“So much the better for my plan, which is to arouse the demon of jealousy in his bosom. Write to him immediately, and give him but the shadow of a cause for distrust, and if he is not at your feet as soon as the power of steam can bring him, why, then I will no longer believe in the constancy of man.” “And then I should no longer doubt his affection. But, uncle, what shall I say to him?” “Write a glowing description of me; dwell on the pleasant time we spend together; then, if he does not yield a most loyal and ready obedience to the ‘green-eyed monster,’ I will say he cares for another.” CHAPTER IX. “Why writes she so to me?” The next mail bore Harry the following letter from his own Mary: My Dearest Harry,—I have no excuse to offer for my protracted silence, other than I have been so very much engaged. But I know your kind heart will readily forgive my remissness when you hear all I have to say to you; therefore I must hasten to tell you, first premising that you must not be jealous. Both father and Uncle Pluribusi say that is a most detestable passion—and you know I so dislike any thing that is ugly and disagreeable. But to my confession. There is a friend of mine at present sojourning here—a kind of relative; and a splendid fellow he is, dear Harry. In both form and face he is eminently handsome; then he is so merry—and polite to the highest degree of refinement. His discourse is a perpetual series of neat repartee, elegant compliment, bright thoughts, and happy expression. He has a beaming smile, and a pleasant word for every one; but he anticipates my thoughts, knows the meaning of every glance, and ministers to my every wish before it is formed. Is he not a very paragon? I know you will like him so much, when you become as well acquainted with him as I am. I often tell him he is second in my heart’s best affections. This seems to please him greatly; and he expresses his delight by snatching a kiss. Now, Harry, don’t be shocked! remember, he is a very old and dear friend. Although his very soul seems to be the seat of joyousness, I verily believe he possesses a tolerably large portion of sentiment; and you must not be surprised if you hear I have made a conquest of his heart. I assure you my manner toward him has been free from any thing like coquetry, but I do enjoy his society. The perpetual summer of his mind imparts a corresponding glow and animation to his manner, a lively and genial warmth to all his actions; and his very look seems to say, “Come, let us laugh at a world that only laughs at us.” Would you believe it, Harry? with him for my partner, I often find myself whirling round at some gay party, in the delicious delirium of the waltz. I know you will be charmed to hear this; for you have so often expressed a wish