There is something terrible to the young girl in the original turn of
thought of this fascinating man. Say what she may, he at once turns it
into virtual devotion to himself. He appears to have a perfectly
dreadful power to hang everybody; he considers her strongest avowal of
present personal dislike the most promising indication she can give of
eternal future infatuation with him, and his powerful mode of reasoning
is more profound and composing than an article in a New York newspaper
on a War in Europe. Rendered dizzy by his metaphysical conversation, she
arises from the rustic seat, and is flying giddily into the house, when
he leaps athletically after her, and catches her in the doorway.

"I merely wish to request," he says, quietly, "that you place sufficient
restraint upon your naturally happy feelings to keep our engagement a
secret from the public at present, as I can't bear to have boys calling
out after me, 'There's the feller that's goin' to get married! There's
the feller that's goin' to get married!' When a man is about to make a
fool of himself, it is not for children to remind him of it."

The door being opened before she can answer, FLORA receives a parting
bow of Grandisonian elegance from Mr. BUMSTEAD, and hastens up stairs to
her room in a distraction of mind not uncommon to those having
conversational relations with the Ritualistic organist.

_(To be Continued.)_

* * * * *

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by the
PUNCHINELLO PUBLISHING COMPANY, in the Clerk's Office of the District
Court of the United States, for the Southern District of New York.