A fine subject fog poet's pen or artist's pencil was that aristocratic
old warrior, as he sat there gazing upon the rich woodlands warmed by
the glorious autumn sun, thinking over by-gone days--days when he had
loitered by some fair one's side in many a brilliant assembly, or when
his nerves were steady and his voice all powerful, leading the charge on
many a well-fought field. How long he might have remained ruminating on
things of the past it is impossible to say; the retrospect might have
continued much longer had not his attention been arrested by a slight
noise, when suddenly raising his head a smile of pleasure lit up his
finely cut features as the door opened and a lovely girl, just merging
into womanhood, stepped softly into the room. She was, indeed, very
beautiful; hair of the darkest shade of brown hung in long and glossy
curls from her perfectly shaped head, and rested on the exquisite white
neck and shoulders, the contrast of which showed to a great degree the
almost alabaster whiteness of her skin; grecian nose, and eyes of the
deepest blue, whose long lashes, when veiled, rested lovingly on her
damask cheek, and when raised, revealed a depth and brilliancy which
does not often fall to the lot of mortals; a mouth not too small, whose
beautifully shaped lips, when parted, disclosed to the beholder teeth of
ivory whiteness, small and most evenly set, dazzling indeed was the
effect of those pearly treasures; tall, slight, and elegantly formed,
with a bearing aristocratic and queenly in the extreme; what wonder that
she was the sunshine of old Sir Jasper's declining days and his much and
dearly loved niece.

Gliding up to her uncle she threw heir arms about his neck and
imprinted a kiss on his noble brow, then sinking on a stool at his feet
began to take him to task after the following fashion: "You truant, you
naughty uncle, to let me breakfast alone in my own room thinking you