rose before me. The evening was warm and soft, and gleaming in the
gorgeous moonlight lay that wild, weird ravine, and the ever downward,
foaming water-fall. Its musical utterings, the delicious moonlight,
and my own newly awakened and hitherto invulnerable heart, all
conspired to make me poetical and inspired, or at least to imagine
myself to be so; and pardon me if I gave utterance in verse to some of
my feelings. But do not in the least imagine that you are going by any
means to be presented with a fatiguing copy of my passionate numbers;
in the first place I am very diffident, and in the next--but never
mind the next, I will tell you in plain prose that I felt convinced in
my heart, I felt a rapturous presentiment that the unutterably lovely
being I had that day beheld would ere long be my own dear little wife,
forever and forever. An indistinct dream of having somewhere, at some
time before, known her haunted me and tormented me, but I racked my
brains in vain to recollect the spot or time, and finally came to the
conclusion that it had been in another state of existence we had met.

I had been home but a few days when business letters came, demanding
the presence of my father or myself in Philadelphia. My father
expressed a desire that I should go, and a certain internal prompting
urged me to comply with his request. The next morning bright and early
found me seated in the same stage-coach in which I had met her. The
due progress of steamboat and cars deposited me safely the day after
in the goodly city of Squareruledom.

The first leisure moment at my command, I paid my respects to the
family of my father's brother. I found my good uncle and aunt at home;
but my little pet Emily--their only child--whom I had last seen a rosy
romping little imp of twelve--was unfortunately out. My uncle urged me
very hard to make his house my home during my stay in Philadelphia;
but I had taken up my abode in the family of an old college chum of
mine, who had lately commenced the practice of the art of healing, and
who I knew would be none the worse from a little of my help in a
pecuniary way. I therefore declined my kind uncle's request, with a
promise to come and see them often.

Judge of my inexpressible joy when, turning a corner of a street,
after leaving my uncle's, who should I chance upon but the very being
of whom my brain and heart were full! Yes, there was the identical
she, and bless her dear little heart! she gave m