hould a siren be, if not on rocks?"
Old Lothian's voice! He came with rod and line
To try an angler's luck. Behind him stepped
Charles, who stood still, as if arrested, when
He noticed Linda.

Then, as if relenting
In some resolve, he jumped from rock to rock
To where she leaned; and, greeting her, inquired:
"Have you been sketching?"--"No, for indolence
Is now my occupation."--"Here's a book;
May I not look at it?"--"You may."--"Is this
An album?"--"'Tis my sketch-book."--"Do you mean
These are your sketches, and original?"
"Ay, truly, mine; from nature every one."
"But here we have high art! No amateur
Could color flower like that."--"Ah! there you touch me;
For I'm no amateur in painting flowers,--
I get my living by it."--"I could praise
That sea-view also,--what a depth of sky!
That beach,--that schooner flying from a squall,--
If I'm a judge, here's something more than skill!"

Then the discourse slid off to woman's rights;
For Lothian held a newspaper which told
Of some convention, the report of which
Might raise a smile. One of the lady speakers,
It seems, would give her sex the privilege
Of taking the initiative in wooing,
If so disposed!

"Indeed, why not?" cried Linda.
"Indeed, you almost take my breath away
With your Why not, Miss Percival! Why not?"
"Yes, I repeat,--if so disposed, why not?
For why should woman any more than man
Play the dissembler, with so much at stake?
I know the ready taunt that here will rise:
'Already none too backward are our girls
In husband-seeking.' Seeking in what way?
Seeking by stratagem and management,--
Not by frank, honest means! What food for mirth
'Twould give to shallow men to see a woman
Court the relation, intertwined with all
Of purest happiness that she may crave,--
The ties of wife and mother! O, what pointing,
Sneering, and joking! And yet why should care
Thoughtful and pure and wisely provident,
That Nature's sacred prompting shall not fail,
Be one thing for a man, and quite another
For her, the woman? Why this flimsy mask?
This playing of a part, put on to suit,
Not the heart's need, but Fashion custom-bound?
Feigning we must be sought, and never seek?
Now, through these social hindrances and bars,
The bold, perhaps the intriguing, carry off
Prizes the true and modest ought to win.
And so we hear it coarsel