y's over the back of
the seat.

He was quite a youth, apparently not over twenty years of age; but there
was an expression in his eye which would lead one to believe him older.
It was an eye old in cunning, old in craft, and old in sin. It was
small, deep-set, and of piercing blackness. His hair was of a soft
chestnut, and curled slightly at the ends. His lips were thin, and his
complexion sallow. His dress, in every article, was of the finest
material, but arranged with a decidedly foppish taste; and, somehow or
other, his whole appearance reminded one of those large bills, stuck up
in depots, with "Beware of Pickpockets" on them.

Charley leaned back, after shaking hands with him, and whispered
something in his ear; then, nodding to Arthur, said:

"Mr. Pratt, I'll make you acquainted with Mr. Clinton. Mr. Clinton, Mr.
Pratt."

Arthur bowed, and accepted the hand cordially extended to him, and
politely expressed his pleasure at the acquaintance.

"Well, just consider me one of you from this hour," said Clinton,
rising, and turning his seat so that he might face his friends. "Just
confide to me your intentions for to-day, and you'll find I'm with you,
heart and hand."

Charley tipped a sly wink at him, unperceived by Arthur, and answered:

"We're only going to Carrolton, to stroll through the gardens; that's
all."

"Ah, yes; going to contemplate the beauties of nature. I understand.
Just so. Glad to hear it; for, of all things in the world, it's just
what will suit me best. Just consider me one of you."

Arthur eyed his new friend with considerable curiosity, as he let off
these little explosive sentences, and withdrew his eyes with an
unsatisfied look, as the other ceased speaking.

"He evidently," thought he, "wants to seem a gentleman, and don't know
how."

"Here we are!" cried Clinton, as the train stopped. "Now, my dear
friends, let's hasten to leave these clattering cars, where I scarcely
can breathe. Ah! you perceive this beautiful scenery has already
inspired me. I s'pose, Mr. Pratt, you didn't know I was a poet before,
did you?"

"I was certainly not previously aware of your poetical talents, Mr.
Clinton," returned Arthur, laughing, "but I shall never doubt it again."

"That's right, my boy. Like your candor. You're excusable for not
noticing before that I was a genius. It was no doubt merely because you
didn't look closely in my face. Any one can see it who does. There's the
pretty Miss Julia