culty in reconciling paint-pots and silk gowns,
blue hats and statuary, French boots and Yankee notions. But order was
at length produced from chaos, and the young lady refreshed her weary
soul by painting large red M's all over the trunk to mark it for her
own.

Miss Lavinia packed and repacked four or five times, forgetting
needfuls, which, of course, were always at the very bottom. At the fifth
plunge into the depths her patience gave out, and with a vow to be a
slave no longer to her treacherous memory, she tumbled every thing in,
performed a solemn jig on the lid till it locked, then pasted large, but
illegible placards in every available spot, and rested from her labours
with every nerve in a throbbing condition.

Shawl-straps of the largest, strongest sort were next procured, and the
three bundles made up with much discussion and merriment.

Into Amanda's went a volume of Shakspeare of great size and weight, but
as indispensable as a tooth-brush to its owner; toilette-articles tied
up in a handkerchief, a few necessary garments, and much paper,--for
Amanda was inspired with poetic fire at unexpected moments, also had
five hundred bosom friends, in answering whose epistolary gushings much
stationery was consumed. A pistol, a massive crust of bread, and an oval
box containing all the dainty appliances for the culture, preservation,
and ornamentation of the finger-nails, made up her store.

Matilda's bundle consisted of sketch-books, a trifle of haberdashery, a
curling-stick that was always tumbling out at inopportune moments, yards
of blue ribbon, and a camp-stool strapped outside in company with a
Japanese umbrella, a gift from the stout doctor, destined to be cursed
in many languages by the unhappy beings into whose backs, eyes, and
stomachs it was poked before its wanderings ended.

Lavinia confined herself to a choice collection of bottles and
pill-boxes, fur boots, a grey cloud, and several French novels,--the
solace of wakeful nights. A scarlet army blanket, with U. S. in big
black letters on it, enveloped her travelling medicine-chest, and lent a
cheerful air to the sombre spinster, whose black attire and hoarse voice
made the _sobriquet_ of Raven most appropriate.

With these imposing bundles in one hand, little pouches slung over the
shoulder, plain travelling-suits, subdued hats, and resolute but benign
countenances, our three errant damsels set forth one bright June day, to
wander through France at