for the young girl. She must either
see her elegantly bound up raven locks deprived of their confining
ribbon, and so fall in wild disorder, or she must obey the command
of the enemy, and sit quietly beside him. True, there was the third
course of becoming angry, and raising her head with dignified hauteur.
But this course had its objections--it would not do to quarrel with
her cousin and former playmate immediately upon his return; and again
the movement of the head, which we have indicated, would have been
attended by consequences exceedingly disastrous.

Therefore, as Ralph continued to draw toward him gently the scarlet
ribbon, with many smiles and admiring glances, Miss Fanny gradually
approached the seat, and finally sat down.

"There, sir!" she said, pouting, "I hope you are satisfied!"

"Perfectly; the fact is, my sweet Fanny, I never was anything else
_but_ satisfied with _you_! I always was fascinated with you."

"That's one of the things which you were taught at college, I
suppose."

"What?"

"Making pretty speeches."

"No, they didn't teach that, by Jove! Nothing but wretched Latin,
Greek and Mathematics--things, evidently, of far less importance than
the art you mention."

"Oh! of course."

"And the reason is plain. A gentleman never uses the one after he
leaves college, and lays them by with the crabbed books that
teach them; while the art of compliment is always useful and
agreeable--especially agreeable to young ladies of your exceedingly
juvenile age--is't not?"

"Very agreeable."

"I know it is; and when a woman descends to it, and flatters a
man--ah! my dear Fanny, there's no hope for him. I am a melancholy
instance."

"You!" laughed Fanny, who had regained her good-humor.

"Yes; you know Williamsburg has many other things to recommend it
besides the college."

"What things?"

"Pretty girls."

"Oh! indeed."

"Yes, and I assure you I did not neglect the opportunity of
prosecuting my favorite study--the female character. Don't interrupt
me--your character is no longer a study to me."

"I am very glad, sir."

"I made you out long ago--like the rest of your sex, you are, of
course, very nearly angelic, but still have your faults."

"Thank you, sir."

"All true--but about Williamsburg--I was, I say, a melancholy sample
of the effect produced by a kind and friendly speech from a lady.
Observe, that the said speech was perfectly commonplace, and sprung,
I'm sure, from the spea