"Why, no, not exactly. I doubt whether we shall ever, really, be formally engaged. I wouldn't be surprised if she told me, an hour before our marriage, that she didn't intend to take me; but then, I know she will. Poor old daddy has frequently volunteered the information that the Pet will never marry a man, who has been guilty of drinking a glass of lager beer. He says she is bitterly opposed to anything that will _'toxicate_, but I suspect the experience she has had with her father has put those ultra notions into her head." "No wonder, Ned; the fact that there are hundreds of such cases as Dr. De Wolf's has influenced my opinion on the subject to a greater extent, perhaps, than any other, and really, I'm glad Miss De Wolf favors total abstinence; I hope she will convert you." "Never, my friend. I shall always adhere to the principle that a man is capable of controlling his appetite, within the bounds of reason. Let a man but _will_ to drink moderately, and he can." "But, Ned, a person seldom _wills_ to drink moderately, but ends by _willing_ to drink immoderately. Now in such cases what becomes of your theory?" "The fact is, Doctor, you and I have so often discussed the subject, that I believe there is nothing new left to be said, on either side. I wish Hank Glutter was here, and he would show you in five minutes, why we should not deprive ourselves of the gifts of Providence, simply because others have abused them." "I pity a drunkard, Ned," said the Doctor, very quietly, "but I despise a drunkard-maker, and the less conversation I have with one of that class, the better." The color quickly mounted to Edward's face, but a loud knock at the door suspended his reply. "Come in," said the Doctor, and in stalked daddy. "'Tween you and me, Mr. Sherman," said he, approaching Edward, "the honey has sent you a letter; here it is." Edward received the letter with a mixture of surprise and pleasure, which he could not conceal. Unfolding it with nervous haste, he ran his eye over the few brief lines. "Good heavens!" he exclaimed, starting to his feet, "Bloody Jim is at Chimney Rock again." Daddy sprang forward, with dilated eyes and open mouth, and fastened his grip upon Edward, who comprehended in an instant why the old man had not been apprized of the nature of his errand, and he resolved on returning him to his former state of blissful ignorance. "Let me see; have I made a mistake?" said he, again looking over the letter, "Bloody Jim is not at Chimney-Rock, after all." "'Tween you and me, what made you think he was?" said daddy, whose panic began to subside. "O, I saw his name, and took it for granted he was there. I did not quite make out what was said." "The billet was writ in a hurry, Mr. Sherman; you must excuse it. The honey is the most distinctest writer I knows on. She got a wonderful edication down thar, in New York; 'tween--