it their duty to stay within call of the court-house, from the moment of their arrival at the county-seat.

On one side of the square was a large country store, with a piazza in front. in which were placed for exhibition and sale, it being the haying season,—bundles of rakes and scythe-snaths, stacks of pitchforks, and a rack full of keen-looking scythes and cradle-blades. Two or three men in shirt-sleeves, blue-mixed cotton trowsers, and palm-leaf hats, with the brims turned up behind, were standing about the stoop, handling and examining these tools and chaffering with the clerk, who stood in the door bareheaded, his pen stuck behind his ear, the sleeves of his soiled linen sack turned up, and his hands besmeared with molasses and rum. A few lumber-box wagons encumbered the street in front of the store, the horses standing with drooping heads, thinking over the day's hard work in the hay field, or gnawing and cribbing at the hitchingposts, already half devoured.

Three or

four village dogs were prowling about, around and under the wagons, apparently asking the news from the rural districts of the farmers' curs, whose minds appeared to be distracted between a desire to be civil and sociable, and a sense of duty with respect to watching the runlets, jugs, codfish, and other contents of the wagons belonging to their respective

masters.

This store was also the village postoffice, and we paused here a few minutes, while the driver threw off the mail, and dismounted from the stage to carry in a heavy box of whetstones, which had kept company all the way from the city with the artist's tripod on the top of the coach. He tarried but a moment in the store, and as he came out, the fair lady-passenger beckoned to him. "Closer, Colonel;" I heard her say, and I came well nigh conceiving a mortal aversion to that gallant officer when he, putting his foot on the hub of the hind wheel, leant over the rim of it, pitched up the brim of his white hat, and approached his russet cheek so near the red lips of the fair lady, that he must have felt every expiration of her balmy breath, as she rapidly whispered something in his car. "Hum-hey ?-yesha-bo-well-'sho-you don't, though— what?-oh, yes-sartinly-jes so-of course-I see- "muttered the Colonel, at short intervals as he listened, the expression of his face meanwhile changing from a look of puzzled wonderment to one of pleased intelligence. "All right," he continued with an emphatic nod, leaning

off the wheel and brushing the dust of the contact from his coat. He then proceeded to roll down the back curtains. "I may as well hev 'em down now, and then they'll be down," said he, "unless you've some objections, ladies." He gave a sly look at the forward seat as he passed the side of the coach on his way to remount his box. The stage started off, and in a minute more we dashed up at a mad gallop in front of the piazza of the tavern. which stood upon another side of the square. The hostler started to open the coach door, but was somewhat rudely repulsed by the Colonel, who had hastily alighted and let down the steps. "Here you are, gentlemen," said the Colonel; "you all stop here, I expect."

The Judge bade the ladies "Good night," and got out first, followed by Cranston, who, intent on catching a last look at the brunette, as he paid his parting salutations, tripped on the steps and fell into the brawny arms of the negro hostler. The daguerreotype man succeeded Cranston, and forthwith concerned himself about the safety of his tripod and other apparatus. It was now my turn, and I prepared to make my exit. But, should I leave without once saying a word to the ladies? It couldn't be thought of "Ahem." said I, therefore, as I rose and prepared to descend the steps. "Good night, ladies; so you do not stop here?" "No, sir," replied the brunette. "I trust we may meet again," said I, looking at the fair lady whose voice I wished to hear addressing me. "Thank you, sir," responded the brunette promptly. "Good night, madam." "Good night, sir." "Good night, madam," I said again, bowing directly and pointedly at the fair lady, who then slightly bowed in return without speaking. "Good night, Lovel," said Cranston; "for I see you don't intend to stop here." I fancied I heard the brunette titter behind her veil. The Colonel. who stood by holding the door, grinned vehemently. I again said "Good night," and descended the steps; I fear, very sheepishly. The Colonel remounted his box and away went the stage, and its two veiled passengers, at a rattling pace down the street, over the brow of a little hill and out of sight.

At the time of the arrival of the stage the landlord was engaged in the barroom, administering a glass of spiritual consolation to a ragged colored gentleman of thirsty habits, but hearing the clatter of our coming, and espying through the window the exodus of Judge Walker himself from the stage, he cut his cus

tomer short in an extremely tough and long-winded story, with respect to the number of serpents destroyed at one massacre by the colored gentleman himself, in the neighborhood of his shanty, delightfully situated on the margin of Rattlesnake Swamp, and exhorted him to drink his liquor speedily, and stand out of the way.

66 Come, walk in gentlemen," cried the landlord, appearing on the stoop at last, and bowing to us all, but with especial courtesy to the Judge and Cranston; "walk in; supper will be ready right away."

We found the tavern crowded with country lawyers, jurymen, suitors and witnesses, assembled to attend the term of court which was to commence on the first day of the next week. The supper bell rung soon after we had completed our ablutions and brushings, and the motley throng poured into the long dining-room, pushing and struggling, each one striving to be foremost, as if his soul's salvation depended on getting a seat at the table before the others. The Judge, lawyers, and jurymen were, however, happily exempted from mingling in this hazardous rush, having been previously escorted through a side door and directed to seats at the upper end of a long table, and when the doors were opened to admit the multitude, there we sat, in dignity and silence, like the grave and stately Roman patricians, when Brennus and his hordes made their irruption into the Senate Chamber.

Heavens! what a famished people the Guildford county men seemed to be. Beef steaks, pork steaks, veal cutlets, and mutton chops; platters-full of ham and eggs; little mountains of smoking potatoes; huge piles of sliced bread, and cheese, and dried beef; and cold ham, and cold corned beef, stacks of doughnuts, and great heaps of blocks of ginger-bread, dried apple pies and green apple pies, rhubarb, huckleberry, blackberry, currant, and mince pies; all, all vanished, as if by magic, at the touch of the glittering knives and forks so fiercely brandished by the long double row of hungry men that lined the sides of the table. There were a half score of hot, perspiring, distracted-looking young men and maidens, hurrying and scurrying about in all directions, running afoul of each other and against the elbows of the guests, carrying off empty cups and saucers to a side table, where the fat landlord was sweating dreadfully behind two great urns of tea and coffee and then

starting back with cups full freighted and brimming, spilling part of the liquid contents by the way, and half the remainder as they set them hastily down and darted off to answer a new demand upon their services, deaf to entreaties for cream and sugar.

But where there is such great expedition used, much labor is performed in a brief space of time. Fifteen minutes after the ringing of the supper bell, the long table was deserted, except by the Judge and a few members of the bar, and half a dozen of country gentlemen, who had got seats near the head of the table, and lingered to hear the conversation of the lawyers, the anecdotes, and bantering, which style seemed to them the very soul of wit and humor.

After supper, we lighted our cigars, and the Judge, Cranston and myself, strolled out to the coolest end of the long front piazza, where it was shaded by a big button-wood and a grove of thorn locusts, in the garden near by, seated ourselves, and began to describe the events of the day.

"I wonder who those ladies could be?" said Cranston.

"The dark-eyed one particularly, I suppose," remarked the Judge; "and I suppose Lovel would give his ears to know the name and residence of the lady with blue eyes."

"Don't you know them, then, Judge? said I. "According to Cranston, if they're Guildford girls, you should be extremely intimate?

"Never saw them before, that I know of," replied the Judge.

"I tried to catch a sight of the corners of their pocket-handkerchiefs all the afternoon," said Cranston; "but it was of no use. However, there were the initials 'M. S.' on the end of one of the trunks in the boot."

"I say, Deacon," cried the Judge, addressing the landlord, who stood at a little distance, talking with the driver, "come here a moment. My young friends here are anxious to find out who those ladies were in the stage this afternoon; perhaps you can tell them."

"Gals in the stage, eh? Was they gals or wimmen?" inquired the Deacon. "Young women-girls," replied the Judge.

"Well, raly, Judge," said the landlord, wiping his bald head with a red bandanna, "when the stage driv up I was in the bar-room, a tendin' on a pesky nigger, as a'erwards cleared out without payin'. I wouldn't ha' cared ef the lazy skunk had ony turned tu, and helped us about ker

ryin the baggage in.-No, Judge, I didn't see a soul in the stage. I raly can't inform you. Why don't you ask the kurnel? Hello! look here, Kurnel! Step this way-the Judge wants to ask you who-"

"Hush! Deacon," said the Judge, hastily, in confusion at having our curiosity imputed to him before the crowd within hearing.

"Well, Judge, what is it?" inquired the smiling Colonel, advancing to where we were sitting.

"Come, do your own questioning, gentlemen," said Judge Walker.

"I'll ask for him," said Cranston. "My bashful young friend here," he continued, addressing the Colonel, and nodding at me. "seems somewhat curious to know who those ladies are that came out with ns in the stage this afternoon."

Well," replied the worthy driver, taking a straw that he had been chewing from his mouth, and, at the same time, giving me a short, sharp, merry glance from the corner of his shrewd, gray eye. Well, I s'pose I orter know, that's a fact; but I'm allfired forgetful about names; and there's so many folks I drive over the road, that I find I get a good deal confused about faces. Didn't you see 'em, Deacon?"

"No," replied the landlord, upon whose mind the defalcation of the colored gentleman seemed to have made a deep imprestion. "I was in the bar-room when the stage come up, a gettin' cheated by that everlastin', mean coot of a Jake Spicer, and you driv off a good deal quicker 'n common. It's raly strange you don't know 'em, Kurnel, I du say!"

"I dunno but 'tis," said the Colonel;" and I don't say but what I du know 'em, but a feller can't allus be expected to call folks by name that he actilly does know."

"Ef I ever du kitch him on the primises agin, by the life of Pharo! I'll take his black pelt right off," remarked the Deacon, evidently soliloquizing about the defaulting colored gentleman.

"Where did you leave them?" inquired the Judge.

"Jest down to the foot o' the hill a piece," replied the driver, "Hello! there's a feller I've got tu speak tu about some oats," he continued, starting suddenly off towards a farmer-like looking man that was passing by in a lumber box wagon, and following him around the corner.

Egad!" said Cranston, biting off the end of his cigar, and spitting it out spitefully, as the Deacon also turned away.

"I'd like to have that driver on the stand, under oath, a few minutes. If I wouldn't make him tell who those girls are, to their middle initials, there isn't any science in cross-questioning. He knows as well as the Lord that made 'em."

At this moment a lawyer of the county joined our group, and with the Judge and Cranston very soon fell into a discussion concerning the merits of a certain statute, recently passed, regulating a matter of practice. I soon grew tired of the learned debate, and, leaving my chair to another of my professional brethren, who came up to listen, I threw away my cigar, and sauntered into the house. I found the artist alone in the parlor, trying, in spite of the annoyance occasioned by two or three bedazzled and infatuated millers, to read, by the light of a flaring lamp, an odd volume of Josephus that he had picked up from the mantel-piece, where it usually lay, the companion of a dusty Bible and an odd volume of Rollin's Ancient History. It suddenly occurred to me that the artist had been in the stage before any of the rest of us, and might therefore know more of the ladies. At least, he may be able to tell where the stage took them up. "I'll ask him," thought I.

"It's very warm, sir," said I aloud, by way of opening the conversation, as I lounged into a rocking-chair, and commenced using a palm-caffan.

Remarkably," replied the artist. "It's what you call oppressive this evening." "I'll send for something refreshing," said I; "pray what do you prefer?"

"A brandy punch, now," suggested the artist, apparently gratified by iny sudden affability.

So I waylaid a chambermaid in the hall and sent to the bar for two punches. "We had a beautiful ride from the city

to-day, Mister I said I, coming back

into the parlor again.

"Fitzhoward," said the artist, supplying the name. "Yes," he continued," we had a remarkably pleasant time. I was really remarkably interested in your-ahistory."

"The presence of ladies always makes a journey agreeable," said I.

Remarkably," "returned the artist, "especially if the weather is pleasant; but if it rains, and you have to ride outside to give them room, it's remarkably tedious."

By the by, do you know who those ladies are that were in the stage to-day?" I asked carelessly.

"Then you didn't find out by the driver," said the artist, who, it seems, had

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."

-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 that time.

"I'll be hanged if I do go, though," thought I, bringing my fist down with violence on the window-sill - Cranston looked up.

"Have you found her out yet?" he asked, coming beneath the window, and speaking in a whisper.

I made no reply. "Hey?" said he.

"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.