early on the next morning. But the elegant foreigner had not
occupied his apartments during the night. He called a few hours
later, but he had not yet made his appearance; in the morning, but
De Courci was still away. On the next morning the following notice
appeared in one of the daily newspapers:--

"NIPPED IN THE BUD.--Fashionable people will remember a whiskered,
mustachioed fellow with a foreign accent, named De Courci, who has
been turning the heads of half the silly young girls in town for the
last two months. He permitted it to leak out, we believe, that he
was a French count, with immense estates near Paris, who had come to
this country in order to look for a wife. This was of course
believed, for there are people willing to credit the most improbable
stories in the world. Very soon a love affair came on, and he was
about running off with the silly daughter of a good substantial
citizen. By some means the father got wind of the matter, and
repaired to the appointed place of meeting just in time. He found De
Courci and a carriage in waiting. Without much ceremony, he laid
violent hands on the count, who thought it better to run than to
fight, and therefore fled ingloriously, just as the daughter arrived
on the ground. He has not been heard of since. We could write a
column by way of commentary upon this circumstance, but think that
the facts in the case speak so plainly for themselves, that not a
single remark is needed to give them force. We wish the lady joy at
her escape, for the count in disguise is no doubt a scheming villain
at heart."

Poor Arabella was dreadfully cut down when this notice met her eye.
It was a long time before she ventured into company again, and ever
after had a mortal aversion to mustaches and imperials. The count
never after made his appearance in Philadelphia.

The young man named Marston, who had jested with Abel Lee about the
loss of his lady-love, was seated in his room some ten minutes after
the sudden appearance of Mr. Jones at the place of meeting between
the lovers, when his door was thrown open, and in bounded De Courci,
hair and all! Cloak, hat, and hair were instantly thrown aside, and
a smooth, young, laughing face revealed itself from behind whiskers,
moustaches, imperials, and goatee.

"Where's the countess?" asked Marston, in a merry voice. "Did she
faint?"

"Dear knows. That sturdy old American father of hers got me by the
throat before I could say Jack Robinso