young people sing."

"Perhaps, then, you would like to hear my grand-daughter; she
sings me a song every evening, after tea," said Mr. Wyllys, who,
indeed, seemed to think something was wanting to an evening, in
his own house, unless Elinor gave him a little music, of which he
was passionately fond; though, like most American gentlemen, of
his age, he had no knowledge of the art, and no other guide than
a good ear, and good natural taste. Elinor's voice was a full,
sweet contralto, which had been cultivated under the best masters
in Philadelphia; and, as she never attempted what she could not
perform with ease and grace, her music always gave pleasure. One
or two of the other ladies followed her, at the piano--Mary Van
Horne, and a friend who had come with her; but their performance
was very indifferent. It was rarely that one heard anything
approaching to really good amateur music, in this country,
fifteen years ago, at the date of Elinor's seventeenth birthday.

A light supper, and a Virginia reel, concluded the evening; when
the party broke up.

"I hope you are jealous, Elinor," said Harry Hazlehurst, as he
returned into the house, after having attended Miss Adeline
Taylor to the carriage.

"Jealous!--Of what, pray?"

"Of the heart and affections of your humble servant, to be
sure.--You must have observed the snare that Miss Taylor laid for
them."