ell-known voice
and step, but he easily engaged her in conversation; and when, at
Millinet's knock, she was rising to see who it was, he as easily
detained her by the assurance, that it was "nobody but her New York
sweetheart." Every thing favored the mischievous plans of the seaman:
Millinet never suspecting that any female but the mistress of the house
would presume to seat herself in the front parlor, and feeling moreover
the darkness and solitude of the room peculiarly favorable to courtship,
seated himself by the side of the supposed Mary, and immediately
commenced making love in pretty "rapid" style. Finding that the lady
answered only in monosyllables, and seemed more than usually affable, he
ventured to take her hand and gently squeeze it. He was at first
somewhat startled at the hardness and roughness of the palm, but soon
recollected that the country ladies in New England were in the habit of
milking their cows, making butter and cheese, &c., and said to himself,
"Never mind, when she is Mrs. Millinet her hard palms shall be well
rubbed with pumice-stone and milk of roses, till they are as soft as any
lady's in Broadway."

Enraptured by the gentle pressure with which the "black lily" returned
his amorous squeeze of her hand, he ventured to raise it to his lips,
and imprint a kiss upon the short, thick fingers. At this critical and
rapturous moment the door flew open, and the real Mary entered, bearing
a lighted glass mantel-lamp in each hand. With a profound curtesy she
placed her lamps upon the mantel-piece, and gravely asking pardon for
her intrusion, flew into the room which she had just left, and which
immediately echoed with her laughter, lively and joyous, but most
unfashionably loud, hearty, and prolonged. The sable _fair_ one made her
escape at the same time, and received from Kelson double what he had
promised her. Mary, however, as soon as she had recovered her gravity,
joined her new suitor, but all her hospitable attentions were lost upon
the discomfited Broadway merchant, who soon took his leave, overwhelmed
with shame and mortification, nor did he sufficiently recover himself to
renew his visits for two or three days. When he did again visit her
father's house, Mary, who thought the joke carried far enough, treated
him with more than usual attention, by way of apology for her untimely
and mortifying mirth, so that by the expiration of the week he had
entirely recovered his spirits, his self-conce