o the left of my
position--put another log on the fire, if you please, sir, for I cannot
see myself--I thought I was up near the figs, and I find myself down near
the half moon."

"It is past nine," said a servant entering the room; "shall I take the
carriage for Miss Kamworth, sir?" This being the first time the name of
the young lady was mentioned since my arrival, I felt somewhat anxious to
hear more of her, in which laudable desire I was not however to be
gratified, for the colonel, feeling considerably annoyed by the
interruption, dismissed the servant by saying--

"What do you mean, sirrah, by coming in at this moment; don't you see I
am preparing for the attack on the half moon? Mr. Lorrequer, I beg your
pardon for one moment, this fellow has completely put me out; and
besides, I perceive, you have eaten the flying artillery, and in fact, my
dear sir, I shall be obliged to lay down the position again."

With this praiseworthy interest the colonel proceeded to arrange the
"materiel" of our dessert in battle array, when the door was suddenly
thrown open, and a very handsome girl, in a most becoming demi toilette,
sprung into the room, and either not noticing, or not caring, that a
stranger was present, threw herself into the old gentleman's arms, with a
degree of empressement, exceedingly vexatious for any third and
unoccupied party to witness.

"Mary, my dear," said the colonel, completely forgetting Java and Fort
Cornelius at once, "you don't perceive I have a gentleman to introduce to
you, Mr. Lorrequer, my daughter, Miss Kamworth," here the young lady
courtesied somewhat stiffly, and I bowed reverently; and we all resumed
places. I now found out that Miss Kamworth had been spending the
preceding four or five days at a friend's in the neighbourhood; and had
preferred coming home somewhat unexpectedly, to waiting for her own
carriage.

My confessions, if recorded verbatim, from the notes of that four weeks'
sojourn, would only increase the already too prolix and uninteresting
details of this chapter in my life; I need only say, that without falling
in love with Mary Kamworth, I felt prodigiously disposed thereto; she was
extremely pretty; had a foot and ancle to swear by, the most silvery
toned voice I almost ever heard, and a certain witchery and archness of
manner that by its very tantalizing uncertainty continually provoked
attention, and by suggesting a difficulty in the road to success,
imparted a