Our rooms are large-indeed, our house is one

Built by the present Member to contain

Whole shoals of hungry voters; but the town Grows Liberal; at last election-time

His head was nearly broken; so he deems His pearls too precious to be spent on swine, And lets his house, and lives ten miles away. Well, as I said, we did most passably;

I think 'twas sixty-three or sixty-four

We numbered; all went smoothly, save for one Unfortunate annoyance which I had

To bear with from my

sister Eucharis.

To make you understand it, you must know
That long before I married she had grown
From oddness to a singularity

Which, looking at its present consequence,
I cannot think, poor child, bespeaks in her
A mind at all times sound. Three years ago,
You know she had (or, if you do not know,

I tell you now) a disappointment, which,

Though all of us, and she herself, indeed,
Regarded as most fortunate, may yet

Have caused her more excitement than she thinks;
She always was excitable. Well, now,

Since last November, she has been engaged

(O heavens ! what a word! I grow quite faint
To think what wrath would centre on my head
If she but knew I used it !)-no, my dear,
She's not engaged-she's married, so she says;
I never thought that spiritual wives

Would cross the Atlantic eastward; but if you
Heard half the awful nonsense that she talks

(I call it awful, for at times, in truth,

It waxes irreligious-even worse),

You would not think her sane. I gave mamma
My mind about it; but I grow quite sick

Of being told I cannot understand,

That Eucharis is different (so she is ;

Thank heav'n for that!) from other womenkind.

Mamma quite takes her side; I hope and trust
She may not live to see some evil grow
Out of this freedom. Not that she is free
In manner-quite the opposite; I think
That man would come but very poorly off
Who dared a liberty with her; but then
Her speech to those, myself to wit, who strive
To mend her oddities, is really shocking.

She asked me, just for instance, this day week,
If I imagined I was truly wed;

And what my thoughts would be, if, in the day Of Judgment, I should find myself arraigned Amid a host of women of bad life,

Who sell themselves for money. I was vexed
Almost to quarrelling with her; but, in truth,
At times I think her not responsible

For what she says; and she is still, besides,
So deeply grieved at heart, if she suspects
Her words have hurt me.

Well, she is engaged,

Or rather married, to a gentleman

She met ten weeks ago, one rainy night

We dragged her, much resisting, to the ball

We call the hunt ball ;-(Oh, she thanks me now For dragging her!) a Mr. Arlington,

Who came down here for some mysterious cause

(For no one knew him), met her at the ball,
Got introduced, and then, instead of going
About his proper business back to town,
Hung about here and preyed on Eucharis.
You must not laugh, but, seriously, I think,

From what she tells me, she was first impressed
By his dislike to dancing,-a dislike

Which is but one among her oddities.

He is a gentleman, and well connected,

And has some money, tho' not much; he paints,

And might, I hear, be famous, if he chose

To act like other mortals; but he holds

All gain of money as detestable,

And really has been rude in his remarks

About the Bank. Well, here the lovers are,
Roaming together all the country round;

My maid, who comes from Thornton, saw them once
Parading through a wood three miles from home,
And not an hour of daylight, if you please!
A nice example to the country-folk!

And everything in keeping. (O dear me,
I hear the dressing bell!-My dear, attend
To this injunction; if you come to wed
Never be late for dinner! I must haste
And finish up the story of my wrongs.)

Last night she came, and he came, and mamma,-
Came late and went quite early; well enough
For poor mamma,—but what do you think of this?
Nor he nor she would dance a single step!
And even hinted that they only came

Because mamma must come; she sat and talked
With old Miss Pringle, whom we just endure

By reason of her interest in the Bank;