“Come, these are no times to think of dreams ­
  We’ll talk of dreams hereafter.”

  SHAKSPEARE.

The day succeeding that in which the conversation just mentioned occurred, was one of great expectation and delight in the Wigwam.  Mrs. Hawker and the Bloomfields were expected, and the morning passed away rapidly, under the gay buoyancy of the feelings that usually accompany such anticipations in a country-house.  The travellers were to leave town the previous evening, and, though the distance was near two hundred and thirty miles, they were engaged to arrive by the usual dinner hour.  In speed, the Americans, so long as they follow the great routes, are unsurpassed; and even Sir George Templemore, coming, as he did, from a country of MacAdamized roads and excellent posting, expressed his surprise, when given to understand that a journey of this length, near a hundred miles of which were by land, moreover, was to be performed in twenty-four hours, the stops included.

“One particularly likes this rapid travelling,” he remarked, “when it is to bring us such friends as Mrs. Hawker.”

“And Mrs. Bloomfield,” added Eve, quickly.  “I rest the credit of the American females on Mrs. Bloomfield.”

“More so, than on Mrs. Hawker, Miss Effingham.”

“Not in all that is amiable, respectable, feminine, and lady-like; but certainly more so, in the way of mind.  I know, Sir George Templemore, as a European, what your opinion is of our sex in this country.”

“Good heaven, my dear Miss Effingham! ­My opinion of your sex, in America!  It is impossible for any one to entertain a higher opinion of your country-women ­as I hope to show ­as, I trust, my respect and admiration have always proved ­nay, Powis, you, as an American, will exonerate me from this want of taste ­judgment ­feeling ­”

Paul laughed, but told the embarrassed and really distressed baronet, that he should leave him in the very excellent hands into which he had fallen.

“You see that bird, that is sailing so prettily above the roofs of the village,” said Eve, pointing with her parasol in the direction she meant; for the three were walking together on the little lawn, in waiting for the appearance of the expected guests; “and I dare say you are ornithologist enough to tell its vulgar name.”

“You are in the humour to be severe this morning ­the bird is but a common swallow.”

“One of which will not make a summer, as every one knows.  Our cosmopolitism is already forgotten, and with it, I fear, our frankness.”

“Since Powis has hoisted his national colours, I do not feel as free on such subjects as formerly,” returned Sir George, smiling.  “When I thought I had a secret ally in him, I was not afraid to concede a little in such things, but his avowal of his country has put me on my guard.  In no case, however, shall I admit my insensibility to the qualities of your countrywomen.  Powis, as a native, may take that liberty; but, as for myself, I shall insist they are, at least, the equals of any females I know.”

“In naïveté, prettiness, delicacy of appearance, simplicity, and sincerity ­”

“In sincerity, think you, dear Miss Effingham?”

“In sincerity, above all things, dear Sir George Templemore.  Sincerity ­nay, frankness is the last quality I should think of denying them.”

“But to return to Mrs. Bloomfield ­she is clever, exceedingly clever, I allow; in what is her cleverness to be distinguished from that of one of her sex, on the other side of the ocean?”

“In nothing, perhaps, did there exist no differences in national characteristics.  Naples and New-York are in the same latitude, and yet, I think you will agree with me, that there is little resemblance in their populations.”

“I confess I do not understand the allusion ­are you quicker witted, Powis?”

“I will not say that,” answered Paul; “but I think I do comprehend Miss Effingham’s meaning.  You have travelled enough to know, that, as a rule, there is more aptitude in a southern, than in a northern people.  They receive impressions more readily, and are quicker in all their perceptions.”

“I believe this to be true; but, then, you will allow that they are less constant, and have less perseverance?”

“In that we are agreed, Sir George Templemore,” resumed Eve, “though we might differ as to the cause.  The inconstancy of which you speak, is more connected with moral than physical causes, perhaps, and we, of this region, might claim an exemption from some of them.  But, Mrs. Bloomfield is to be distinguished from her European rivals, by a frame so singularly feminine as to appear fragile, a delicacy of exterior, that, were it not for that illumined face of hers, might indicate a general feebleness, a sensitiveness and quickness of intellect that amount almost to inspiration; and yet all is balanced by a practical common sense, that renders her as safe a counsellor as she is a warm friend.  This latter quality causes you sometimes to doubt her genius, it is so very homely and available.  Now it is in this, that I think the American woman, when she does rise above mediocrity, is particularly to be distinguished from the European.  The latter, as a genius, is almost always in the clouds, whereas, Mrs. Bloomfield, in her highest flights, is either all heart, or all good sense.  The nation is practical, and the practical qualities get to be imparted even to its highest order of talents.”

“The English women are thought to be less excitable, and not so much under the influence of sentimentalism, as some of their continental neighbours.”

“And very justly ­but ­”

“But, what, Miss Effingham ­there is, in all this, a slight return to the cosmopolitism, that reminds me of our days of peril and adventure.  Do not conceal a thought, if you wish to preserve that character.”

“Well, to be sincere, I shall say that your women live under a system too sophisticated and factitious to give fair play to common sense, at all times.  What, for instance, can be the habitual notions of one, who, professing the doctrines of Christianity, is accustomed to find money placed so very much in the ascendant, as to see it daily exacted in payment for the very first of the sacred offices of the church?  It would be as rational to contend that a mirror which had been cracked into radii, by a bullet, like those we have so often seen in Paris, would reflect faithfully, as to suppose a mind familiarized to such abuses would be sensitive on practical and common sense things.”

“But, my dear Miss Effingham, this is all habit.”

“I know it is all habit, Sir George Templemore, and a very bad habit it is.  Even your devoutest clergymen get so accustomed to it, as not to see the capital mistake they make.  I do not say it is absolutely sinful, where there is no compulsion; but, I hope you agree with me, Mr. Powis, when I say I think a clergyman ought to be so sensitive on such a subject, as to refuse even the little offerings for baptisms, that it is the practice of the wealthy of this country to make.”

“I agree with you entirely, for it would denote a more just perception of the nature of the office they are performing; and they who wish to give can always make occasions.”

“A hint might be taken from Franklin, who is said to have desired his father to ask a blessing on the pork-barrel, by way of condensation,” put in John Effingham, who joined them as he spoke, and who had heard a part of the conversation.  “In this instance an average might be struck in the marriage fee, that should embrace all future baptisms.  But here comes neighbour Howel to favour us with his opinion.  Do you like the usages of the English church, as respects baptisms, Howel?”

“Excellent, the best in the world, John Effingham.”

“Mr. Howel is so true an Englishman,” said Eve, shaking hands cordially with their well-meaning neighbour, “that he would give a certificate in favour of polygamy, if it had a British origin.”

“And is not this a more natural sentiment for an American than that which distrusts so much, merely because it comes from the little island?” asked Sir George, reproachfully.

“That is a question I shall leave Mr. Howel himself to answer.”

“Why, Sir George,” observed the gentleman alluded to, “I do not attribute my respect for your country, in the least, to origin.  I endeavour to keep myself free from all sorts of prejudices.  My admiration of England arises from conviction, and I watch all her movements with the utmost jealousy, in order to see if I cannot find her tripping, though I feel bound to say I have never yet detected her in a single error.  What a very different picture, France ­I hope your governess is not within hearing, Miss Eve; it is not her fault; she was born a French woman, and we would not wish to hurt her feelings ­but what a different picture France presents!  I have watched her narrowly too, these forty years, I may say, and I have never yet found her right; and this, you must allow, is a great deal to be said by one who is thoroughly impartial.”

“This is a terrible picture, indeed, Howel, to come from an unprejudiced man,” said John Effingham; “and I make no doubt Sir George Templemore will have a better opinion of himself for ever after ­he for a valiant lion, and you for a true prince.  But yonder is the ‘exclusive extra,’ which contains our party.”

The elevated bit of lawn on which they were walking commanded a view of the road that led into the village, and the travelling, vehicle engaged by Mrs. Hawker and her friends, was now seen moving along it at a rapid pace.  Eve expressed her satisfaction, and then all resumed their walk, as some minutes must still elapse previously to the arrival.

“Exclusive extra!” repeated Sir George; “that is a peculiar phrase, and one that denotes any thing but democracy.”

“In any other part of the world a thing would be sufficiently marked, by being ‘extra,’ but here it requires the addition of ‘exclusive,’ in order to give it the ‘tower stamp,’” said John Effingham, with a curl of his handsome lip.  “Any thing may be as exclusive as it please, provided it bear the public impress.  A stagecoach being intended for every body, why, the more exclusive it is, the better.  The next thing we shall hear of will be exclusive steamboats, exclusive railroads, and both for the uses of the exclusive people.”

Sir George now seriously asked an explanation of the meaning of the term, when Mr. Howel informed him that an ‘extra’ in America meant a supernumerary coach, to carry any excess of the ordinary number of passengers; whereas an ‘exclusive extra’ meant a coach expressly engaged by a particular individual.

“The latter, then, is American posting,” observed Sir George.

“You have got the best idea of it that can be given,” said Paul.  “It is virtually posting with a coachman, instead of postillions, few persons in this country, where so much of the greater distances is done by steam, using their own travelling carriages.  The American ‘exclusive extra’ is not only posting, but, in many of the older parts of the country, it is posting of a very good quality.”

“I dare say, now, this is all wrong, if we only knew it,” said the simple-minded Mr. Howel.  “There is nothing exclusive in England, ha, Sir George?”

Every body laughed except the person who put this question, but the rattling of wheels and the tramping of horses on the village bridge, announced the near approach of the travellers.  By the time the party had reached the great door in front of the house, the carriage was already in the grounds, and at the next moment, Eve was in the arms of Mrs. Bloomfield.  It was apparent, at a glance, that more than the expected number of guests was in the vehicle; and as its contents were slowly discharged, the spectators stood around it, with curiosity, to observe who would appear.

The first person that descended, after the exit of Mrs. Bloomfield, was Captain Truck, who, however, instead of saluting his friends, turned assiduously to the door he had just passed through, to assist Mrs. Hawker to alight.  Not until this office had been done, did he even look for Eve; for, so profound was the worthy captain’s admiration and respect for this venerable lady, that she actually had got to supplant our heroine, in some measure, in his heart.  Mr. Bloomfield appeared next, and an exclamation of surprise and pleasure proceeded from both Paul and the baronet, as they caught a glimpse of the face of the last of the travellers that got out.

“Ducie!” cried Sir George.  “This is even better than we expected.”

“Ducie!” added Paul, “you are several days before the expected time, and in excellent company.”

The explanation, however, was very simple Captain Ducie had found the facilities for rapid motion much greater than he had expected, and he reached Fort Plain, in the eastward cars, as the remainder of the party arrived in the westward.  Captain Truck-who had met Mrs. Hawker’s party in the river boat, had been intrusted with the duty of making the arrangements, and recognizing Captain Ducie, to their mutual surprise, while engaged in this employment, and ascertaining his destination, the latter was very cordially received into the “exclusive extra.”

Mr. Effingham welcomed all his guests with the hospitality and kindness for which he was distinguished.  We are no great admirers of the pretension to peculiar national virtues, having ascertained, to our own satisfaction, by tolerably extensive observation, that the moral difference between men is of no great amount; but we are almost tempted to say, on this occasion, that Mr. Effingham received his guests with American hospitality; for if there be one quality that this people can claim to possess in a higher degree than that of most other Christian nations, it is that of a simple, sincere, confiding hospitality.  For Mrs. Hawker, in common with all who knew her, the owner of the Wigwam entertained a profound respect; and though his less active mind did not take as much pleasure as that of his daughter, in the almost intuitive intelligence of Mrs. Bloomfield, he also felt for this lady a very friendly regard.  It gave him pleasure to see Eve surrounded by persons of her own sex, of so high a tone of thought and breeding; a tone of thought and breeding, moreover, that was as far removed as possible from anything strained or artificial:  and his welcomes were cordial in proportion.  Mr. Bloomfield was a quiet, sensible, gentleman-like man, whom his wife fervently loved, without making any parade of her attachment and he was also one who had the good sense to make himself agreeable wherever he went.  Captain Ducie, who, Englishman-like, had required some urging to be induced to present himself before the precise hour named in his own letter, and who had seriously contemplated passing several days in a tavern, previously to showing himself at the Wigwam, was agreeably disappointed at a reception, that would have been just as frank and warm, had he come without any notice at all:  for the Effinghams knew that the usages which sophistication and a crowded population perhaps render necessary in older countries, were not needed in their own; and then the circumstance that their quondam pursuer was so near a kinsman of Paul Powis’, did not fail to act essentially in his favour.

“We can offer but little, in these retired mountains, to interest a traveller and a man of the world, Captain Ducie,” said Mr. Effingham, when he went to pay his compliments more particularly, after the whole party was in the house; “but there is a common interest in our past adventures to talk about, after all other topics fail.  When, we met on the ocean, and you deprived us so unexpectedly of our friend Powis, we did not know that you had the better claim of affinity to his company.”

Captain Ducie coloured slightly, but he made his answer with a proper degree of courtesy and gratitude.

“It is very true,” he added, “Powis and myself are relatives, and I shall place all my claims to your hospitality to his account; for I feel that I have been the unwilling cause of too much suffering to your party to bring with me any very pleasant recollections, notwithstanding your kindness in including me as a friend in the adventures of which you speak.”

“Dangers that are happily past, seldom bring very unpleasant recollections, more especially when they were connected with scenes of excitement, I understand, sir, that the unhappy young man, who was the principal cause of all that passed, anticipated the sentence of the law, by destroying himself.”

“He was his own executioner, and the victim of a silly weakness that, I should think, your state of society was yet too young and simple to encourage.  The idle vanity of making an appearance, a vanity, by the way, that seldom besets gentlemen, or the class to which it may be thought more properly to belong, ruins hundreds of young men in England, and this poor creature was of the number.  I never was more rejoiced than when he quitted my ship, for the sight of so much weakness sickened one of human nature.  Miserable as his fate proved to be, and pitiable as his condition really was while in my charge, his case has the alleviating circumstance with me, of having made me acquainted with those whom it might not otherwise have been my good fortune to meet!”

This civil speech was properly acknowledged, and Mr. Effingham addressed himself to Captain Truck, to whom, in the hurry of the moment, he had not yet said half that his feelings dictated.

“I am rejoiced to see you under my roof, my worthy friend,” taking the rough hand of the old seaman between his own whiter and more delicate fingers, and shaking it with cordiality, “for this is being under my roof, while those town residences have less the air of domestication and familiarity.  You will spend many of your holidays here, I trust; and when we get a few years older, we will begin to prattle about the marvels we have seen in company.”

The eye of Captain Truck glistened, and, as he return ed the shake by another of twice the energy, and the gentle pressure of Mr. Effingham by a squeeze like that of a vice, he said in his honest off-hand manner ­

“The happiest hour I ever knew was that in which I discharged the pilot, the first time out, as a ship-master; the next great event of my life, in the way of happiness, was the moment I found myself on the deck of the Montauk, after we had given those greasy Arabs a him that their room was better than their company; and I really think this very instant must be set down as the third.  I never knew, my dear sir, how much I truly loved you and your daughter, until both were out of sight.”

“That is so kind and gallant a speech, that it ought not to be lost on the person most concerned.  Eve, my love, our worthy friend has just made a declaration which will be a novelty to you, who have not been much in the way of listening to speeches of this nature.”

Mr. Effingham then acquainted his daughter with what Captain Truck had just said.

“This is certainly the first declaration of the sort I ever heard, and with the simplicity of an unpractised young woman, I here avow that the attachment is reciprocal,” said the smiling Eve.  “If there is an indiscretion in this hasty acknowledgement, it must be ascribed to surprise, and to the suddenness with which I have learned my power, for your parvenues are not always perfectly regulated.”

“I hope Mamselle V.A.V. is well,” returned the Captain, cordially shaking the hand the young lady had given him, “and that she enjoys herself to her liking in this outlandish country?”

“Mademoiselle Viefville will return you her thanks in person, at dinner; and I believe she does not yet regret la belle France unreasonably; as I regret it myself, in many particulars, it would be unjust not to permit a native of the country some liberty in that way.”

“I perceive a strange face in the room ­one of the family, my dear young lady?”

“Not a relative, but a very old friend. ­Shall I have the pleasure of introducing you, Captain?”

“I hardly dared to ask it, for I know you must have been overworked in this way, lately, but I confess I should like an introduction; I have neither introduced, nor been introduced since I left New-York, with the exception of the case of Captain Ducie, whom I made properly acquainted with Mrs. Hawker and her party as you may suppose.  They know each other regularly now, and you are saved the trouble of going through the ceremony yourself.”

“And how is it with you and the Bloomfields?  Did Mrs. Hawker name you to them properly?”

“That is the most extraordinary thing of the sort I ever knew!  Not a word was said in the way of introduction, and yet I slid into an acquaintance with Mrs. Bloomfield so easily, that I could not tell how it was done, if my life depended on it.  But this very old friend of yours, my dear young lady ­”

“Captain Truck, Mr. Howel; Mr. Howel, Captain Truck;” said Eve, imitating the most approved manner of the introductory spirit of the day with admirable self-possession and gravity.  “I am fortunate in having it in my power to make two persons whom I so much esteem acquainted.”

“Captain Truck is the gentleman who commands the Montauk?” said Mr. Howel, glancing at Eve, as much as to say, “am I right?”

“The very same, and the brave seaman to whom we are all indebted for the happiness of standing here at this moment.”

“You are to be envied, Captain Truck; of all the men in your calling, you are exactly the one I should most wish to supplant.  I understand you actually go to England twice every year!”

“Three times, sir, when the winds permit.  I have even seen the old island four times, between January and January.”

“What a pleasure!  It must be the very acme of navigation to sail between America and England!”

“It is not unpleasant, sir, from April to November, but the long nights, thick weather, and heavy winds knock off a good deal of the satisfaction for the rest of the year.”

“But I speak of the country; of old England itself; not of the passages.”

“Well, England has what I call a pretty fair coast.  It is high, and great attention is paid to the lights; but of what account is either coast or lights, if the weather is so thick, you cannot see the end of your flying-jib-boom!”

“Mr. Howel alludes more particularly to the country, inland,” said Eve; “to the towns, the civilization and the other proofs of cultivation and refinement.  To the government, especially.”

“In my judgment, sir, the government is much too particular about tobacco, and some other trifling things I could name.  Then it restricts pennants to King’s ships, whereas, to my notion, my dear young lady, a New-York packet is as worthy of wearing a pennant as any vessel that floats.  I mean, of course, ships of the regular European lines, and not the Southern traders.”

“But these are merely spots on the sun, my good sir,” returned Mr. Howel; “putting a few such trifles out of the question, I think you will allow that England is the most delightful country in the world?”

“To be frank with you, Mr. Howel, there is a good deal of hang-dog weather, along in October, November and December.  I have known March any thing but agreeable, and then April is just like a young girl with one of your melancholy novels, now smiling, and now blubbering.”

“But the morals of the country, my dear sir; the moral features of England must be a source of never-dying delight to a true philanthropist,” resumed Mr. Howel, as Eve, who perceived that the discourse was likely to be long, went to join the ladies.  “An Englishman has most reason to be proud of the moral excellencies of his country!”

“Why, to be frank with you, Mr. Howel, there are some of the moral features of London, that are any thing but very beautiful.  If you could pass twenty-four hours in the neighbourhood of St. Catharine’s, would see sights that would throw Templeton into fits.  The English are a handsome people, I allow; but their morality is none of the best-featured.”

“Let us be seated, sir; I am afraid we are not exactly agreed on our terms, and, in order that we may continue this subject, I beg you will let me take a seat next you, at table.”

To this Captain Truck very cheerfully assented, and then the two took chairs, continuing the discourse very much in the blind and ambiguous manner in which it had been commenced; the one party insisting on seeing every thing through the medium of an imagination that had got to be diseased on such subjects, or with a species of monomania; while the other seemed obstinately determined to consider the entire country as things had been presented to his limited and peculiar experience, in the vicinity of the docks.

“We have had a very unexpected, and a very agreeable attendant in Captain Truck,” said Mrs Hawker, when Eve had placed herself by her side, and respectfully taken one of her hands.  “I really think if I were to suffer shipwreck, or to run the hazard of captivity, I should choose to have both occur in his good company.”

“Mrs. Hawker makes so many conquests,” observed Mrs. Bloomfield, “that we are to think nothing of her success with this mer-man; but what will you say, Miss Effingham, when you learn that I am also in favour, in the same high quarter.  I shall think the better of masters, and boatswains, and Trinculos and Stephanos, as long as I live, for this specimen of their craft.”

“Not Trinculos and Stephanos, dear Mrs. Bloom field; for, a l’ exception près de Saturday-nights, and sweethearts and wives, a more exemplary person in the way of libations does not exist than our excellent Captain Truck.  He is much too religious and moral for so vulgar an excess as drinking.”

“Religious!” exclaimed Mrs, Bloomfield, in sur prise.  “This is a merit to which I did not know he possessed the smallest claims.  One might imagine a little superstition, and some short-lived repentances in gales of wind; but scarcely any thing as much like a trade wind, as religion!”

“Then you do not know him; for a more sincerely devout man, though I acknowledge it is after a fashion that is perhaps peculiar to the ocean, is not often met with.  At any rate, you found him attentive to our sex?”

“The pink of politeness, and, not to embellish, there is a manly deference about him, that is singularly agreeable to our frail vanity.  This comes of his packet-training, I suppose, and we may thank you for some portion of his merit, His tongue never tires in your praises, and did I not feel persuaded that your mind is made up never to be the wife of any republican American, I should fear this visit exceedingly.  Notwithstanding the remark I made concerning my being in favour, the affair lies between Mrs. Hawker and yourself.  I know it is not your habit to trifle even on that very popular subject with young ladies, matrimony; but this case forms so complete an exception to the vulgar passion, that I trust you will overlook the indiscretion.  Our golden captain, for copper he is not, protests that Mrs. Hawker is the most delightful old lady he ever knew, and that Miss Eve Effingham is the most delightful young lady he ever knew.  Here, then, each may see the ground she occupies, and play her cards accordingly.  I hope to be forgiven for touching on a subject so delicate.”

“In the first place,” said Eve, smiling, “I should wish to hear Mrs. Hawker’s reply.”

“I have no more to say, than to express my perfect gratitude,” answered that lady, “to announce a determination not to change my condition, on account of extreme youth, and a disposition to abandon the field to my younger, if not fairer, rival.”

“Well, then,” resumed Eve, anxious to change the subject, for she saw that Paul was approaching their group, “I believe it will be wisest in me to suspend a decision, circumstances leaving so much at my disposal.  Time must show what that decision will be.”

“Nay,” said Mrs. Bloomfield, who saw no feeling involved in the trifling, “this is unjustifiable coquetry, and I feel bound to ascertain how the land lies.  You will remember I am the Captain’s confidant, and you know the fearful responsibility of a friend in an affair of this sort; that of a friend in the duello being insignificant in comparison.  That I may have testimony at need, Mr. Powis shall be made acquainted with the leading facts.  Captain Truck is a devout admirer of this young lady, sir, and I am endeavouring to discover whether he ought to hang himself on her father’s lawn, this evening, as soon as the moon rises, or live another week.  In order to do this, I shall pursue the categorical and inquisitorial method ­and so defend yourself Miss Effingham.  Do you object to the country of your admirer?”

Eve, though inwardly vexed at the turn this pleasantry had taken, maintained a perfectly composed manner, for she knew that Mrs. Bloomfield had too much feminine propriety to say any thing improper, or any thing that might seriously embarrass her.

“It would, indeed, be extraordinary, should I object to a country which is not only my own, but which has so long been that of my ancestors,” she answered steadily.  “On this score, my knight has nothing to fear.”

“I rejoice to hear this,” returned Mrs. Bloomfield, glancing her eyes, unconsciously to herself, however, towards Sir George Templemore, “and, Mr. Powis, you, who I believe are a European, will learn humility in the avowal.  Do you object to your swain that he is a seaman?”

Eve blushed, notwithstanding a strong effort to appear composed, and, for the first time since their acquaintance, she felt provoked with Mrs. Bloomfield.  She hesitated before she answered in the negative, and this too in a way to give more meaning to her reply, although nothing could be farther from her intentions.

“The happy man may then be an American and a seaman!  Here is great encouragement.  Do you object to sixty?”

“In any other man I should certainly consider it a blemish, as my own dear father is but fifty.”

Mrs. Bloomfield was struck with the tremor in the voice, and with the air of embarrassment, in one who usually was so easy and collected; and with feminine sensitiveness she adroitly abandoned the subject, though she often recurred to this stifled emotion in the course of the day, and from that moment she became a silent observer of Eve’s deportment with all her father’s guests.

“This is hope enough for one day,” she said, rising; “the profession and the flag must counterbalance the years as best they may, and the Truck lives another revolution of the sun!  Mrs. Hawker, we shall be late at dinner, I see by that clock, unless we retire soon.”

Both the ladies now went to their rooms; Eve, who was already dressed for dinner, remaining in the drawing-room.  Paul still stood before her, and, like herself, he seemed embarrassed.

“There are men who would be delighted to hear even the little that has fallen from your lips in this trifling,” he said, as soon as Mrs. Bloomfield was out of hearing.  “To be an American and a seaman, then, are not serious defects in your eyes?”

“Am I to be made responsible for Mrs. Bloomfield’s caprices and pleasantries?”

“By no means; but I do think you hold yourself responsible for Miss Effingham’s truth and sincerity I can conceive of your silence, when questioned too far, but scarcely of any direct declaration, that shall not possess both these high qualities.”

Eve looked up gratefully, for she saw that profound respect for her character dictated the remark; but rising, she observed ­

“This is making a little badinage about our honest, lion-hearted, old captain, a very serious affair.  And now, to show you that I am conscious of, and thankful for, your own compliment, I shall place you on the footing of a friend to both the parties, and request you will take Captain Truck into your especial care, while he remains here.  My father and cousin are both sincerely his friends, but their habits are not so much those of their guests, as yours will probably be; and to you, then, I commit him, with a request that he may miss his ship and the ocean as little as possible.”

“I would I knew how to take this charge, Miss Effingham! ­To be a seaman is not always a recommendation with the polished, intelligent, and refined.”

“But when one is polished, intelligent, and refined, to be a seaman is to add one other particular and useful branch of knowledge to those which are more familiar.  I feel certain Captain Truck will be in good hands, and now I will go and do my devoirs to my own especial charges, the ladies.”

Eve bowed as she passed the young man, and she left the room with as much haste as at all became her.  Paul stood motionless quite a minute after she had vanished, nor did he awaken from his reverie, until aroused by an appeal from Captain Truck, to sustain him, in some of his matter-of-fact opinions concerning England, against the visionary and bookish notions of Mr. Howel.

“Who is this Mr. Powis?” asked Mrs. Bloomfield of Eve, when the latter appeared in her dressing-room, with an unusual impatience of manner.

“You know, my dear Mrs. Bloomfield, that he was our fellow-passenger in the Montauk, and that he was of infinite service to us, in escaping from the Arabs.”

“All this I know, certainly; but he is a European, is he not?”

Eve scarcely ever felt more embarrassed than in answering this simple question.

“I believe not; at least, I think not; we thought so when we met him in Europe, and even until quite lately; but he has avowed himself a countryman of our own, since his arrival at Templeton.”

“Has he been here long?”

“We found him in the village on reaching home.  He was from Canada, and has been in waiting for his cousin, Captain Ducie, who came with you.”

“His cousin! ­He has English cousins, then!  Mr. Ducie kept this to himself, with true English reserve.  Captain Truck whispered something of the latter’s having taken out one of his passengers, the Mr. Powis. the hero of the rocks, but I did not know of his having found his way back to our ­to his country.  Is he as agreeable as Sir George Templemore?”

“Nay, Mrs. Bloomfield, I must leave you to judge of that for yourself.  I think them both agreeable men; but there is so much caprice in a woman’s tastes, that I decline thinking for others.”

“He is a seaman, I believe,” observed Mrs. Bloomfield, with an abstracted manner ­“he must have been, to have manoeuvred and managed as I have been told he did.  Powis ­Powis ­that is not one of our names, neither ­I should think he must be from the south.”

Here Eve’s habitual truth and dignity of mind did her good service, and prevented any further betrayal of embarrassment.

“We do not know his family,” she steadily answered.  “That he is a gentleman, we see; but of his origin and connections he never speaks.”

“His profession would have given him the notions of a gentleman, for he was in the navy I have heard, although I had thought it the British navy.  I do not know of any Powises in Philadelphia, or Baltimore, or Richmond, or Charleston; he must surely be from the interior.”

Eve could scarcely condemn her friend for a curiosity that had not a little tormented herself, though she would gladly change the discourse.

“Mr. Powis would be much gratified, did he know what a subject of interest he has suddenly become with Mrs. Bloomfield,” she said, smiling.

“I confess it all; to be very sincere, I think him the most distinguished young man, in air, appearance, and expression of countenance, I ever saw.  When this is coupled with what I have heard of his gallantry and coolness, my dear, I should not be woman to feel no interest in him.  I would give the world to know of what State he is a native, if native, in truth, he be.”

“For that we have his own word.  He was born in this country, and was educated in our own marine.”

“And yet from the little that fell from him, in our first short conversation, he struck me as being educated above his profession.”

“Mr. Powis has seen much as a traveller; when we met him in Europe, it was in a circle particularly qualified to improve both his mind and his manners.”

“Europe!  Your acquaintance did not then commence, like that with Sir George Templemore, in the packet?”

“Our acquaintance with neither, commenced in the packet.  My father had often seen both these gentlemen, during our residences in different parts of Europe.”

“And your father’s daughter?”

“My father’s daughter, too,” said Eve, laughing.  “With Mr. Powis, in particular, we were acquainted under circumstances that left a vivid recollection of his manliness and professional skill.  He was of almost as much service to us on one of the Swiss lakes, as he has subsequently been on the ocean.”

All this was news to Mrs. Bloomfield, and she looked as if she thought the intelligence interesting.  At this moment the dinner-bell rang, and all the ladies descended to the drawing-room.  The gentlemen were already assembled, and as Mr. Effingham led Mrs. Hawker to the table, Mrs. Bloomfield gaily took Eve by the arm, protesting that she felt herself privileged, the first day, to take a seat near the young mistress of the Wigwam.

“Mr. Powis and Sir George Templemore will not quarrel about the honour,” she said, in a low voice, as they proceeded towards the table.

“Indeed you are in error, Mrs. Bloomfield; Sir George Templemore is much better pleased with being at liberty to sit next my cousin Grace.”

“Can this be so!” returned the other, looking intently at her young friend.

“Indeed it is so, and I am very glad to be able to affirm it.  How far Miss Van Cortlandt is pleased that it is so, time must show:  but the baronet betrays every day, and all day, how much he is pleased with her.”

“He is then a man of less taste, and judgment, and intelligence, than I had thought him.”

“Nay, dearest Mrs. Bloomfield, this is not necessarily true; or, if true, need it be so openly said?”

“Se non e vero, e ben trovato.”