her amazement as well as our own
when, in the course of three days, we had amassed for her
consideration and perusal no less than seventy-seven letters
directed to 'X.Y.Z.' What temptations were held forth in the
advertisement which elicited so many replies we never were made
acquainted with: Miss Jerningham counted the letters, tied them up,
and carried them off in triumph. Next day we received a handsome
present of some chimney-ornaments, with 'Miss Jerningham's regards
and best thanks;' but we saw no more of the Mysterious Lady for some
years. When we did meet again in a quiet country town, she had been
to America, and we had experienced vicissitude and bereavement. Our
altered mode of living made no difference to Miss Jerningham: she
accompanied us home, for we met in the market-place; but as it is
not so easy to keep one's place of abode secret in a small
gossipping community, for once in her life she made a virtue of
necessity, and openly divulged the fact of her locale, number and
all specified. She did not know a creature in the town or in the
suburbs--she came there for solitude. Conjecture was afloat in all
quarters as to who or what she could be. Some said she must be a
gentlewoman, because she wore velvet and satin, and gold
chains--moreover, paid well for everything. Others affirmed she
might be a gentlewoman--gentlewomen did queer things sometimes--but
there must be some very strange reason for a lone and unknown female
to drop from the skies, as it were, in the midst of strangers. For
our own part, our mind was easier on her account, now that she had
broken through her rule of secrecy; and we even hoped that when we
saw her again, she might go a step farther, and throw off the veil
entirely.

On calling at her lodgings, however, the next day, we learned that
the lodger had decamped, after placing in the landlady's hand the
solatium of another week's rent, as specified in the agreement--a
week's notice or a week's money. Thus, for the space of
five-and-twenty years, every now and then, did the Mysterious Lady
turn up. Whenever we left home on a visit, we were sure, on our
return, to find a card on the table, inscribed with the mystical
characters--'Miss Jerningham.' No message left, no address given.
The last time we ever saw her was in Hyde Park, walking arm-in-arm
with her brother the general; and soon after we heard from the
worthy veteran, that 'Bessie had gone on her travels again.'

If Miss Jerni