but

It has not been in market so very long, to be sure; then it is considerably damaged by frequent exposal. I think one of his old "flames" used to say, "that no young lady of his acquaintance would ever die an 'old maid,' for want of having had, at least, one opportunity to inscribe Mrs. on her tomb-stone; though, no doubt, he and other gentlemen think they all deserve to do so, for having rejected him, simply because others had done so before them. But that isn't the fair way of stating the case; no gentleman likes to be made the pis aller among his compeers: then why should not a highminded, sensitive lady consider it a covert insult rather than a "compliment," (Heaven, save the mark!—I wonder what these men think they are?) for one of the bipeds to propose to her, after having made it obvious to herself and all her acquaintance that he would prefer half a dozen others, if they were to be had? However, this sort of reasoning will not serve your turn, should he chance to address you a year or two hence; so, if you happen to fancy him, (and, really, I see no reason why you might not,) do not be vexed if I say take him, for he would be certain to make a caro sposo of the first water; and you know he had never seen you when making love to your predecessors, a circumstance which makes all the difference imaginable.

Now, in place of all this nonsense, I dare say I might be much better employed in reading you a wise lecture on the inexpediency of going abroad into society before leaving school. And, indeed, I should cavil thereat, if you were not situated exactly as you are at home; first, because it creates the impression that you are several years older than you are; second, because it unsettles your mind for study; and, third, because (if the whole

truth must be told,) I don't fancy being seduced into so much egotism as I find I am by your allusions to past times and old associates. The last time I wrote Stanley, I had to forbid him "speaking me any more speeches;" but it's no use trying to stop a woman's tongue, (or pen,) so I merely forewarn you, that, when "the eye of a painter, the tongue of a poet, and the brain of a philosopher" happen to be located in the head of a woman, there is some little danger that the whole concern, ("the face of an angel" not excepted,) may be turned topsyturvy by such excessive compliments, coming, too, from such a source. If that doesn't suffice, I shall esteem it my "bounden duty" to apprise your honored papa, that, unless he keeps you at home next vacation, there is a remote possibility that you may, in time, become as great a gossip as any gentleman of his acquaintance. This may sound rather odd to people who hold to the old version and take it all for gospel; but you, I presume, have often admired the consummate tact and great generosity of "the lords paramount," in making over to us, the "better half" of creation, not only the exclusive merit of their own excessive talking, but also the entire renown of their extensive achievements in the tell-tale line; and, really, they do deserve great credit for their cleverness! Isn't it rare fun to see one of them pretend to rouse up from his book, nap, or newspaper, just long enough to say, "Do hush your foolish gossip," (how did he know it was gossip if he hadn't been listening?) and then relapse, looking quite as wise and a little more virtuous than ever; though he knows very well he has just absorbed the pith of the whole matter, and is now busy digesting and arranging it in a more available form. But "the cream of the

joke" is, to see old maids, and other old women, tricked out in borrowed plumes, as high-priestesses of Madam Rumor, when we all know they must derive their inspiration, directly or indirectly, from the husbands, sons, fathers and brothers of themselves or their acquaintance. I have been "takin' notes," mentally, on this subject, for years, "and, faith," I'd like "to prent 'em;" but it would never do, for there would be all the primum mobiles so incensed at finding the tables turned, and themselves detected and exposed, that they would contrive some way to make their aids and accomplices feel so highly insulted at being rated as mere "cats"-paws," after having been considered principals from time immemorial, that poor Truth would fain have to betake herself to her old well again, and there's no telling whether she ever would make another effort to emerge!

Should you find yourself rather annoyed and disgusted by this undisguised exhibition of innate hauteur, just thank your own foolish temerity for the infliction; and remember that your humble servant is more excusable for making Number One preside rather ostentatiously in her pages than you could possibly be, while residing among what are to both of us familiar scenes. So, in place of so much "foreign news," please oblige me with a little "domestic intelligence" in your next!

You will also please tender my best respects to your - excellent father, and accept for "Charlie" and yourself the assurance of my unabated interest in your welfare. Yours, in all sincerity,

LOUISE.

11

LETTER XIII.

ON THE DECEASE OF A FAVORITE BROTHER.

TO O. F. G. AND LADY.

MY RESPECTED FRIENDS:

B―e, Tenn., Aug. 25, 1836.

It is with great effort, though mournful pleasure, that I turn, at length, from the deepest gloom of self-communion, to commune awhile with those I believe willing to sympathize with me, though it be not in joy, but in grief!

You may have heard ere this, that the brother, for the furtherance of whose fortunes my sister and self were "strangers in a land not ours," is numbered no more among the living! But none can ever learn, save by bitter experience, how utterly desolate is the heart when its last bud of promise is withered-its last hope is blighted-when the solitary star is stricken from the horizon, how deep and hopeless is the darkness that ensues! When last I stood by the grave of a buried father, I vainly deemed that fate had done her worst-that come what would "the worst had fallen that could befall". vainly indeed, when at that very moment I was concentrating all the powers, and entwining all the affections of my nature around one, who was to me in place of all the social relations of life. But oh! we dreamed not of this! We thought of him, the noble, the talented, and the good, as the pride of his name, the ornainent of "earth's high places," not as the tenant of the lowly tomb! To him we looked for a completion of the brilliant profes

sional career, which closed so prematurely in our father's early grave. For this have we endured hardship and courted danger, self-denial, and toil, "counting" not even our lives "as dear unto ourselves," when weighed in the balance with aught that "could minister to his pleasure or his profit." And now, the clods of the valley press heavily down on his young bosom; but colder and heavier far on the hearts of the living! And oh, the bitter agony of his last hour of consciousness, its specter will haunt me to the grave! True, he died not "untended and unmourned;" but where was he? Far away from the friends of his youth and the home of his childhood, and where were they who should have stood by that bed of death and soothed the parting spirit? Far off on the distant paths of life, sacrificing ease, and health, and social intercourse, submitting cheerfully to care, privation, neglect, and indignity-closing the avenues of the heart to all affection that might beguile a thought from that shrine of the soul's deep idolatry, and counting it all honor and happiness thus to sacrifice and be sacrificed for him—and all for this, for this! Then, too, comes the maddening idea, that a knowledge of this absorbing interest in him was undoubtedly one cause of that “intense application" that accelerated his early doom.

One of his classmates writes: "The physicians think your brother's disease a 'hectic, terminating unexpectedly in a brain fever, incurred probably by too early and intense application to study, after a partial recovery from a severe attack of typhus.' He died June 10th, and was interred on the evening of the 12th."

His mortal remains may incorporate with the valley of the Connecticut; his memory there pass away with his