at Tim--Timothy Jones, Esq.,
Mr. Reader--has ceased to have a proclivity for the "machine;" and
now-a-days, the City Hall alarm bell never disturbs his equanimity. Indeed,
he is so metamorphosed by time and a respectable tailor, that the gentle
reader stands in some danger of not recognizing him at all. Hence the
above formal introduction. Just notice the set of those cream-colored
pants, falling without a wrinkle over those mirror-like patent leathers,
and the graceful curve of that Shanghai over the hips! Just notice! And
more than all, that incipient _moustache_, which only the utmost
perseverance on the part of Tim and _Mr. Phalon_ has coaxed out into
mundane existence!

The writer of this veritable history has a great mind to drown Tim for his
impudence; but as that young gentleman has a good situation in a
Front-street commission-house, he refrains, for a capsize a mile from land
would considerably interfere with Young America's prospects.

IV.

CAPTAIN EDWARD WALTERS sits on the door-step of the old house; and through
a curtain of honeysuckle vines, which he draws aside, is watching the
fawn-like motions of

"A six years loss to Paradise!"

Is it little Bell come back again? It is very like her. Walters thinks so,
as the child runs from flower to flower like a golden-belted bee, and a
mist comes over his fine eyes, and he can scarcely see his grandchild for
tears.

His lips move, and perhaps he is saying: "Little Bell! Little Bell!"

And he thinks of the angel whom he left years ago, playing on the
_partarre_, in front of the gate. He hears her clear, crystal laugh, and
sees her golden ringlets floating among the flowers, and cannot tell if
they be curls or sunshine!

The child in the garden resembles the dead Bell as one white lily does
another. She has the same wavy tresses, shading the same dreamy eyes, with
their longing, languid expression. Her form has the _abandon_ of childhood,
with a certain shadow of dignity that is charming. She is very fragile and
spiritual; and it seems to us as if Heaven, in moulding the child, had
hesitated whether to make her an Angel or a Flower, and so gave her the
better parts of each!

Let us take one more look at her sweet young face--

"A thing of beauty is a joy forever!
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathi