"Eh, eh! that's what some people would call precipitate." "In such matters, madame, I think I am safe in trusting to first impressions. The extreme mildness of Emma's manner charmed me. I said to myself: 'This innocent child is exactly suited to you; she will seek neither to tyrannize over you nor to deceive you, and then I was heartily tired of the gypsy-life I have led for these half-dozen years. I know half of Europe and a good slice of Asia and Africa." "If I remember rightly, you are quite a large land-owner." "Yes, but till now I have occupied my160 self as little with the management of my estates as an Esquimau with æsthetics. From the time I left home and all that was dear to me, I roamed restlessly from place to place, always with the image of a cold, ironical, and yet surpassingly-lovely woman in my heart. This phantom, that followed me from Rome to Cairo, from St. Petersburg to Nijni-NovTegorod, from the Tagus to the Euphrates, this sweet, radiant phantom was you, madame." "Did you penetrate as far into the interior as the Euphrates?" stammered Louise. "Farther. Oh, one travels fast when one seeks to escape from recollection. Thank Heaven! in course of time I became sensible -I forgot the lovely demon who drove me Trd hence. I learned to look upon life as it is, and in my happier and more rational moitsments I laughed at my delicious simplicity." "Is-is the Euphrates a fine stream?" "So-so. When I wandered up and down its banks, I was in no mood to enjoy or the appreciate the beautiful. It was only six months after that memorable fancy-dress ball. The wound was still fresh, madame." "You talk as though I had wronged you, Heaven knows, how deeply! Then your flancét's name is Emma Fabricius? Why is she not here?" "Mamma did not think she had better come. She is very busy with her outfit. Half a dozen seamstresses surround her from Te early till late." "Is the wedding to take place so soon?" "In four or five weeks, I believe. Mam and the treaty of amity will be sealed. Do ❘ allow me to observe that in any event you sin you consent?" "Well, since you insist, yes. You see that, despite my six-and-twenty years, I am still ready for a lark." "Agreed, then. I will come for you tomorrow at half-past nine. Nota bene. But how remiss I have been! I have not made a single inquiry after Herr von Ustendorff. I shall be most happy to make his acquaintance." Louise hesitated a moment, and then re plied: "Herr von Ustendorff is dead." "Dead! You are a widow?" "He fell at Sadowa." against usage. You ought to have apprised me of your murderous intentions through a third person." "Never mind, sir, what I ought to have done; but tell me whether you will fight me." "If I refuse, what then?" "Sir, don't drive me to extremities!" The officer drew a revolver from his mantle. In an instant the stalwart Leopold wrested it from him and calmly put it in the pocket of his overcoat. "Send your servant for this thing to-morrow, and I will return it," said he. "Here is my card. Good-night, lieutenant." "Then you refuse me satisfaction?" Leopold stopped. The light of a streetlamp fell on the young man's pale face. The expression was so unhappy that it excited Leopold's deepest sympathy. At this moment the professor approached, and the conversation very naturally took another turn. Leopold took part in it as well as he could; but when, after a few minutes, the signal was given for a polonaise, he bowed silently and went into the hall. But in what a strange frame of mind he was! He sought to fix his attention on this and that, but all to no purpose. Ever and again he "Tell me, I beg," said he, "what has so caught himself running off into a reverie, ❘ incensed you against me? I have no recoland, before he knew it, found himself leaning against a marble mantel opposite where Louise, with the professor and two or three other gentlemen, was engaged in an animated conversation. How lovely she was! How beautifully her dark-brown hair encircled her faultless brow! And these eyes-these soulful, bewitching eyes! Yes, there was the same fascinating glance that once raised such a tumult in his breast. And not one tint of the charm had faded-on the contrary, it seemed as though the flower was now but in full bloom. Recollection, longing, love, were suddenly awakened in the depth of his soul. And she was now freer than ever. "O Louise! Louise! how cruel that Fate should thus a second time separate us!" The ball no longer had any charms for him. He hastened to ma Fabricius fixes the time. I have given | take leave of the lady of the house, and hur Ther plein pouvoir." ried out into the fresh air of a frosty March night. He walked slowly and thoughtfully through the deserted streets without pausing to ask which way or how far he went. Suddenly some one seized him by the left shoulder. "What the devil!" he cried, shaking off the assailant. "Mind what you are about, "H'm! I'll tell you how we can compass | my friend!" t. Go with me to-morrow to the villa-that's That Mamma Fabricius calls her modest little :ountry-house." "What are you thinking of?" "Of taking you to see Mamma Fabricius end her charming daughter." "A strange proposition, truly!" "I began to think you were deaf," answered a voice, tremulous with emotion. "Who are you?" asked Leopold. "My name is Otto von Fersen." "The name is unknown to me." "I am a lieutenant of cavalry." lection of ever having met you before." "You are the destroyer of my happiness. Is that not enough?" "Pray look at my card. I am sure you mistake me for some one else." Oh, I know the accursed name! You are a miserable intriguer." "There is certainly no danger of misunderstanding you. I will pardon your incivility, if you will tell me, without further delay, how I can serve you." "By leaving the city immediately, never to return." "I can't do that, lieutenant." "The city is large enough, I should think, to shelter two of the bitterest enemies." The fiery lieutenant looked down for a moment, seemingly lost in reflection, then silently followed Leopold to the nearest coffeehouse, where the conversation was continued in an undertone. "Good Heavens, how you look!" said Leopold, when they were seated. The officer's reply was any thing but goodnatured; he could not conceal his aversion for his interlocutor. "Let us talk this matter over like two rational beings," said Leopold, smiling. "It pains me deeply to see you so unhappy, de "From an officer I should have looked for spite the recollection that you just now tried "Strange? I don't see that it is. We'll better manners." ke along a duenna, if necessary." "I'm duenna enough myself, but_" "I adapt my manners to the people I have to deal with. Will you be so good as to "Well, then, do me the favor-the first I listen to me?" e: Mer asked of you." "It is too cool to stand still, lieutenant. "But what would the people at the villa If you have any thing to say to me, be so y-an entire stranger and a lady-?" kind as to walk on with me." to blow my brains out. So young and so unhappy! Here, drink this glass of brandy ! - So. And now tell me in what we are rivals; for the life of me I can't divine." "No matter: I must nevertheless insist on my demand. You must either leave the city or you must fight." "Take another glass of brandy, lieutenant.-Leave the city, must I? But if I tell you that I am on the eve of being married, and-" "That's precisely it!" stammered the lieutenant. "You shall not marry-at least, you shall not marry my Emma!" "Oh, ho! now it begins to dawn upon me! You love Fräulein Fabricius, then?" "More than my life!" "And does Emma know it?" "Knows it, and returns my love." "Oh, don't mind me." "Well, to-morrow at eleven meet me un- "I shall not fail." "Good - night, my noble, my generous friend!" "A propos, here is your revolver." "So, so! this is all news to me. Have Do me the favor to accept the weapon as a you any proofs?" "Proofs! Look here!" said he, produc ing a photograph. souvenir of this evening." "How? Everybody supposed you did." "You are a bad psychologist, my dear doctor. We can now be frank with each other. I was prompted to favor Serbingen by caprice-just to show you that I was indifferent to your homage." "But, in Heaven's name, madame, what had I done to make you dislike me so? It was not till I became thoroughly convinced that all my endeavors would be fruitless-not till Henriette told me you had a deep-seated aversion for me-" "What! Did she tell you that? The The two men separated-Otto to dream | little liar!" Leopold recognized the features of his of the gentle Emma; Leopold to think of the fiancée. On the reverse side was written, in a delicate hand: "To my dearly beloved Otto, with ten thousand kisses. - EMMA." "Ugh! a pretty clear case. But she never said a word to me about you." "She's too timid." "You may be right; but the mother is not too timid." "The old tyrant! It's all her fault. You are rich, while I have only a modest competence, and then you know how to manage the old woman, perhaps; I don't, for I hate her!" Leopold took a moment for reflection. The lieutenant sipped his coffee, and seemed somewhat more composed. "Then you love Fräulein Fabricius sincerely, do you?" asked Leopold. "With my whole heart!" protested the lieutenant. "And you will engage to make her happy if I, after due deliberation-" "How?" cried Otto, so loud that he was startled by the sound of his own voice. “Is it possible?" "Let me finish. You see, lieutenant, I am of opinion that the stupidest thing a man can do is to marry a woman who loves another, if he knows it." "On my soul, a truth that cannot be controverted!" morrow. The weather could not have been more favorable for a drive than it was the following morning, and Leopold was prompt in keeping his appointment with Madame von Ustendorff. "What, are you going to drive yourself?" she asked, in a tone of genuine surprise, when she saw the elegant tilbury at the door. "Certainly. Handling horses is one of the few things I think myself skilled in." The beautiful young widow changed color very perceptibly, but she cleverly turned attention from herself by expressing her admiration for the beautiful roadster that pawed the ground in his impatience to be off. In five minutes they were in the open "A glorious morning," said Louise. Leopold. "How beautiful is the deep green of the meadows!" "And the lovely red of my companion's cheeks!" "None of that, doctor-please." "Pardon me, madame, for thinking so loud." "Think of something else. What a loveview we have of the old castle yonder from this point!" "Would it be agreeable to you if I should ❘ly resign my official position, vis-à-vis the gentle Emma, in your favor, now and here?" "Unparalleled magnanimity!" cried Otto, • quite beside himself. "You, a man of honor in the highest and noblest sense of the wordare you truly in earnest, or do you mock me?" "Take another glass of brandy, lieutenant. I am truly in earnest. Emma is yours. In such matters I should be incapable of a jest." "Louise! is it possible? Were we both deceived? Then you never disliked me?" "I told you last evening that you were in error. On the contrary, at first I had a greater liking for you than I was willing to confess. It was not till Henriette assured me-" "The little traitress! The perfidious little wretch! She willfully destroyed the happiness of my life. O Louise! why must I lose you before you were mine?" "For Heaven's sake! You will make me regret that I accepted your invitation." "O Louise, I love you, if possible, more than ever!" "Do you want to make me jump out?" "Listen to me. I have long been re signed to my fate to most things I am comparatively indifferent; but I have one burning desire. Will you gratify it?" "What is it?" "I would look into your very soul. Did you love your husband?" "What a question!" "You will not answer me?" "I respected him-I-I-yes, I liked him exceedingly." "Did you love him?" "Love him? Yes. I loved him as-as you love your Emma." "Oh, how I thank you for this confession! Further: If I had sued for your hand at the same time he did-" "No more, doctor, I beg." "I cannot listen to such a question." "It reminds me of the old castle near D. Do you remember how the count locked us all in the chapel, where we were compelled to remain for two whole hours? Who all was there, in that party? There were you, Henriette, poor Reinhold, whom she afterward jilted, my sister, and two or three others. Oh, those were the happiest hours | shed on your account to tell me which you of my life! I could have fallen at your feet "But her mother-she will never ratify and worshiped you." our treaty." "Leave her to me; I trust I shall be able to manage her." "Oh, how shall I ever be able to thank you? Such a sacrifice! Your magnanimity moves me almost to tears!" "Calm yourself, lieutenant. What I do is very natural. But now listen to what I have to propose." "I am all attention. Himmelschockmillionendonnerwetter! I cannot realize it. You will excuse the oath, but I must give vent to my feelings in some way." "I conjure you by all the tears I have would have chosen!" "I have already told you that I did no "If my memory serves me, we talked of love Herr von Ustendorff with that all-ab very indifferent things." "Ah, Louise, my mind was not on what I was saying. I thought of nothing but yousaw nothing but your glorious eyes. For an hour I thought you were not wholly indifferent to me. Then came the bitter, bitter reality. During all the rest of the day you did not deign even to look at me, but jested so gayly and laughed so immoderately with that disagreeable, stupid Von Serbingen-" "I never thought Herr von Serbingen any more agreeable than other people did." sorbing love of which you speak." "O Louise, you give me new life! Nov one thing more, and you will make me th happiest of mortals. Say that you could lov me, and that you will be mine!" "Are you mad?" "Louise, I never did nor can I ever lov any one but you!" he cried, and clasped he round the waist. "If you seek to be revenged, you hav attained your object. Your mockery wound more deeply than I can tell you." She covered her face with her hands and ing you to my betrothed, Frau Louise von wept bitterly. Ustendorff, née Gerhard. My love, allow me to make you acquainted with the future husband of my Emma-the happiest man alive, with one exception." "Listen to me. Will you drive me from you a second time? I love you, and you alone." "I have not deserved this," she sobbed. "Take me home!" "Not yet. Dry your eyes, and know that since last evening Emma is the betrothed of another. Me she never loved. She is as happy as I am. And now be calm and rational, and tell me if you will consent to re Here some minutes were given to questions and explanations. Louise reproached her cousin for attempting to carry out his murderous designs on the very same evening he had promised her to act like a man of sense for a week at least. Otto pleaded the happy results of his hot-headed folly. After pair the errors of the past. Will you be my | congratulating one another over and again, loving and beloved wife?" came finally the unavoidable "What now?" The tilbury entered a little wood. The Leopold immediately unfolded his plan horse kept the road without the guidance of with all the rhetoric at his command, and anhis master. Right and left towered silent | swered Louise's objections with so much sucold firs, and Louise laid her head trusting-cess, that she finally yielded. Otto was all ly against the breast of her first and only love. Meanwhile, the hot-headed lieutenant waited under the big linden. He was at the appointed place an hour ahead of time. After walking restlessly to and fro for what seemed to him an age, he looked at his watch and murmured: "fire and flame" for Leopold's project as "Have you the photograph with you?" "A quarter after ten. Three-quarters of Leopold asked Otto, as they alighted. an hour more, even if he is punctual." His monologue was interrupted by the sound of an approaching vehicle. He hastened to the road, and behold! there was his generous friend of the previous evening with his cousin Louise at his side. What astonished him, however, more than this tête-à-tête in a tilbury, was the fact that at this moment they turned round; evidently having suddenly decided to return to town. This, as can be easily imagined, was in obedience to Louise's wishes. The lieutenant lost no time, but rushed into the middle of the road, and cried out at the top of his voice: "Louise! Cousin Louise! Hold! Doctor! Hold on!" Leopold and Louise looked around with evident surprise. "Why, there is Cousin Otto!" cried the latter. "Your cousin?" "Turn round! turn round! Where are you going?" cried the lieutenant, at the very top of his voice. "Well, let's turn round. I am curious to hear what he has to say to us," said Louise. As yet Leopold had found no time to tell Louise of his last night's adventure. He now took in the situation in all its details at a glance. His plans assumed form and shape with equal celerity. Louise being the lieutenant's cousin, her presence at the Fabricius Villa could not be looked upon as being extraordinary. Besides, he believed he possessed sufficient presence of mind and tact to be equal to every situation that could arise. The idea of presenting his own and Emma's fiancé to Mamma Fabricius, at the same time, had something in it so piquant that he determined to use all his powers of persuasion to induce Louise to second his plan. At first he introduced the two cousins to each other in this wise: "Lieutenant, I have the honor of present "What, Emma's?" "The one with the ten thousand kisses on the back, and, I have no doubt, an equal number on the face." "Certainly." At this moment the door opened and Emma entered the room. She wore a lovely, bright-colored morning-dress, but her cheeks were pale. Her handsome though rather expressionless blue eyes seemed to tell of some secret sorrow. When she saw the lieutenant she started visibly, and, if possible, became still more colorless. Otto, too, trembled to the very point of his sword. Leopold hastened toward the hesitating girl and kissed her hand in a deferential manner; then he led her to the centre of the room, drew the photograph he had borrowed from Otto from his pocket and read : ""To my dearly-beloved Otto, with ten thousand kisses. - EMMΑ.'" The poor girl cried out as though she had received a dagger-thrust. "What does that mean?" asked Madame Fabricius; and the old lady's eyes looked as though they would leave their sockets. "That means that Otto is beloved by Emma, who gives him ten thousand kisses. It's very clear, it seems to me." "Are you mad, my dear doctor?" "I don't think I am. My name is Leopold. Otto, the dearly-beloved, sits over there, trembling more than he would, I am sure, if he were about to lead a forlorn-hope." "But, in Heaven's name " "Listen to me calmly, my dear madame. Fräulein Emma is one of the most charming "Will you let me take it for a little girls in the world; indeed, with perhaps a while?" "With pleasure." "Now, then, forward!" single exception, there is not a woman in the whole German Empire who would make me a more lovely bride, were it not for one unpardonable requisite-" "Sir!" Madame Fabricius was not a little sur- "An unpardonable requisite, I say-her "I have taken the liberty to bring some relations with me," said Leopold. "Who says so? Who says her affections are another's?" It was now the lieutenant's turn to speak. "O madame!" he sighed from the depth "They are very welcome. Pray be seat of his bosom, "do not refuse your consent to ed," replied Mamma Fabricius. our union. Emma loves me as I love herdevotedly, passionately. It was obedience to the wishes of a beloved mother only that ever induced her-" "Oh, what's the use of making so many words about it?" interrupted Leopold.-" You Louise and Otto accepted this invitation with an alacrity that intimated clearly enough that they did not feel altogether comfortable, and hoped to find relief in a change of postThe lieutenant's heart beat most insubordinately, and all of Louise's accustomed ❘ understand, madame, that I relinquish all my self-possession seemed to have left her. "And Emma?" asked Leopold. ure. Otto started as though a pin had been stuck into him. rights to the hand of your daughter-that is, if I can relinquish what I have never had. Her real fiancé stands there. Fräulein Emma, come here, please-you, too, lieutenant. "Oh, Emma is very busy," replied Ma- Madame Fabricius consents with pleasure to dame Fabricius, with a smile. "Ay, ay, with her outfit; but nevertheless she will honor us for a few minutes, I trust." Madame Fabricius rang. "Annette," said she to the maid who answered the bell, "say to Fräulein Emma that Dr. Winther is here." "Meanwhile allow me to present my relations. Frau von Ustendorff." The two ladies bowed. "Lieutenant von-von-parbleu, my dear Otto, but your name is very hard to pro nounce." "I already have the honor," said Ma- your union. Give me your hands." As he was about to place Emma's hand in the lieutenant's, the astonished and infuriated mamma sprang between them. "Stand back!" she cried. "I will dispose of the hand of my daughter, not you, sir!" "My dear madame, what's done cannot be undone. And then think of the consequences! An abandoned daughter, abandoned three weeks before the time set for the wedding! What would people say? The world would be ignorant of the reason? And then the outfit that has cost so much money and labor. Shall it all be thrown away? Other suitors will present themselves, you will answer. are like those heavy, well-organized English | back-room in the fourth story to obtain it, That is possible; but then I am sure Fräulein Emma would rather die than consent, a second time, to marry one whom her heart had not chosen. And what fault have you to find with the lieutenant here? He not only loves your daughter devotedly, madly, but he entertains for you a respect and a veneration which, under the circumstances, are very remarkable. Not a word of complaint or reproach has passed his lips. You will have in him one of the most devoted of sons. Can a woman of your intelligence and strength of character - a woman in whom genuine dignity is united with such gentleness-refuse her consent, when the happiness of two innocent young people, the honor of your family, and the interests of justice, are at stake?" households where the footman is summoned to tell the butler to mention to the housekeeper that the key to the blue-room is wanted, and she will please search among her bunches for it. The quick-witted have the blue-room unlocked and all its treasures displayed before the key is missed or asked for. A certain learned man in England, on being congratulated on his talent for small talk, said: "It has cost me more effort and study to achieve small talk than to conquer the higher mathematics, but I felt the desperate want of it, and went at it as a study." He was fortunate to have been able to conquer it. Theodore Hook was an instance of the power of readiness. He had the talent of an improvisatore, and could make verses to order, and was of course a very original wit; but it was all owing to the instantaneous It began to dawn upon Mamma Fabricius that she was defeated. A moment given to reflection convinced her that the wisest thing to do was to put a good face on what seemed to her a bad business. Forcing her broadest smile into her hard features, and her kind- | action of his mind. Once he was asked what liest tone into her unsympathetic voice, she asked: "Are you, then, really so very fond of each other, my children?" "Yes, mamma," murmured the gentle Emma. "Well, then, have your own way! I see it's useless to contend against the intrigues of youth." "Bravo! Two pearls in one net! This is the happiest day of my life!" cried Leopold. "I do not understand you, my dear doctor," replied Madame Fabricius, drawing herself up to her maximum height. "Allow us to remain to luncheon, madame, and you shall be made acquainted with every detail." Before her guests took leave, Madame Fabricius became doubly convinced that the desires of young hearts are not easily thwarted by the projects of old heads. T POSSIBLE UTOPIAS. HAT would be a desirable Utopia, where one could remember at the proper time and place the good things which occur to the mind after the time of saying them has passed. The French sum up this species of regret by the happy phrase, "L'esprit d'escalier"-the wit of the staircase the thoughts which come to you as you are going up for your hat and coat, and which you wish had come to you before. The puns which we have not made, the happy historical allusions which we have not remembered, the felicitous retorts which we have not fired off, but which come afterward to haunt us, are among the severe pin-pricks which will always belong to our imperfect humanity. There are a happy few who can always command their wits. Their minds are obedient handmaidens who bring them every thing they want, and these fortunate, quick-witted people are so by a gift of Nature; it cannot be acquired. People of the most solid knowledge are not the ones who are most apt to bring it forth at a moment's warning. They was the chief objection to dining alone. "Why, the bottle comes round too often, I suppose," said he. Again, on being told that he must write something for the Englishman on the death of the King and Queen of the Sandwich Islands, he immediately wrote: ""Waiter! two Sandwiches,' said Death, And their wild majesties resigned their breath." what could be said to a traveler-say a man from Chicago or St. Louis-who wanted a drink, at this absurd and unpopular arrangement, immediately responded: "You might say to him what the Abbé Edgeworth said to Louis XVI. at the foot of the scaffold, Fils de St.-Louis, montez en haut!" Here was another magnificent instance of the contrariety of images: any thing so remote as the Parker House and the Place Royale, the learned, pious abbé and the "gentlemanly clerk," not to speak of the unlikeness of the dusty, thirsty traveler from St. Louis, Missouri, to the royal Louis who was going so bravely to his miserable fate, can scarcely be imagined. It was too good to be immediately appreciated. It takes a long process of reasoning in an ordinary mind to follow the lightning-flash of quick wit which flew through this unusually brilliant brain, producing such a series of pict ures. Accident sometimes brings about a very good and unusual pun. A lady was sitting in a drawing-room playing with a kitten; a gentleman entered with a print of Correggio's picture of the "Magdalen with the Skull." The lady said: "See, she has the same attitude as my kitten." "Yes," said he, "and, like her, she is thinking over her fore-paws" (faux-pas). Here was a remarkable piece of good luck in the possibility of bringing a kitten and Imagine the whirl of images which must have rushed through his brain before he got to that idea! The whole Pacific; those lone- | the Magdalen into juxtaposition. ly islands; the dusky monarch and his bride; the royal savage pageantry of an island funeral, with its palm-branches and monotonous chants; the half-naked tropical inhabitants | luxury, excitement, flowers, music, fair womhated cold weather, made a contrary application of this familiar joke. "It is one of the many inducements to lead a bad life," said he, "that the dreadful place is always so comfortably heated." meeting death, as savages always do, with superstitious dread and unlawful rites; the sea, making a dirge on the shelly shore of Honolulu-all was quickly contrasted with the trig serving-man in a London chop-house, and the king of terrors transformed into a customer, of sober British mien, who demands the conventional sandwich! It is the perfection of wit, the height of contrast, "the sudden juxtaposition of contradictory ideas," as Dr. Johnson defines it. The late John Van Buren, one of the wittiest of men, had this very ready response. He was master of repartee. Once, in making a speech, he drew a picture of the evil effects of a certain measure, which would be sure to defeat the candidate. Some antagonistic politician who was listening said, "Who did that in 1848?" John Van Buren remembered instantaneously that his illustrious father had done that very thing, but his quick wit saved him. "I don't remember the gentleman's name," said he, "but I think it lost him his election!" A splendid piece of memory like this -being able to forget one's own father's name-was not to be ignored. The crowd laughed and applauded such wonderful readiness. A gentleman in Boston, on being asked at the Parker House, after the Maine liquor-law was enforced, and the persons who wished for brandy-and-water were obliged to go to a Another bit of quick wit occurred at a New York dinner-party (where many good things are struck off in the electric air of en, and good wine), where some one spoke of a very large and powerful man, who had crooked legs. "But his head," said she, "and his figure, otherwise, are after the antique." "Probably after the Farnese Hercules," said a listener. This is quite as good as the story of Madame de Staël's large feet. She went to a fancy ball as Minerva. "How shall you know your goddess?" said one of her admirers to another. "Par le pied - de - Staël," was the ready response. This is another piece of good luck, for, had she gone otherwise than as a goddess, she would not have needed a pedestal. After General Scott's famous "plate of soup," some wit dubbed him "Marshal Tureen." One witticism often brings on another. When a famous and very obnoxious criminal was being executed, or had just been executed, in New York, a gentleman quoted Charles Lamb's witty letter to a friend, à propos of just such another event. "Now, he has about reached Sirius," Lamb says, in the imagined flight of the cul prit's soul. "Yes," said another, "and he had better stop there to get accustomed to the country and the climate." Allusions to hot climates and the inferno are very common in American wit, and often vulgar and profane. One gentleman, who This ready wit, this quick action of the brain, is also repeated in that more useful and uncommon gift of being able to remember a date, a poetical quotation, or a conversation, when you wish to. Some people can quote so well and so readily, that it is as good as original wit. Many familiar lines of poetry can be thus pressed into new and witty use; as, when some artists and architects were talking together about their orders, and one of the latter said he had an order for one church, but he wished he had two, an artist quickly answered, "Insatiate architect, will not one suffice?" - the use of "architect" for "archer" being near enough to euphony - if quickly spoken. But this ready wit is not the property of us all; if it were, every dinner-party would be a Utopia, every lonely country-house would become a charming theatre, in which comedy of the highest order would be constantly en- acted; ennui would entirely cease; a rainy day Twould not be dreaded. Happy was that Lon T don gentleman into whose house Theodore Hook intruded with Mr. Terry, on a wager, and, after dining and making the company ache with laughter, sat down and sang an improvised song, ending with the words "We are very much pleased with our fare, My friend is Mr. Terry, the player, How gladly should we welcome such an in- That would be a Utopia where there should be no more argument on the "Man in the Iron Mask; "the authorship of Junius; the Roger-Tichborne case; the Beecher - Tilton trial; or whether there are more leaves on the trees this summer than there were last; whether it is warmer, colder, or wetter, or drier, than it was last summer; no more arguments (with attempts to convince) on the subjects of religion, politics, beauty, the arts, or the "character of the late Horace Greeley." No one is ever convinced by argument, as it is usually conducted, but every one rises after a wordy battle much more convinced of his own opinion. Arguments on the propriety of certain phrases, the use of words, the propounding of certain revolutions in well-established customs, leading to angry debate, are very tiresome. So long as such discussions merely lead to short conversations, they are amusing; so long as they are treated dispassionately, they are useful; but the moment they become long, angry disOntes, as argument among the illogical is apt o do, they are tedious. It is no Utopia to ive with two such disputants, or with one or any. Some hungry argufiers snap you up you advance an opinion, as a dog does a one. "I defy you to prove this," says one, nd you are launched on an argument. "The legation is false and the allegator knows | "said one such conversational shark. "I Id not know that alligators knew any thing," id his opponent. There is another Utopia which many peo- | Utopia of a good climate remains as yet un ple sigh for and never attain, and that is- verse: "A grief without a pang, void, dark, and drear, How many a person has gone through life Then, again, another Utopia to be sighed That would be a Utopia, indeed, where one never had to ask for money; not to have to beg for charitable purposes; not to have to demand of an already depleted exchequer the necessary medium for paying a bill! It is a very astonishing, and it would seem to be unnecessary, cruelty to the human race that so much more money is always needed than is ever forthcoming. Another Utopia would be a world in which "Rank is but the guineas' stamp, with a genuine Scottish accent and a great All tasks, all professions, are honorable, conquered. Our American climate is a thing The English climate is said to be depressing, inclining one to that disease known as the "dismal dumps," but it is far better than ours, as witness the contented, rosy faces of the average English person as compared with our knitted brows and anxious, unhappy faces, as a race. Therefore the Utopia for all men would be that power to travel which would enable every man to find his own climate. There is a climate somewhere for all of us. Some find it at Nice, some at Baden-Baden. Some love the sea, others hug the mountains; but by a certain sarcasm of Destiny those who love the sea are obliged to live in the mountains, and those who sigh for the mountains are chained to the oar, and must live near the sea. The most perfect climate for all would seem to be that soft, mild coolness of Switzerland, where the glaciers temper the summer heats, but do not keep the flowers from blossoming at their very feet. Northern Italy has a very lovely climate. That of Rome is seductive, yet dangerous. Our American June, and September, and October, are very Utopian, but there we stop. Nothing can safely be predicted of the other months, except change and direful disappointment, although we occasionally have a better and a nobler sky than we had hoped for, and perhaps deserved. That would, again, be a long-dreamed-of and deferred Utopia wherein we should learn how to educate the young of our human race to the best advantage. We think, we work, we aim at great things, in this particular; but how few happy, and useful, and well-educated people we produce! There are no colleges, no schools, to which we can send a boy with the certainty that we are doing the best thing for those faculties which have been sent to him. Nay, worse, we make dreadful mistakes. We take a blank sheet of paper, and we fill it with certain characters. The result, we hope, will be good; but very often we read wretch, scoundrel, thief, murderer, where we had written Christian, hero, saint, and warrior. Again, we may not turn out the criminal, but we may make a crippled nonentity, which is almost as bad, because we have not understood the boy. To be sure, we have to contend with that greatest of all mysteries, original sin; but our own mistakes are dreadful. The greatest failures of the human race are the failure to preserve peace on earth; the awkward, and expensive, and The long-sought-for and never reached | wasteful business of war, as a means of set |