“In fact,” I whispered, drawing my quondam acquaintance aside, “to tell you the truth, I am very much in love with her!” “The devil you are!” cried he, with a hearty laugh. “Yes—I fancy she is a most fascinating woman.” “Ah, you may say that,” replied Mr. Templeton, whose name I discovered on the corner of his pocket handkerchief. “Shall we go down now?” said I, for I was very anxious to see her. “Just as you please;” and we were soon in the presence of the fair unknown. She was quite as beautiful as I expected. Mr. Templeton having learned my name, presented me with due ceremony—“Mr. Weston, I’ll introduce you to my wife. Mrs. Templeton, allow me to introduce to you Mr. Weston.” I was thunderstruck! Mr. Templeton enjoyed a hearty laugh at my confusion; but I was too cruelly disappointed to join in it. Making the best apology in my power, I hurried upon deck to conceal my chagrin. It is needless to add that during the rest of the voyage I kept aloof from all company—especially that of the fascinating Mrs. Templeton. I shall not dwell upon my tour through Europe. I spent the winter in France; and proceeded thence through Spain to Italy. Nearly a year was devoted to this part of my continental ramble. After my visit to Italy I embarked for England, whence I proceeded to the highlands of Scotland. I spent an adventurous season here; and set sail for America. Three years of my early life thus glided away. On my journey home, I passed through W——. Captain Wilton, I learned, had died about a year previously, of an apoplectic stroke. Corinna had married a country merchant, a month after my departure. Her fortune was only nominal; the Captain having deeply involved himself in debt; but she made amends to her disappointed spouse by presenting him, a few months after their marriage, with a fine pair of twins. So much for the charms of lucre! My old friend Desmond informed me of various changes which had taken place during my absence. I shall only allude to one or two, in which the reader may feel an interest. Mr. Martagon, the poet, won the heart of a Southern lady, rich, accomplished and beautiful. The natural result was marriage; although, in extenuation, he wrote a poem, in the style of Ovid, showing that such a course was necessary at a certain period of life. Miss Emily Melville became a nun; and enjoyed thenceforth the quiet charms of a life of peace and devotion. “——Waking as in sleep, She seemed but now a lovely dream; A star that trembled o’er the deep, Then turned from earth its tender beam.” My early flame, Miss Virginia Melville, at length found one whose talents she admired—whose virtues and personal gifts won her affection. She discovered that love, with all its follies, is neither unnatural or improper; and in yielding her hand to the possessor of her heart, found that the greatest source of happiness, in this life, is the pure and sacred affection of two devoted souls.