fine," was cruelly affected by the advertisements in the neighborhood,
which he denounced as "dreadfully American," trickled out much feeble
criticism of and acid comment on his surroundings, gave utterance to
fervent wishes that he was "abrard," and in his own unpleasant way gave
Ethel to understand that she might make a fellow-countryman happy by
becoming Mrs. Samuel Bates if she liked to avail herself of a golden
opportunity. "I would live in England, you know. I am really far more at
home there than here," said the expatriated suitor. "I have been taken
for an Englishman as often as three times in one week, do you know.
Curious, isn't it? I ought to be down in Kent now, visiting Lady
Simpson, a great friend of mine, who has asked me there again and again.
You would like her if you knew her. She is quite the great lady down
there."

"A foolish little man, and evidently a great snob, or else rather daft
upon some points," Ethel reported to her aunt. "And such a dull,
discontented creature, with all his money!" Ethel had some trials of her
own just then, and it was no great felicity to listen to Mr. Bates's
endless complaints, nor could she spare much sympathy for the sufferings
of the exile of Tecumseh, with his rose-leaf sensibilities, inanities,
absurdities.

Meanwhile, the young gentleman who was indirectly responsible for many a
sad thought of two charming girls that we know of--and who shall say how
many more?--was enjoying as much happiness as ever fell to any man in
the capacity of ardent sportsman. He had joined the duke and his party
at St. Louis, and from there they had gone "well away from anywhere," as
he said in describing his adventures to Mr. Heathcote. He had at last
reached the ideal spot of all his wildest imaginations and most
cherished hopes,--"the wild part,"--really the great prairies, about two