urging upon his auditor, with the assistance of a thumb and
forefinger of one hand, joined as upon a pinch of snuff, and tapping
the centre of the other palm; "does not that appear inexcusable
profligacy of extravagance, which fells and consumes whole surface
forests of magnificent trees--virgin growth--(I use the term as it
is usually applied, although, philosophically considered, it is
inaccurate) giants, which centuries will not replace, instead of
seeking beneath the superficial covering of mould, nourishing these,
for the exhaustless riches, carboniferous remains of antediluvian
woods, hidden in the bowels of your mountains, and underlying your
worn-out fields?"

Rosa was shaking with internal laughter--she would give no escape
except through her dancing eyes.

Indeed, Mr. Dorrance's was the only staid countenance there, as
Mabel said, pleasantly, moving her chair beyond the bounds of the
ring, "I, for one, find the combustion of the upper forest growth
too powerful, just at this instant. This is a genuine
Christmas-storm--is it not? Listen to the wind?"

In the stillness enjoined by her gesture, the growl of the blast in
the chimney and in the grove; the groaning, tapping, and creaking of
the tree branches; the pelting sleet and the rattle of casements all
over the house brought to the least imaginative a picture of
out-door desolation and fireside comfort that prolonged the hush of
attention. Tom Barksdale's pretty wife slipped her hand covertly
into his tight grasp, and their smile was of mutual congratulation
that they were brightly and warmly housed and together. Rosa,
preternaturally grave and quiet, lapsed into a profound study of the