Passing over several commonplace, everyday applicants, I was at last struck with the interesting appearance of a young lady who could not have attained the age of eighteen. There was, however, a certain expression of the countenance, a lurking devil—if I may use the expression—in her eye, denoting alike ungovernable passions and a reckless disregard of the consequences attending their gratification. The study of human nature for years, and a close observation of all its wire-workings _and mappings of the face_, which my position had a tendency to improve, have made me conversant with many of those signs which the bad passions of the human heart cannot keep in its deep recess, but send forth as warnings to the young and unwary to shun them as they would a pestilence. She gave her name as Caroline Somerville. There were fourteen letters to her address, the postage of which amounted to nearly three dollars. Her correspondence seemed to embrace the four quarters of the globe: for amongst them were two ship letters,—one from Bordeaux, the other from a small town in Scotland. I immediately set her down as one of our best female customers. I think it was on the third day from her first application at the office that I noticed in her handwriting a note addressed to a merchant of this city,—a man of family and reputed a model of his sex, and a pattern for husbands. This excited an unusual excitement within me. What could she have to do with Middleton? There was nothing in common between them. His situation in life, his moral character and standing in society were all opposed to the bare supposition of such a thing. In the mean time, by the usual method, I deciphered the following words: “Pardon the freedom”—“No. 26 Gaskill Street”—“alone, seven o’clock”—“drop a note”: these were all I could make out; but they were sufficient. The character and plots of the siren were no longer a subject of doubt. I knew her as well from those unconnected sentences as if her whole history had been written out before me. She was, in the literal sense of the word, A FEMALE SEDUCER. The next question that presented itself to my mind was, would Middleton pay any attention to her? That he would not admitted scarcely a shadow of doubt: he might probably reply to her note, but only to refuse and remonstrate with her upon the folly and imprudence, if not guilt, of her conduct. I handed him the letter myself: he remarked immediately that it was not one of business. The seal was broken and the letter was read with an eagerness that surprised me. He placed it carefully in his pocket-book and departed. Towards evening Caroline received through me an answer from Mr. Middleton, in which I discovered he promised to meet her. From that period there came a change over his dream of life: I could not but mark the wasted form and haggard looks which others would attribute to different causes. I possessed the key to unlock the truth, but _that_ formed no part of my _vocation_.