Absorbed in his own reflections, Auburn proceeded slowly _en route_ down Broadway, until attracted by some gem of art displayed at the window of Colman, he stopped for some moments to admire it, with several other loungers like himself. Turning suddenly to pursue his walk, he found himself very awkwardly _vis-à-vis_ two young ladies. He stepped quickly on one side to allow of their passing—most provokingly, they did the same, and in the same direction; with a half-uttered apology, and in much confusion, Auburn again attempted to give them the _pave_; but now, hemmed in by the crowd, egress either way seemed impossible; and thus the three, so awkwardly drawn together, remained very foolishly, (I speak only for the artist,) looking at each other. There was a spice of mischief, too, mingling with the half-repressed smiles of the young girls, which only added to his embarrassment. In a moment, however, the multitude passed on, and with another glance at our plainly perplexed hero, they did the same. But not from the mind of Auburn did they thus easily glide away. Why throbs his heart thus tumultuously? What sends the sudden thrill through his frame? Those persons less charitable than ourselves, considerate reader, might deem the impregnable fortress of the valiant artist already undermined by Cupid’s random shot. “Heavens, what divine eyes!” suddenly occurred to Auburn, as very slowly he passed on his way. “What a lovely mouth—how much expression!” and his step became still slower and slower. “Fancy never formed aught half so lovely!” Here he paused, undeterminate; then exclaiming almost audibly, “I must see her again, I must know who it is whose breathing charms so far excel even the painter’s art.” He suddenly turned, and swiftly retraced his steps, hoping to overtake the _one_ fair enslaver; for so decisive had been the attraction of the taller of the two girls, that the other, had she been fair as Venus, or even ugly as Hecate, the result would have been the same. On, on rushes the busy throng—a ceaseless tide of human hopes and worldly ambition, cares and disappointments; and on, on presses Auburn. At length he catches a glimpse of that charming figure; not for an instant does he doubt its identity—so on, on he presses, while nearer, still nearer to his eager vision floats the white robe of the pursued. Small respect has he for persons, as he elbows his way through the crowd. Bravo! his aim is now accomplished, and close behind the unconscious maidens he follows in their dainty footsteps. Trinity was open, and into its holy aisles the young girls passed, nor did our hero hesitate to follow. Choosing a seat which commanded a view of the pew into which they had entered, he remained unobserved, gazing upon the object of his sudden passion.