n Monday," replied Augusta.

"On Monday!--so soon! Oh, what shall I do without you, Augusta!" said
Angila, quite pathetically. "And you will be gone six months, you
think?"

"Yes, so papa says," replied the young lady. "He does not expect to be
able to return before May."

"Not before May! And its only November now!" said Angila, in prolonged
accents of grief. "How much may happen in that time!"

"Yes," returned her friend, gaily, "you may be engaged before that."

"Not much danger," replied Angila, laughing.

"But remember, I am to be bridemaid," continued Augusta.

"Certainly," said Angila, in the same tone, "I shall expect you from
New Orleans on purpose."

"And who will it be to, Angila," said Augusta.

"That's more than I can tell," replied Angila; "but somebody that's
very charming, I promise you."

"By the way, what is your _beau ideal_, Angila, I never heard you
say," continued Augusta.

"My _beau ideal_ is as shadowy and indistinct as one of Ossian's
heroes," replied Angila, laughing; "something very distinguished in
air and manners, with black eyes and hair, are the only points decided
on. For the rest, Augusta, I refer you to Futurity," she added, gayly.

"I wonder who you will marry!" said Augusta, with the sudden fervor of
a young lady on so interesting a topic.

"I don't know, only nobody that I have ever seen yet," replied Angila,
with animation.

"He must be handsome, I suppose," said Augusta.

"No," replied Angila, "I don't care for beauty. A man should have a
decided air of the gentleman, with an expression of talent, height,
and all that--but I don't care about what you call beauty."

"You are very moderate, indeed, in your requirements, my dear," said
her mother, laughing. "And pray, my love, what have you to offer this
_rara avis_ in return for such extraordinary charms."

"Love, mamma," replied the gay girl, smiling.

"And suppose, my dear," pursued her mother, "that your hero should set
as high an estimate upon himself as you do upon yourself. Your tall,
elegant, talented man, may expect a wife who has fortune, beauty and
talents, too."

Angila laughed. She was not vain, but she knew she was pretty, and she
was sufficiently of a belle to be satisfied with her own powers if she
could only meet with the man, so she said, playfully.

"Well, then, mamma, he won't be _my_ hero, that's all."

And no doubt she answered truly. The possession of such gifts are very
apt to vary in