and seeking in vain for corresponding symptoms in Caroline's laughing countenance, she turned the conversation on subjects of that nature, for the purpose of drawing him out. By hints and innuendoes, she extorted from him the desired confession, and then assumed a look of innocent surprise. • ་ • Who could it have been?' she exclaimed. Such a strange proceeding!' 'If I could only discover the writer,' said Mr. Stites, with what was meant for a penetrating glance at his auditor, 'I would leave no means untried. The poetry was beautiful; and, poor thing! from her own account she had long suffered in silence!' Is it possible!' ejaculated the lady, in a voice of indignant astonishment. Is it possible, Mr. Stites, that you can bestow a second thought on such a bold, forward creature? Why the very words display an absence of all maidenly delicacy! She should have waited for you to declare your love before making that bold confession.' Mr. Stites was rather puzzled; she could not have written it, for she neither blushed nor looked conscious, but rather angry than otherwise. However, his self-satisfaction again came to his aid; and, although not the writer, she was evidently jealous. He therefore replied, with a becoming consciousness of his own merits: "I suppose she did wait as long as she could, and then she became desperate.' Caroline now certainly did blush; not from jealousy, as Mr. Stites supposed, but anger at hearing herself thus spoken of. She said nothing more on the subject, and the bewildered bachelor soon after took his leave, quite undecided whether to offer himself or not. A few evenings after he came again; his manner was evidently intended for something particularly soft and insinuating, and Caroline's bright eyes danced with mirth, as she saw how ill the attempt sat upon him. He fidgetted in his chair, changed his seat every five minutes, and followed her wherever she went. A few soft speeches insensibly slipt out, and every moment Caroline said to herself, 'now it's coming.' But it did not come- at least, not yet. Mr. Stites was fearful of irrevocably committing himself; he regarded himself as a prize set apart, for which spinsters of every degree were contending. He was afraid of being 'snapt up'-thrown away on some worthless candidate ; and determined to watch Miss Manby narrowly before asking the important question. Now Caroline, on the other hand, had no wish that he should come to the point. She was not a coquette, and, as her mind was already made up respecting him, she did not care to make an enemy of him, which she foresaw would certainly be the case, in the event of a refusal. While pondering these things over in her own mind, she hit upon a happy expedient, which she felt sure would drive all thoughts of love from the mind of the calculating suitor. Her mother had been a beautiful woman, and from earliest childhood Caroline regarded her with feelings little short of idolatry. One day, while gazing on her mother's charms, she inquired, Mamma, why do you not have your portrait painted? It would be so pretty!" 'I have no money to pay for it, Cari'. I must wait till I get rich, or till you are rich,' replied Mrs. Manby, scarcely heeding the meaning of her words, while gazing on the animated countenance before her. But Cari.' heeded their meaning, and treasured it well. She understood that her mother was too poor to have her portrait taken, and, with childish disinterestedness, resolved to hoard up the presents of money she often received from generous relations, until she obtained enough for her mother's picture. Tempting visions of confectionary and toys certainly danced before her mind; but adhering to her resolution, she carefully treasured every dollar. At the end of five years, she handed her mother a hundred and fifty dollars, with an earnest request that she would immediately have her portrait taken. Mrs. Manby had long since forgotten her remark, and gazed upon the lovely girl in surprise, while a tear glistened in her eye, at this proof of filial love. 'No, Cari.',' she replied, 'I will not have it taken now, dear. I am an old woman now, and it would be foolish to waste this money on the picture of a faded face. If taken at all, youth would have been the most proper season-not when I am old and wrinkled. As to the money, Cari.',' she continued, with a smile, we will place that at interest; it may be useful to you at some future time, and, meanwhile, Miss Caroline Manby will be reported as quite an heiress. Take care that you do not become the prey of some fortune-hunter.' 6 Caroline laughed merrily at the idea; but, although she begged, kissed, and entreated, her mother was inexorable, and the sum was placed with her father, at most unheard-of interest. Mrs. Manby could not resist telling of this incident of her daughter's disinterested affection, and the story spread rapidly. Every time it was repeated, the amount of Caroline's property became greater and greater, after the fashion of the three black crows,' and at length people dropped the original narrative altogether, and represented Miss Manby as an heiress in her own right-the favored niece of some deceased uncle, who in dying had invested her with all his worldly goods. Much merriment was excited in the little circle at home, by any mention of Cari.'s fortune,' and she now resolved to put the disinterestedness of her persevering suitor to the test. 6 Mr. Stites spoke of farming, hinted at its pleasures and comforts, expatiated on the beauty of a potato-field in full blossom, and displayed the elegance and refinement of his taste in remarking that flowers-garden flowers-were a complete humbug, and that he desired no lovelier specimens than the purple blossoms of that useful root. Caroline coincided with his opinions in the most amiable manner; took a hasty jump from potato-fields to houses and lands, and condemned the unlover-like selfishness which leads a man to take possession of his wife's property for his own especial use. Mr. Stites could not agree with her on this point, and looked upon her with a gathering shade of distrust in consequence of these sentiments. Miss Manby was again at a discount. One thing I am resolved on,' continued Caroline, warmly; 'I have always entertained the greatest horror of being married solely for my money. It must be a dreadful, a blighting thing,' said she, with a fine show of enthusiasm that entirely discomposed the common-place bachelor, 'to find in lieu of that pure undying love that lasts with life itself, a cold, heartless indifference; a spirit of calculation, that can see nothing to love but the paltry lucre that tempted it! If ever I marry, my property shall be all settled on myself; so arranged, that no man can touch a cent of it without my consent!' Her bright face suddenly changed from the sentimental to the mischievous, and she bent an inquiring glance on Mr. Stites. Unconscious of every thing save the dreadful announcement that was still ringing in his ears, that unhappy and persecuted bachelor had started from his chair, and now stood, handkerchief in hand, wiping the cold drops of perspiration from his brow. O, that imp of mischief! There he stood, overwhelmed, crushed, before her, and yet she could not resist a little teazing as a parting salute. 'More than this,' she continued, in a quiet tone; 'I do not intend to marry any one who is not very wealthy himself-quite a millionaire; and therefore it is but reasonable to expect him to settle a handsome sum on me- -the half of his property, at the very least.' Mr. Stites could bear no more; his powers of endurance had been tasked to their utmost extent; and forgetting love, etiquette and prudence, he seized his hat and hurried from the house, nor did he consider himself safe until he arrived at his own domicil, in a state of breathless terror. As to Caroline, she could no longer contain herself. Falling upon the sofa, she gave way to such a prolonged fit of merriment, that Aunt Sophia, who at this juncture entered the apartment, almost doubted the possession of her senses. When the laughing heroine at length gained breath to relate her story, her auditors were reduced to the same situation as herself. 'Cari.'s property!' shouted Ned Manby; that is too good! and settling it on herself! O, dear! Let me see- the interest of one hundred and fifty dollars per annum, at seven per cent.? Why, Sis., it would almost keep you in sewing-cotton!' But Cari.' still meditated revenge on her mercenary lover. She was well aware of his antipathy to widows, and resolved to assail him on this most tender point. St. Valentine's day drew near; and while others were occupied in the perusal of billets profusely ornamented with hearts, darts, and most unnatural-looking Cupids, being as broad as they were long, and by no means ethereal in appearance, Mr. Stites received to his great dismay a very prettily-folded, ladylike epistle, containing a regular business-like advertisement for a husband by a widow lady with eight charming 'responsibilities.' This poetical effusion proceeded in the same style of other advertisements, and was characterized by an explicit manner that showed the writer to be very much in earnest, and startled Mr. Stites out of the small degree of equanimity still left. The lady stated in rhyme that she had no objections to go in the country;' that is, if permitted to stay in the city from October till May. Now the paper, seal and all, exactly matched others in the possession of Miss Caroline Manby; and things, to say the least, certainly looked suspicious-very! As to the unfortunate bachelor, his fear and dread had now assumed a tangible shape; a resolute 'widder' was evidently in full pursuit; but when the eight responsibilities' rose up before him, he fairly groaned with horror. She seemed to him ever at his side, ready to pounce upon her prey; and forswearing matrimony, with an especial anathema for the benefit of 'widders,' Mr. Stites again absented himself from the village. Before his return we had a wedding, and a merry one it was too; for the bride was pretty Cari.' Manby, and the bridegroom the identical Harry,' the netting of whose purse had so annoyed Mr. Stites. It went off as all weddings do, and so to our great grief did the 'happy couple.' But in the interim back came our missing bachelor; and, alas! he came not alone! One Sunday morning, before the minister made his appearance, (I mention this particularly, for we never looked around afterward,) the church-door was pulled violently open, and up the aisle advanced a lady, followed at a respectful distance by Mr. Stites. There was rigid determination in the very air with which the bride (for so she was) flung open the pew-door, and having seated herself, composedly returned the stare of that surprised congregation. She was neither young nor handsome, and very termagantishlooking withal, and yet she was Mrs. Stites. Ere long it came out that the lady in question had been a widow ;-only think of it, a real, actual widow! and under her influence Mr. Stites seemed to be rapidly undergoing a taming process. We could not imagine how she had conquered his prejudices against 'widders,' particularly as she appeared to possess no balancing attraction; but to an inquiry hazarded on this point, Mr. Stites replied, despondingly, 'She would have me!' There was much more comprised in this short sentence than we were then aware of. Before long, reports reached us from the lady's native town; and one who knew her well remarked: 'Whatever Lyd. Warner set down her foot to do was done, and that the case of Mr. Stites was but a feeble illustration, insomuch as he believed that she could almost move a house from one place to another by the mere force of will.' She certainly was a very resolute-looking person. Having arrived at this point, we will now leave Mr. Stites, merely observing, in conclusion, that he was no longer the Mr. Stites of former days. EPIGRAM ON A POOR BUT VERY PROLIFIC AUTHOR. A MODERN novelist, compelled by need,' |