t some as hearty smacks as I remember to have heard.
The working of emotion in the face of the girl was a perfect study.
Confusion and shame came first; indignation followed; and, darting out
from among her companions, she dealt her robust young admirer such a
slap in the face, that it sounded like the report of a pocket-pistol.
The blow was well meant, and admirably administered. It left the mark of
every finger on the cheek of the sturdy little fellow. The lad clenched
his fist, seemed much disposed to retort in kind, and ended by telling
his beautiful antagonist that it was very fortunate for her she was not
a boy. But it was the face of the girl herself that drew my attention.
It was like a mirror which reflected every passing thought. When she
gave the blow, it was red with indignation. This feeling instantly gave
way to a kinder sentiment, and her colour softened to a flush of
surprise at the boldness of her own act. Then came a laugh, and a look
about her, as if to inquire if she had been very wrong; the whole
terminating in an expression of regret in the prettiest blue eyes in the
world, which might have satisfied any one that an offence occasioned by
her own sweet face was not unpardonable. The sweetness, the
ingenuousness, the spirit mingled with softness, exhibited in the
countenance of this girl, are, I think, all characteristic of the
English female countenance, when it has not been marble-ized by the
over-wrought polish of high breeding. Similar countenances occur in
America, though, I think, less frequently than here; and I believe them
to be quite peculiar to the Anglo-Saxon race. The workings of such a
countenance are like the play of lights and shades in a southern sky.

From the windows of the inn we had a very good view of a small
castellated dwelling that one of the King's architects had caused to be
erected for himself. The effect of gray towers seen over the tree-tops,
with glimpses of the lawn, visible through vistas in the copses, was
exceedingly pretty; though the indescribable influence of association
prevented us from paying that homage to turrets and walls of the
nineteenth, that we were ready so devotedly to pay to anything of the
thirteenth and fourteenth centuries.

We broke bread, for the first time in Europe, that evening, having made
an early and a hurried dinner on board the ship. The Isle of Wight is
celebrated for its butter, and yet we found it difficult to eat it! The
English, an