he mentioned:—they all knew each other. I knew nobody. And four young ladies, whom by their appearance, I should take to be Pantheon stall-proprietors,—three in Thames mud trimmed with gray and the fourth in slate-color, with blue decorations. —these young ladies, I say. seated on a form near the door— took note of me, with covert whisperings and gig,glings, to my soul's con fusion. Pervading, all parts of the room with a fixed smile, but yet with an undefinable suggestion of the schoolmaster about his expression, which I have noticed that teach ing anything always imparts, was .3.119 q Fenton's papa. Tho only individual pres ent in (netting costume, tall, erect, and with a blessed belief in Fenton. I have now to relate a strange optical de lusion. 'Perhaps some of the readers of this paper may at some time hale experienced something, similar. 'Perhaps not. Standing in the room then, as I have said, just by the door, and examining the company one by one, I at last, as it seemed to inc. detect ed my photographic id l dancing in a quad rille at the other end of the room. I didn't admit it to myself that T felt a little disap pointed in her, but I think I was. However, there she was. evidently: there was a little look of the father about her, too—eh?—just a little about the eyes or somewhere? Now T must own that to these questionings ad- $1,50 PER YEAR IN ADVANCE; $2.00 IF NOT IN ADVANCE dressed to my-elf a lery guarded and hesi tating consent was given 1,2,' that other p.trt of me which I consulted. S I went up into a gallery at one cud of the room, and looked down upon her. Well of course it's alle— le:chic assent from the voice within. Why who else, I should like to h mw, has that compact little figure, that charming, turn of the head? But go down, I thought, and get close up to her, and very sosn settl , all this. The flavor of the clarinet got fearfull3 strong as I worked my way nearer to her, fur she was dancing close to the mu,le; but I persevered, and sat down upon a bench a few paces from her. Will it he lalieved that I was getting more confused about the ques tion of identity every moment? Will it be believed that, the dance aver, when I wenri up to the end of the room where the refresh- Inuits were served, when I sat down and drank my ginger -beer, and when she l'ame and sat down with her partner elo-e by me. and also drank ginger -beer, that 1 'vas st:li uncertain? Will it he belie ed, that when Ilea partner got up and left her, and when she had turnod to me and asked me, in a Hesitating manner and called me Sir, "if I did not intend to dance," that 1 had only got so far as to admit that it might be fitiotly and remotely possible that she might be Miss Denton's sister: Indeed, it was only when the young lady, hating now broken the ire, proceeded to inform me that she should be very happy to provide inc with a ticket for a ball which Elie was going to give at the rooms we were in on the follow ing Tuesday,—it was only when she lumded me the card in question, (hy glancing at which I learnt that I was in conversation with Miss Lisetta Swoope), that I began to ' • perceive that she was not, except in the fee ' blest degree, like Miss Fenton, and that 1 any one disposed to take the most charitable view of her personal appearance, would not be able to pronounce her more than nice looking. And now I found what a sagacious voice that was within me which had objected to Miss Lisetta (ruin the first, and protested against her, and that the protestsr who had continually said, "Don't be in a hurry— dan't espouse that opinion too hastily; keep your judgment cool, my boy," was as he always is, completely in the right. I attribute this delusion partly to a cm ,. tain tesemblance in heibht and figure which Miss Lisetta certainly bore to my unattain able beauty, but much snore to a pre-deter mination on my part that Miss Fenton was to be, and mast be, at the rooms that night. One thing, at any rate, I learnt from the professoress, (for such she turned out to he.) in return for my ticket; this was, that Mr. Fenton was extremely particular about his daughter, kept her wonderfully in the back ground, and seldom or never allowed her to appear at the rooms in Angel Street. "So much the better, - I thought: and in deed everything I heard about the young lade intaeasedmy admiration, and confirmed my resolution to pursue the adventure; but how the deuce was I to get at her: There was nothing left now kit what I had kept fur the ht-t resource. "S;:t in:: ate le,olci for a guinea," was at the foot of the pr,,feor's ailverti , onlontq. l'w:l4 a lare snm for a pour devil of a new.payr reporter: Lot I was determined to manage it !--inc how. The treacherous villain that I felt, and the arch impn , ter, when walking up to Prefesor F., I said, that I wished ,tn have some private lesson's in waltzing. if he could tell me nt what time it would suit him to in- , itiiate me! I knew pretty well what my en- , gagements would be next week, and man aged to detail them into the professor's or ra scheme was a simple one, but im mensely deep. I intended to appear cry stupid and ignorant in all matters connected with dancing, at first,—but suddenly, umber the professor's tuition, to improve; and hav ing thus gratified his vanity by showing what an able professor he waq, I proposed that at the last leoson or two there should he little left for Inc to Icarn, and that I should express my wish to practice with a partner. Then it was my hope that he would propose (seeing me to be a well-con ducted young man, and a pupil who did him credit) that I should have an hour de voted to revolving round the angel in Thom street—l mean the room in Angel street— with his daughter, who should come there for that purpose by his permission. I knew that this was not a wholly absurd hope, having onee before boon provided with a partner on a t•imilar oc.xision by it similar professor. "Well," you as , "t. "and this d , ,ne, are you any near, r your object? The lesson over, will not :kliss Fenton retire, and leave you where von were? It is a pretty you ad , l, "a 9 far as it goes. but it does not go far enough." To all which erossda4 an d offensive remarks, I nl, that human foresight doth IRA extend beyond a certain point: that I leave the rest to chance. and that, at least, in the event of my pnject suoceeding. I shall Pee her: and that see her I must, and IN ill. .11 V artfi.lnes , . in this ease. does me yeo man's son ice. lam at first ignorant, but of an inquiring and teach aide character. The p r ofo.sor shows me the step again and again I,,forc I can make anything out of it—twisting, himself round and round the room, with a kit in his hand, and looking (if he had not been Miss Fenton's papa) tine , mmonly like an ass. Then I twist my self around the room, with the kit, but also looking like an ass. She is not there to [WHOLE NUMBER, 1,477. e‘; :lir, so I don't care. I make plenty of mistakes at first and the profesoor is oven t little disposed to he irritable. In the -eeonil lesson, however, I improve, and them 'f't on so rapidly, that at the termination if the fourth interview, there seems really little left for me to learn, and, with a quick ened_pulse, I put in ore momentous remark about the immense advalitnge it would be in me. if I could hare a little practice with a partner. The Professor eyes me attentively fur some time. Perhaps he feels that in my state of proficiency, two more lessons would be a hollow mockery, unless with some new feature thrown into them. Perhaps he really wishes to perfectionate me. Perhaps —perhaps, it was to be. There is no end to conjecture,. All I know is, that after walking once up and once down the room, and looking out one of the windows a min ute or two, thoughtfully, while he played in an alcaracted can nor the coll ege hornpipe in a soil falsetto on the kit, he advanced towards rue and nearly drove use mad with jity by saying, that, although entirely op posed to his practice, he was so pleased with toy rapid progress, that he would, in this case. depart from his usual rule, and would allow his eldest daughter to be at the rooms in time fur my next lessen, and that he was happy to be able in this way to meet the views of a pupil w ho (with a bow) did hint so much credit. l'p all night at my work, and at the office. Not that that mattered much, for 1 should not lane slept a ti ink it' I had had the great lied of Witt c to sprawl upon. Still, the condition of my nerves was not what it might have been, and I found myself in an apprehensi‘e and excited state, picturing to myself all sorts of unpleasant things which 'night occur. Of these, what I dreaded most was, that Miss Fenton should recog nize in me the person who had followed her on the occasion that led to the great Barker failure. ' I was received by the kit, which was the only occupant of the room in Angel Street when 1 arrived there. The Professor was not long, however, in appearing, when de sultory conversation ensued, during which I contradicted myself, and distorted the English language, in a manner which, to a bystander, would have been a curious and iuteresting study. Mr. Fenton remarked that his daughter would join us in a few minutes. I was speechless, and paid a lisit to the shirt-button, threads much long er: button sportively loose and easy. The Professor hail just stated his opinion that the air felt very close that morning; and I had jest replied that I thought a button (I meant a storm) would clear the atmosphere, when the door opened, rind—Miss Fenton and I were in the sante room. 0, ,vpalth of charm in that delicious figure: su , tenanec for a life's affection in that pleasant face. 0, well-thosen subject for a pursuit more Lodged with difficulties thins-:rand fold than mine has been! 0, well-spent time, that has brought her before tee as she stands. if it 1, only for a minute's -pace! Nay—'ti., not so much. It does not take a tolnute scarcely, for this young holy to raise her eyes to mine, to recognize tie, and to leave the room. I rushed to the door. rind set my back rig:llmA it; for I was fearful lest her father should fellow her. I was desperate, feeling my last chance to have arrived. The agony I was in inspired me with a maniacal strength and eloquence, and I burst into a torrent of words which I could no more eon trot titan I could the falls of Niagara. Her father was before me, and I told him all. Told hint what the reader knows already,— and what more? This: that, though far from well off, or able to secure hisdaugh ter from the chances that the futuremight have in store, 1 had that to offer, which, as I be lieved, did surely entitle me, or any other man, to marry,—a profession by which, with strict but not painful economy, I should be able to maintain a wife, and which of fered, as most callings do, the means of rising higher to :men who choose to work and think. As long as health and strength should last—and I had no reason, humanly speaking, to doubt the continuance of both cauld give his daughter a home, and all things necessary to her happiness, and, above all, a mind made up to work for her, to protect her, and—O how ardently!—to love her. condoned by imploring, Mr. Fenton very urgently to consiler well my request; nut ir he found the inquiries about me, whiolt it was only right he should make, satisfactorily an , weren, to admit me ne nn neknowlelgen suitor for his daughter's ham]. I then gate him my address and ler: him. I met her on the stairs as I went nwny: but I only raised my hat as I passed her. though I longed to throw myself at her feet. W' hat rrtnirting Inv be briefly and happily toll. The ro , tilt of Mr. Fenton's researches into my history were SO far to his taste. that the entree of his house was not denied me. and the entree to Mr. renton'a Image was so far to my taste, that I WWI never, when I eould help it. out of it. And I am ~f opinion, that that acceleration of the wedding day which I so eagerly urged, was consented to the more readily by the family. from its being oltviously the only way to ;;et rid of rile IW - hat is the difference het mean a con firmed sinner and a beggnr? One is a mend i-cant, and, the other is a mend
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