abused for it. I really think that you are the last person whose attentions' to me ought to be misconstrued. Every body knows that you are an engaged man, why then not hand me to dinner?" "Because I am an engaged man,” replied Peregrine; "it was for this very reason that they abused me."

Hereupon Miss Sweetenham laughed heartily, and said "that she had never heard any thing better in her life."

“ Nor I," said Peregrine. "The people of Calcutta are the most absurd set of people I ever knew -they think that, because I am engaged and you are not, it is very improper in me to talk to you. They lift up their hands, and sigh and exclaim, 'Poor Miss Poggleton!'"

"Foolish people-foolish people! how little do they know about it! Why, I look upon you, Mr. Pultuney, as a married man, just as much married, as though I had seen you regularly joined in church by Padre Hunter. I wish most cordially for your own sake that you were."

Peregrine said nothing.

"And, besides," continued Augusta Sweetenham," what eyes they must have—how little they can know about the respective parties, if they imagine for a moment that I could be the rival of one so gifted as Julia Poggleton. I thank them very much for the compliment, but really I do not feel that I deserve it."

"What compliment?" asked Peregrine Pultuney. Comparing me in any way with Miss Poggleton-thinking it likely that I could weigh as any thing heavier than a feather in the balance against her."

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Why not?" asked Peregrine.

Why not? and you a lover-recreant-recreant. Well, all I can say is, that I am very glad you are not going to be married to me--at least," she added, "if it were ever to come to my knowledge that you had asked why not' in such a manner as this."

"I do not understand you," said Peregrine, "I really do not understand you—"

Worse, and worse," rejoined Miss Sweetenham; "well, I do not wonder that your friends lecture you, if you behave like this- so oblivious of your absent mistress-so obtusely deaf to her praises. You ought to be all ear, all comprehension, all appreciation when a compliment, however vague, to your betrothed, is uttered. If I had known this before, I should not have taken your part. Mr. Clay and Mr. Splashington did quite right in lecturing you, and I have no doubt that Mrs. Clay's sermon-for women understand these matters much better than men-was full of well-merited censure."

"And so every body is turning against me," sighed Peregrine, "most innocent-most injured as I am; but it is no use to try and defend myselfHow comes on Mother Hubbard's nose?"

"Oh!" returned Augusta Sweetenham, with much animation, "I must thank you for that; you played your part most admirably, far better indeed that I expected you. I do believe that they fully believed us-the simpletons! Now, only think, Mr. Pultuney, there was not in that set of empty heads a single individual, whom Calcutta has not been kind enough to marry me to. I am so sick of being married in report, that I have half a mind never to speak another word to a bachelor as long as I live."

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Except engaged ones," suggested Peregrine.

"Oh! I don't know," rejoined the vivacious young lady," that it is safe to make any such exceptions. I must confine myself to married-men, and married-men living with their wives. I was once married by the world, to a gentleman with a wife and three children in England, so I must not have any thing to say to the married-unmarrieds at all."

"It will be very hard upon us," said Peregrine.

"Hard upon you-you an engaged man! It would not be hard upon you, if you were condemned to take up your lodgings on the top of the Ochterloney Monument, and to hold no converse with humanity for the next year, or at all events till the arrival of your intended, whenever that event may be. You ought to live upon hopesheer hope-and to want no other excitement."

"Indeed!" said Peregrine, "you are very hard upon me."

"Not I-not at all hard upon you; the food of hope ought to be quite enough to sustain your soul in solitude,' as Wordsworth calls it. Oh! I can fancy you," she continued, laughing, "perched up on the top of the Ochterloney Monument, watching the semaphore day after day, like the lonely Argive on the watch-tower in Eschylus, until it shall signalise the name of the Hungerford, or whatever ship may convey your betrothed. Not, however, that I wish you, like the Argive, to be ten years on the look out."

The thought of ten years' delay did not fill the breast of our hero with the sickening sensations which, a few months before, the bare mention of such a thing would have engendered, neither did he devotedly exclaim, as he ought to have done, "God forbid!" but, and we may say it with profound sorrow, the allusion to the Argive on the watch-tower in the Agamemnon of Eschylus, prompted no other feelings than those of admiration of the young lady's talents and learning, and we fear that he looked the admiration he felt, as he asked her if she were a Greek scholar.

"Not at all," she said, "not at all-I know nothing more than ton d'apomeibomenos, (is that what you call it?) which a little brother of mine was very fond of spouting-but I have read the Agamem

non in German, Humboldt's version, and much I enjoyed it."

"And Latin?" asked Peregrine.

"Yes-I do know a little more about that; I know at least a whole line, and the meaning of it

moreover;

'O formose puer, nimium ne crede colori' "—

And she scanned the line, dactyls and spondees, as well as any fourth form-boy at Eton, looking sig nificantly all the while into Peregrine Pultuney's face, with a bright sunny smile playing sweetly upon her own.

"But German you know well, I believe?" continued Peregrine, who had no business in the world to take such a lively interest in the young lady's attainments; but who was, nevertheless, very inquisitive about them.

"Yes," returned Augusta Sweetenham, "a little; but I am not the least inclined this morning to talk about literature of any description; I want you to tell me whether you have decided about what dress you are to wear at the fancy-ball.”

"I have decided not to go at all," returned Peregrine.

"Nonsense; you have done nothing of the kind. Did not I tell you that it was my hookham (order) -my imperative hookham that you should go. The men here are really such slow coaches that we cannot afford to lose one who is not a slow coach,