s of every size; her arms
and bust were such as Phidias and Praxiteles might have copied; her
waist was slender; her hands and feet small and beautiful. I used
often to think it was a great pity that such a love as she was should
not be matched with some equally good specimen of our sex; and I had
long fixed on my friend Talbot as the person best adapted to command
this pretty little, tight, fast-sailing, well-rigged smack.

Unluckily, Clara, with all her charms, had one fault, and that, in
my eyes, was a very serious one. Clara did not love a sailor. The
soldiers she doated on. But Clara's predilections were not easily
overcome, and that which had once taken root grew up and flourished.
She fancied sailors were not well bred; that they thought too much of
themselves or their ships; and, in short, that they were as rough and
unpolished as they were conceited.

With such obstinate and long-rooted prejudices against all of our
profession, it proved no small share of merit in Talbot to overcome
them. But as Clara's love for the army was more general than
particular, Talbot had a vacant theatre to fight in. He began by
handing her to dinner, and with modest assurance seated himself by
her side. But so well was he aware of her failing, that he never once
alluded to our unfortunate element; on the contrary, he led her away
with every variety of topic which he found best suited to her taste:
so that she was at last compelled to acknowledge that he might be one
exception to her rule, and I took the liberty of hoping that I might
be another.

One day at dinner Talbot called me "Leander," which instantly
attracted the notice of the ladies, and an explanation was demanded;
but for a time it was evaded, and the subject changed. Emily, however,
joining together certain imperfect reports which had reached her ears,
through the kindness of "some friends of the family," began to suspect
a rival, and the next morning examined me so closely on the subject,
that fearing a disclosure from other quarters, I was compelled to make
a confession.

I told her the whole history of my acquaintance with Eugenia, of my
last interview, and of her mysterious departure. I did not even
omit the circumstance of her offering me money; but I concealed the
probability of her being a mother. I assured her that it was full
four years and a half since we had met; and that as she knew of my
engagement, it was unlikely we should ever meet again. "At any rat