would be a child--a boy, whom he could "rare up" from the beginning,
and--love--as he did not love Charles.

We were all at the party. The Smiths, Joneses, Browns, and Robinsons
also came, in that fine flow of animal spirits, unchecked by any respect
for the entertainer, which most of us are apt to find so fascinating.
The proceedings would have been somewhat riotous, but for the social
position of the actors. In fact, Mr. Bracy Tibbets, having naturally a
fine appreciation of a humorous situation, but further impelled by the
bright eyes of the Jones girls, conducted himself so remarkably as to
attract the serious regard of Mr. Charles Thompson, who approached him,
saying quietly: "You look ill, Mr. Tibbets; let me conduct you to your
carriage. Resist, you hound, and I'll throw you through that window.
This way, please; the room is close and distressing." It is hardly
necessary to say that but a part of this speech was audible to the
company, and that the rest was not divulged by Mr. Tibbets, who
afterward regretted the sudden illness which kept him from witnessing a
certain amusing incident, which the fastest Miss Jones characterized as
the "richest part of the blow-out," and which I hasten to record.

It was at supper. It was evident that Mr. Thompson had overlooked
much lawlessness in the conduct of the younger people, in his abstract
contemplation of some impending event. When the cloth was removed, he
rose to his feet, and grimly tapped upon the table. A titter, that broke
out among the Jones girls, became epidemic on one side of the board.
Charles Thompson, from the foot of the table, looked up in tender
perplexity. "He's going to sing a Doxology," "He's going to pray,"
"Silence for a speech," ran round the room.

"It's one year to-day, Christian brothers and sisters," said Mr.