more expressive than his words—so gentle and quiet! No stage effect"

"But you quoted Shakespeare," insinuated a pretty piece of malice on the ottoman.

"I couldn't help it, if I did! I was surprised out of the use of ordinary language by an extraordinary occasion. If you are going to ridicule me, I shall be sorry I told you; for it is one of the pleasantest things that has happened to me in a great while! There was I, in my incognito-dress, as I call it, weary and pale, nothing about me to attract interest, I am sure! I wish such men were more common in this world, they would elevate the race!"

"I declare, cousin Maggie, you are growing enthusiastic! I haven't seen such beaming eyes and such a brilliant color for a long time! Was this most gallant knight of yours a young gentleman, may I ask?"

The lady thus questioned seemed to reflect a moment before she replied:

66 If you mean to inquire whether he was a whiskered, moustached élégant, not a bit of it! I should not have addressed such a man in the street. On the contrary, he was

"Married, I am afraid!" interrupted pretty mischief on the ottoman, giggling behind her next neighbor.

"I dare say he may have been," pursued the narrator, quietly. "No very young man, even if he had wished to be polite to a stranger neither young nor beautiful, which is very doubtful, would have exhi

bited the graceful self-possession and easy politeness of this gentleman:-he was, probably, going to his home in the upper part of the city after a businessday. As I remember his dress, though, of course, I had no thought about it at the time, it was the simple, unnoticeable attire of an American gentleman when engaged in business occupations-everything about him, as I recall his presence, was in keeping— unostentatious, quiet, appropriate! I shall long preserve his portrait in my picture-gallery of memory, and I am proud to believe that he is my own countryman!"

"Cousin Maggie always says," remarked one of her auditors," that Americans are the most truly polite men she has met

"Yes," returned the enthusiast, "though sometimes wanting in mere surface-polish

'Where e'er I roam, whatever lands I see,

My heart, untrammelled, fondly turns to'

my own dear, honored countrymen-more truly chivalrous, more truly just towards our sex, than the men of any other land! I never yet appealed to one of them for aid, for courtesy, as a woman, and as a woman should, in vain. And I never, scarcely, am so placed as to have occasion for kindness-real kindness without receiving it, unasked. The other day, for instance, caught in a sudden shower, I stood waiting for a stage, down town,' in Broadway. There was such a jam that I was afraid to try and get into one that stopped quite near the sidewalk.

A policeman, at that moment, asked me whether I wished to get in, and, holding my arm, stepped over the curb with me. 'I don't know what the ladies would do without the aid of your corps, sometimes, in these crowds,' said I.

"If the ladies will accept our services, we are proud, madam,' answered he.

"I am very glad to do so,' returned I; and well I might, for, at that instant, as I was on the point of setting my foot on the step of the omnibus, the horse attached to a cart next behind suddenly started forward, and left no space between his head and the door of the stage. I shrunk back, as you may imagine, and said I would walk, in spite of the rain. But the policeman encouraged me, and called out to the carman to fall back. At that instant, I observed a gentleman come out upon the step of the stage. With a single imperious gesture, and the sternest face, he drove back the horse, and springing into the omnibus, held the door open with one hand, and extended the other to me. To be sure, the policeman almost pinched my arm in two, in his effort to keep me safe, but I was, at last, seated with whole bones and a grateful heart, at the side of my brave, kind champion. As soon as I recovered breath, I was curious to see again the face whose expression had arrested my attention (of course, I did not wait for breath to thank him), and to note the external characteristics of a man who would impulsively render such service to a woman-like Charles Lamb(dear, gentle Charles Lamb!) holding his umbrella

over the head of a washerwoman, because she was a woman! Well, my friend was looking straight before him, apparently wholly unconscious of the existence of the trembling being he had so humanely befriended, with the most impenetrable face imaginable, and a sort of abstracted manner. Presently I desired to open the window behind me-still not quite recovered from my fright and flutter. Almost before my hand was on the glass, my courteous neighbor relieved me of my task. Again I rendered cordial thanks, and again, as soon as delicacy permitted, glanced furtively at the face beside me. Nothing to reward my scrutiny was there revealed; the same absorbed, fixed expression, the same seeming unconsciousness! But can you doubt that a noble, manly nature was veiled beneath that calm. face and quiet manner-a nature that would gleam out in an instant, should humanity prompt, or wrong excite? And I could tell you numberless such anecdotes-all illustrative of my favorite theory."

"So could we all," said another lady, "I have no doubt, if we only remembered them."

"I never forget anything of that kind," returned Margaret. "It is to me like a strain of fine music, acted poetry, if I may use such a phrase. Such incidents make, for me, the poetry of real life, indeed! They inspire in my heart,

"The still, sweet music of humanity.''

One magnificent moonlight night, while I was in Rome with your cousins and the W- -s, a party was formed to visit the Coliseum. That whimsical creature, Grace, whom I had more than once detected. in a disposition to fall behind the rest of the company, as we strolled slowly through the ruins, at length stole up to me, as I paused a little apart from the group, and twining her arm within mine, whispered softly:

"Do, dear Uncle Hal, come this way with me for a few moments!"

Yielding to the impulse she gave me, we were presently disengaged from our companions, and, leaning, as if by mutual agreement, against a pillar.

"What a luxury it is to be quiet!" exclaimed your cousin, with a sigh of relief. "How that little Miss B does chatter! Really it is profanation to think or speak of common things to-night, and here!" "Well, my fair Epicurean," returned I, "since

"Silence, like a poultice comes

To heal the blows of sound,'

you shall reward me for my indulgence in attending you, by repeating some of Byron's apropos lines, for me as we stand here".

"At your pleasure, dear uncle."

Presently she began, in a subdued tone, as if afraid of disturbing the dreams of another, or as if half listening while she spoke to the tread of those