f course, my peculiar pet. In truth, however,
she has been scarcely less the peculiar pet of father and mother,
brothers and sisters, friends and neighbors--sweet Annie Donaldson, as
all unite in calling her, and certainly a sweeter, fresher bud of beauty
never opened to the light than my name-child. And yet, reader, it may be
that could I faithfully stamp her portrait on my page, you would exclaim
at my taste, and declare there was no beauty in it. I will even
acknowledge that you may be right, and that there is nothing
artistically beautiful in the dark-gray eyes, the clear and healthy yet
not dazzlingly fair complexion, the straight though glossy dark-brown
hair, and the form, rounded and buoyant, but neither tall enough to be
dignified nor _petite_ enough to be fairy-like. But sure I am that you
could not know the spirit, gentle and playful yet lofty and earnest,
which looks out from her eyes and speaks in her clear, silvery tones and
graceful gestures, without feeling that Annie Donaldson is beautiful.
Nor am I alone in this opinion. My friend Mr. Arlington fully agrees
with me, as you would be convinced if you could see the admiring
expression with which he gazes on her. As this gentleman cannot plead
the Colonel's reason for any reserve respecting his place of residence,
I shall not hesitate to inform the reader that he is a young lawyer of
New-York, who has preserved, amidst much study and some business, the
natural taste necessary to the enjoyment of country scenes and country
sports. During those weeks of summer when New-York is deserted, alike by
the wearied man of business and the _ennuye_ idler, Mr. Arlington,
instead of rushing with the latter to the overcrowded hotels of Saratoga
and Newport, takes his gun and dog, his pencil and sketch-book, and with
an agreeable companion, or, if this may not be, some choice books, as a
resource against a rainy day, he goes to some wild spot--the wilder the
better--where he roves at will from point to point of interest and
beauty, and spends his time in reading, sketching, and--alas, for human
imperfection!--shooting. These vagrant habits first brought him into the
neighborhood of Donaldson Manor, and he had for two successive summers
hunted with the Colonel and sketched with the young ladies, when he was
invited to join their Christmas party in 18--. Here I was introduced to
him, and in a few days we were the best friends in the world.

Mr. Arlington's sketch-book, of w