black eyes, and pink cheeks--and, consequently, was generally
thought an Adonis: his wife was a diminutive little creature,
quite pretty, and very amiable; a sort of mixture of Miss Patsey
and Charlie, without the more striking qualities of either. Some
of her friends had thought her thrown away upon Clapp; but she
seemed perfectly satisfied after five years' experience, and
evidently believed her husband superior in every way to the
common run of men. Holding it to be gross injustice towards the
individuals whom we bring before the reader, to excite a
prejudice against them in the very first chapter, we shall leave
all the party to speak and act for themselves; merely
endeavouring to fill the part of a 'faithful chronicler,'
ourselves.

Mr. Taylor had been looking, with a mixed expression of surprise
and curiosity, at the person he had heard addressed as Miss
Patsey Hubbard, when the lady remarked his manner, and, smiling
quietly, she bowed to him. The bow was returned; and Mr. Taylor
crossed the room, to renew an acquaintance with the woman, who,
three-and-twenty years before, had refused to become his wife.
Mr. Pompey Taylor had, however, risen too much in the world,
since then--according to his own estimation, at least--he had
become too rich and too prosperous, not to look back with great
equanimity, on what he now considered as a very trifling
occurrence. While he was addressing Miss Patsey in his most
polished manner, just marked with an extra-touch of 'affability,'
for her especial benefit, he could not but wonder that her
countenance should still wear the same placid, contented air as
of old; it seemed, indeed, as if this expression had only been
confirmed by time and trials. He began to think the accounts he