ot, which typifies
the union of hearts, which organs were also largely represented; this
exceptional delicacy would at any other time have claimed his special
notice. But his mother remarked that he paid little attention to these,
and his "No, I thank you," when it came to the preserved "damsels" as
some call them, carried a pang with it to the maternal bosom. The most
touching evidence of his unhappiness--whether intentional or the result
of accident was not evident--was a _broken heart_, which he left upon
his plate, the meaning of which was as plain as anything in the language
of flowers. His thoughts were gloomy during that day, running a good
deal on the more picturesque and impressive methods of bidding a
voluntary farewell to a world which had allured him with visions of
beauty only to snatch them from his impassioned gaze. His mother saw
something of this, and got from him a few disjointed words, which led
her to lock up the clothes-line and hide her late husband's razors,--an
affectionate, yet perhaps unnecessary precaution, for self-elimination
contemplated from this point of view by those who have the natural
outlet of verse to relieve them is rarely followed by a casualty. It may
rather be considered as implying a more than average chance for
longevity; as those who meditate an imposing finish naturally save
themselves for it, and are therefore careful of their health until the
time comes, and this is apt to be indefinitely postponed so long as
there is a poem to write or a proof to be corrected.

CHAPTER XX.

THE SECOND MEETING.

"Miss Eveleth requests the pleasure of Mr. Lindsay's company to meet a
few friends on the evening of the Feast of St. Ambrose, December 7th,
Wednesday.

"THE PARSONAGE, December 6th."

It was the luckiest thing in the world. They always made a little
festival of that evening at the Rev. Ambrose Eveleth's, in honor of his
canonized namesake, and because they liked to have a good time. It came
this year just at the right moment, for here was a distinguished
stranger visiting in the place. Oxbow Village seemed to be running over
with its one extra young man,--as may be seen sometimes in larger
villages, and even in cities of moderate dimensions.

Mr. William Murray Bradshaw had called on Clement the very day of his
arrival. He had already met the Deacon in the street, and asked some
questions about his transient boarder.

A very interesting young man, the Deacon said, much