ters after a methodical and approved fashion. And this may excuse me for giving two recipes for the successful obtaining of this pleasant excitementboth of which I have seen put into practice, and can conscientiously recommend. The first, which is rather limited in its application requiring no less of scenery and preparation than is found at a masked ball at the Grand Opera House, at Paris-may be stated thus:

Take as the first ingredient, a verdant American youth (a Bostonian is always to be preferred), who has plenty of money, a limited understanding, and an overweening sense of his own and his family's importance-Then select half a dozen of the most intelligent ladies of your acquaintance, who are to be instructed to repeat certain sentences in the English tongue relating to family failings and eccentricities, which are supposed by the house of Somptueux (of which our friend is a promising scion), to be its own private property,-but which nevertheless are the talk of the town.

Now take your newly-arrived countryman to the theatre, circus, or some place of public amusement, and, finally, by the merest accident, propose to look in upon the masked ball at the opera. Herehaving previously arranged matters with confederates you make some excuse for leaving him a few minutes-and slip quietly into a private box near by, whence you may peep between the curtains and enjoy the fun. Mr. Somptueux has begun to be oppressed with a realization of his own unimportance, in the presence of so many people of whose customs and language he knows almost nothing, and whom he of course presumes have precisely the same amount of information concerning him-when a gay little mask runs up and addresses him by his Christian name, and demands, half in French and half in English, the particulars of that little affair with Anna Skeusomai, and whether it was really true that one of the guests pocketed a miniature at her last party!

"How in the name of wonder !"—ejaculates poor S—, 66 can this French woman-but no!-of course she can'tsuch a peculiar name too!-what an extraordinary coincidence-I never would have believed it.

Monsieur, if you please," says a timid little voice on the other side, "I would entender ze end of ze story about Aunt Kottabos and ze confituriere. How

much was to pay, to say nothing of the naughty names she called!"

"Just heaven!" mutters poor Somptueux, staggering against the nearest box, "there can be no coincidence here. To think those unfortunate expressions that my poor Aunt Kottabos in a moment of justifiable indignation applied to the confectioner, and which were so handsomely paid for, that we felt sure nobody could have heard of them-to think that they should be the common talk of Paris."

The poor fellow has no time to prepare a reply, or to beg the lady not to mention it any further, before his arm is taken by another fair friend, who wishes to know how it was possible that Cousin Sophy could have caught Mr. Optimus after that scandalous flirtation with Herr Kewpidd of the Belgravian Musical Society. Another tells some little adventures after Grandmother Vinum's last dinner; while a fifth breathes a family secret most important and significantin short a disclosure that makes our moneyed aristocrat tremble for his gentility.

Well, the reader may imagine the course of horror, bewilderment, and blank dismay, to which our friend was treated he may also imagine (if he can) the satisfaction in assisting at the dispensation of such heroic practice.

And now for the second method of producing a salutary astonishment in the breast of a fellow creature-a method that was practised at Bearbrook with entire success, upon the occasion now under consideration.

Take a middle-aged or elderly gentleman of retired habits, refined tastes, and courtly manners-take, I say, some such pattern of a past school-and introduce him to a German. Of course you do not understand that the effect is to be produced by simply arming up some dweller by the Rhine, and repeating his name with that of the subject selected. A German in its fashionable and orthodox significance, means, not a man, but a dance a dance that the French call "the cotillon "-and which such Yankee gentleman as affect an exaggerated Parisianity, designate Lur Cotyeeyon. But, if (a contingency hardly to be imagined in an enlightened reader of Putnam) you should never have seen the diversion in question, and demand at my hands a description of the same, I shall really be puzzled what to say. The most contradictory epithets are constantly

applied to it. Dick Horripitts, in his sweetest manner, speaks of it as un rêve du bonheur des dieux; while old Mrs. Sockdolager screamed out to me the other evening that she could never see it without thinking of Furrelli's great picture, "The Last Ball in Babylon," that hangs in one of the palaces at Florence.

So, if you please, I will advance no particular opinion, but keep to my legitimate business, which is to report in a very humble way, the noticeable points in our evening festivity.

"Oh yes, I'm going to dance this new dance of yours," exclaimed my uncle in the innocence of his heart, "I've never seen it to be sure, so you'll have to instruct me at first, but I shall soon get it by a little attention."

"If you have really never seen the German cotillion," quietly remarked Mr. Barnard, "I should advise you to bestow the little attention as a spectator, before attempting to appear upon the floor."

"Perhaps you are right; though I remember getting through the Virginian Reel and the Basket Quadrille, when Kate introduced them last winter for the first time; but still if you will keep me in countenance we will take chairs at the other end of the room, and see how we like it."

So the major and his companion went to the other end of the room, and the music gave those long-drawn sighs of anguish elicited by the process of tuningand Dick Horripitts began to be very important, and bustle about, and marshal the company with a fan by way of truncheon and finally all things were ready, and off we went in good earnest.

The party that met round the dinnertable had received many important additions from the citizens and citoyennes of Bearbrook ;-and some very pretty additions, too, from the latter class-though, it must be confessed, that provincial dancing is not so good as provincial beauty.

My aunt, of course, led with Dick Horripitts and a pretty pair of dancers they were. How they steamed up and down that great room, followed by Bessie Wacklestead and myself, and afterwards by Wittlepipes and the eldest Miss Drachma, and then by everybody else, till the whole apartment seemed a sea of undulating heads. There was some spirit in the dancing that night, I can assure you. Ladies formed parties of threes, and went up and balanced to gentlemen, who quickly clasped them to

their hearts and swept wildly off. And then the gentlemen (not to be outdone) formed their parties of three, and fell upon such ladies as they could conveniently catch, and whirled them about, this way and that, till every curl acquired a distinct vibration. When the ribbons were produced, and everybody was mysteriously tied to somebody else, what fun it was to see the very tall lady dance off with the very short gentleman-looking tenderly upon the top of his head. And then to see the tall gentleman, who appeared to be sitting upon air, in painful effort to adapt his stature to that of the short lady. What sport, too, to observe the anguish written upon the countenances of those unpractised in the dance -you would have thought them engaged in the study of spherical trigonometry at the very least. Though perhaps, after all, you would have found more amusement in observing two or three gentlemen who didn't dance well-but thought they did. The smile of perfect satisfaction that rested upon their faces as they trotted about quite independently of their partners, and bumped pleasantly against their neighbors, revived one's faith in the original innocence of humanity. At last, we got to that part of the exhibition where the ladies arrange themselves on one side of the room, and the gentlemen on the other, and, at a given signal, rush into a grand embrace. And here is always a general change of partnersso that I found myself turning about Kate Wherrey at one end of the room, while Bessy and Horripitts polked upon my uncle's boots at the other. Then, quick as thought, we changed our positions, and were just charging violently at Mr. Barnard, when my aunt suddenly stopped, exclaiming that her shoe-string had broken, and another must be got to supply its place, so she tripped lightly out of the room, leaving me stranded hard by the bewildered major.

"Tom, Tom," gravely began my uncle (I confess the quiet sadness of his voice made me feel a little unpleasantly), "I never thought to see you concerned in such business as this. I never thought you could have permitted such an exhibition to take place under this roof. That picture that hangs opposite the mirror was my mother, and your grandmother, Tom;-it was in this very room she collected her family to hear the precepts of that pure teacher by whom I verily believe she is now accepted. How can I dare to pray that she may still be

near me, and hallow with the benediction of her presence this old house that she loved so well, when it has been disgraced by such Tom, I will not speak the words that rise to my lips, lest they should seem too harsh to you―to -to her-whom I have promised to respect and to love-but-I am grieved, Tom, I am sorely grieved.

I had been prepared for a little amazement on the part of my uncle, and had thought how I could rally him upon having had no such good thing in his younger days; but the simple dignity of his manner quite destroyed my purposed batteries, and threw me wholly upon the defensive.

“My dear sir,” said I, "you consider this matter far too seriously. It is only because the dance is new to you that you are so unfavorably impressed. Believe me, you, like all the rest of the world, would soon get over this squeamishness. Do you not see the three Miss Drachmas, daughters of the Rev. Doctor Drachma, whose sermon against the licentious rites of the Mormons you admired so much-why, they are the crack dancers of Bearbrook, and Miss Fanny has been pouting all the evening because Horripitts didn't ask her to lead.

"If this German had been invented twenty years ago," observed Mr. Barnard, "it would have spared me one sleepless night. I have not forgotten the evening when, after years of silent devotion-of anxious endeavor to render myself less unworthy the affection of a noble and modest woman-I was allowed the privilege accorded to none before --to none after—of holding a trembling hand in mine, of clasping a delicate waist, that seemed to shrink even from him whom the heart beneath had chosen. Oh! I well remember the night of happy, grateful wakefulness which I passed; but I don't think the thrill would have lasted quite so long, if I had seen the same familiarity permitted to every idle dissipated fellow who kept up such small modicum of worldly respectability as is necessary to gain admittance to a fashionable ball. No, no, sir, such a public rehearsal would have removed all feeling of especial favor from a more private performance."

"You are very unreasonable, sir," I exclaimed (I could talk to Barnard in a way that I should not have been willing to do to my uncle), "you are both unreasonable and unjust, to condemn those

very young ladies who, coming on to the stage, find this established outlet for the exuberant desire for life and motion that belongs to youth. For nature that would "cadence her joy of strength no more graceful manifestation is at present appointed. To repress all such impulse cannot be expected. Believe me, we shall do better than in searching after a moral alchemy to turn rose-buds and lilies into wall-flowers before their time."

"I condemn no one," replied Mr. Barnard, somewhat warmly, "but perhaps you will allow me to respect those ladies (of whom there are more than you seem to think) who are willing to give up the prestige of fashionable position, rather than submit to familiarities which nothing but an abominable custom can for a moment sanctify. I do not urge that it is against a young lady that she suffers herself to be whirled about in this Ge"man night after night; but this I do d clare, that (in view of all that is give up) it is something very strongly in any woman's favor that she does not."

"I agree with my friend Barnard," observed my uncle, "in being unwilling to speak harshly of young people who thoughtlessly fall into improprieties that are countenanced by those who should know better. But my charity is not sufficiently elastic to cover Doctor and Mrs. Drachma and the dozen fathers and mothers who lead our society in Bearbrook, whose word could at once put a stop to this indecorous exhibition, and introduce in its stead some of the old and unexceptionable dances in which all could join without sacrifice of self-respect."

You are quite right, major,," said Mr. B., "there are, in every society, some dozen or twenty matrons, at whose command the waves of any fashionable frivolity could at once be stayed. And these -by refusing to allow their daughters to join in what offends the taste and judgment of many people whose feelings deserve respect-could effectually banish this degrading exhibition to places where it properly belongs."

What more was said on this disputed topic I did not hear, for Bessie Wacklestead (just at this point) ran up to take me out. So out I went, and was soon rebaptized into the fellowship of the German;-yet I confess with an abatement of my former spirit. There was a something that grated against my feelings when I saw Kate again embraced by Horripitts who, although he can lead

a German, is a man whose morals and habits are notoriously bad. And although I did not so much object to tenderly pilot the fair Bessie about the room-yet when I was obliged to resign my place to Ned Hurcus, something like an expostulation rose to my lips.

Well, a German does not last for ever (although the worthy papas, who are obliged to sit it out, might not agree with this proposition) and ours was pleasantly interrupted by the arrival of the huge bowl of cranberry punch that was always brewed in honor of the occasion, and which gave an agreeable diversion to the thoughts and conversation of the party.

no

For, if any human weakness clung to gentlemen of such violent virtue as Mr. Barnard and my uncle, I believe it lay in the direction of punch. And this fascinating monosyllable, as defined by the authorities of Bearbrook, meant weak mixture, two-sixths sherry, sugar, and lemon, and four-sixths water-but a compound of which good honest rum -and enough of it, too-was the basis; from which arose satisfactory layers of port, cordial, and Bordeaux-with just a touch of gin to give it a flavor, and a few cranberries, floating upon the top, to give it a name.

The major and Mr. Barnard were provided with two soup-ladles, by means of which instruments they dispensed the refreshing beverage to the company. The continual demand, however, that was made upon their attention, left little opportunity for a personal indulgenceuntil Barnard (who was something of a scholar) providentially recollected that the class of men existing in classical times, known as dispensatores vini adusti saccharo aqua et limoniis—whose duties seem to have been very similar to those of the punch-helpers of our own day-were solemnly commanded to drink with every individual who required their services. This excellent and laudable custom the major and his friend declared should not become obsolete through the culpable neglect of the modern representatives of so honorable a body; and I am bound to say that the ghost of the most rigid dispensator" could have tipped out no censure to his scrupulous successors.

66

After we all had drank enough to experience that pleasant glow that cranberries, taken in this peculiar form, never fail to impart to the human system-some one proposed a moonlight

walk in the long avenue before the house. The suggestion was considered most happy; and the ladies ran off to get their bonnets and shawls, and the gentlemen groped under the great sofas in the entry in search of their coats and hats-and soon everybody was ready to set forth.

Everybody, except the distinguished individuals who had so ably discharged the honors of the punch, for, just as all were about to start, the question suddenly occurred to the classic brain of Mr. Barnard, whether the ancient dispensatores were not required to drink up such portions of the vinum adustum as was unconsumed by the company. My uncle at once decided that, if there was any doubt on the point, it would be highly improper to peril the perfect observance of the ritual, by an omission so serious. Accordingly, the two gentlemen resumed their places at the table --charged their glasses heavily from the great bowl between them-and thus we left them behind us.

And, now, my account of this little party is over. It was far brighter and heartier in reality than I have the skill to make it upon paper-and perhaps far brighter to me, than it would have been to the reader. For my own days of merriment are very few, and on that account this simple country meeting (although it takes place in October) seems a very carnival. And I take quito as much pleasure in it, as you find at your great dinners in the Fifth Avenue, or at the wax-lighted japonica-hung chambers of your costly festivities.

How fairly shone the glorious moon that night on the rich dress of autumn! The curled leaves cracked beneath our feet, as Kate and I left the main party, and walked beneath the mighty pines which skirt the river's side. And now,

I feel what an innovation I countenance in hinting that a nephew could presume to advise his aunt. But, if you had had an aunt of the years, and in the position, of Kate Wherrey, I believe you would have done as I did.

And what I did do was to remind the impulsive young creature who hung upon my arm, of the respect she owed to the opinions, and even to the prejudices, of the man whom she had taken for better and for worse. Then, I told her how shocked my uncle had been with her favorite German-and what Mr. Barnard had said about it-and how my own sense of propriety forced me to

agree with them, almost against my

will.

"My dear Tom," replied my aunt, and her fair, dark eyes were moistened as she spoke, "I believe I have been very thoughtless-that my conduct is attributable to nothing worse, I am sure you will not doubt. I have been left too much to myself, and have thought less than I should of the pleasure and convenience of others. While I am mistress at Bearbrook, the major and his really excellent friend shall never be shocked by a repetition of the frolic of to-night; and, Tom, will not you, who are the only friend of my own age to whose judgment I can appeal-will you not tell me when you think me wrong? and believe that I wish, and try, to do what is right."

Those who saw the cheerful and pretty ways with which my aunt presided at the dinner-table, or the lightness and seductive grace with which she swept through the waltz, must have admired her-but, if any one had stood beside us that night, and had heard all

the real feeling and womanly tenderness that poured from a heart ordinarily absorbed in the trivialities of the passing hour, he would have loved her as I did, and do.

It was some time before we returned to the house; and, finally, as we passed along the plank walk, that passed over the marshes where the cranberries grew -not a word was spoken. The moon not only clad familiar objects with unearthly garments, but sent fantastic shadows to wander in the solemn chambers of the mind.

"I know not why we have been silent so long," said Kate, as we entered the porch, "but I have been dreaming over impossibilities-strange and wild ones too-I know it is very foolish; but it is a way of mine, and I cannot help it."

IN

CHAPTER I.

the northeast corner of the hilly county of Windham, in the steady old State of Connecticut, there lies a quiet valley of some three or four miles in length, with a breadth varying from a furlong to a mile. The Niptuck river, of yore a noisy, brawling brook, abounding in rapids and cascades-but which of late has been tamed, and set busily at work, spinning and weaving like a thrifty old-time housewife-no sooner overleaps the last mill-dam that obstructs its course, and hurries swiftly through the narrow gorge in which the northern end of the valley terminates, than it suddenly subsides into quiet, and becomes one of the most peaceful and well-behaved streams in the whole world; thenceforth, flowing smoothly along, over a bed of white sand and pebbles, through level, green meadows, and between low, sloping banks, fringed with drooping wil

lows, with a current so gentle as to be hardly perceptible. For a space, upon the widening surface of the shallow tide, float bubbles and foam-flakes from the rapids above, but as the stream expands, and its current grows more languid, these relics of precedent agitation disappear, and in still, hot midsummer noons, when the faint breezes that fan the hill-tops are unfelt in the valleys between, the Niptuck sleeps in its quiet, shady bed, without a ripple upon its placid bosom, as though it were a-weary with its toils among the water-wheels and mill-dams further up the stream.

The range of hills that form the western limits of the valley presents a bold front of precipitous cliffs, hidden for half the year by the plumy blossoms, and dark green foliage of the chestnut woods, that grow among the ledges; but the acclivity of the eastern hills is a gentle slope of fertile land, divided by intersecting walls and fences, into fields and mead