pretty melting tones. Then,
after a moment's pause, "The vulgar man has not a word to say for
himself;" said she to me, in a low tone.

"Wait a little," replied I; "he'll improve. It is no doubt his modest
timidity that keeps his lips closed."

Margaret gave me a furious look.

"Heartless mocker!" she exclaimed.

Meanwhile Richards had got into conversation with Bowsends. The
unlucky dog, who did not know that his host was a violent Adams-ite,
and had lost a good five thousand dollars in bets and subscriptions
to influence the voices of the sovereign people at the recent
election, had fallen on the sore subject. He began by informing his
host that Old Hickory would shortly leave the Hermitage to assume his
duties as president.

"The blood-thirsty backwoodsman, half horse, half alligator"
interrupted Mr Bowsends.

"Costs you dear, his election," said Moreland laughing.

"Smokes out of a tobacco pipe like a vulgar German," ejaculated Mrs
Bowsends.

"Not so very vulgar for that," said blundering Moreland; "tobacco has
quite another taste out of a pipe."

I gave him a tremendous dig in the back with my elbow.

"Do you smoke out of a tobacco pipe, Mr Moreland?" enquired Margaret
in her flute-like tones.

Moreland stared; he had a vague idea that he had got himself into a
scrape, but his straightforward honesty prevented him from
prevaricating, and he blurted out--"Sometimes, miss."

I thought the sensitive creature would have swooned away at this
admission; and I had just laid my arm over the back of her chair to
support her, when Arthurine entered the room. She gave a quick glance
to me; it was too late to draw back my arm. She did not seem to
notice any thing, saluted the company gaily and easily, tripped up to
Moreland, wished him good evening--asked after his bets, his ships,
his old dog Tom--chattered, in short, full ten minutes in a breath.
Before Moreland knew what she was about, she had taken one of his
hands in both of hers. But they were old acquaintances, and he might
easily have been her grandfather. Meanwhile Margaret had somewhat
recovered from the shock.

"He smokes out of a pipe!" lisped she to Arthurine, in a tone of
melancholy resignation.

"Old Hickory is very popular in Pennsylvania," said Richards,
resuming the conversation that had been interrupted, and perfectly
unconscious, as Moreland would have said, of the shoals he was
sailing amongst. "A Bedford County farmer has just sent hi