, as it
were, carelessly across the instrument, while she herself gave way to a
free burst of merriment; and then, suddenly resuming the air, she chanted
forth the following words, with a spirit and effect I can convey no idea
of:--

"To live at home,
And never roam;
To pass his days in sighing;
To wear sad looks,
Read stupid books,
And look half dead or dying;
Not show his face,
Nor join the chase,
But dwell a hermit always:
Oh, Charley, dear!
To me 'tis clear,
You're not the man for Galway!"

"You're not the man for Galway!" repeated she once more, while she closed
the piano with a loud bang.

"And why not, my dear, why not the man for Galway?" said I, as, bursting
open the door, I sprang into the room.

"Oh, it's you, is it?--at last! So I've unearthed you, have I?"

With these words she burst into an immoderate fit of laughter; leaving me,
who intended to be the party giving the surprise, amazed, confused, and
speechless, in the middle of the floor.

[Illustration: BABY BLAKE.]

That my reader may sympathize a little in my distresses, let me present him
with the _tableau_ before me. Seated upon the piano-stool was a young-lady
of at most eighteen years: her face, had it not been for its expression of
exuberant drollery and malicious fun, would have been downright beautiful;
her eyes, of the deepest blue, and shaded by long lashes, instead of
indulging the character of pensive and thoughtful beauty for which Nature
destined them, sparkled with a most animated brightness; her nose,
which, rather short, was still beautifully proportioned, gave, with
her well-curled upper lip, a look of sauciness to the features quite
bewitching; her hair--that brilliant auburn we see in a _Carlo Dolci_--fell
in wild and massive curls upon her shoulders. Her costume was a dark-green
riding-habit, not of the newest in its fashion, and displaying more than
one rent in its careless folds; her hat, whip, and gloves lay on the floor
beside her, and her whole attitude and bearing indicated the most perfect
ease and carelessness.

"So you are caught--taken alive!" said she, as she pressed her hands upon
her sides in a fresh burst of laughter.

"By Jove! this is a surprise indeed!" said I. "And, pray, into whose fair
hands have I fallen a captive?" recovering myself a little, and assuming a
half air of gallantry.

"So you don't know me, don't you?"

"Upon my life I do not!"