JASPER. She was a good wife--ever cheerful and industrious, and made me happy: poor Kate! I was without children for several years; at length my Christine was born, and I have endeavoured, in cultivating her mind, and advancing her happiness, to console myself for the loss of her mother. JENKINS. Where is Christine? where is your daughter, neighbour Jasper? JASPER. She left the cottage early this morning with Lenox, to climb the mountains and see the sun rise; it is time for them to return to breakfast. JENKINS. Who is this Mr. Lenox? JASPER. An honest lieutenant of infantry, with a gallant spirit and a warm heart. He was wounded at Niagara, and one stormy night, he presented himself at our cottage door, pale and haggard. His arm had been shattered by a ball, and he had received a flesh wound from a bayonet: we took him in--for an old soldier never closes his door on a wounded comrade--Christine nursed him, and he soon recovered. But I wish they were here--it is growing late: besides, this is a busy day, friend Jenkins. JENKINS. Ah, how so? JASPER. You know Jerry Mayflower, the wealthy farmer; he has offered to marry my Christine. Girls must not remain single if they can get husbands, and I have consented to the match, and he will be here to-day to claim her hand. JENKINS. But will Christine marry Jerry? She has been too well educated for the honest farmer. JASPER. Oh, she may make a few wry faces, as she does when swallowing magnesia, but the dose will go down. There is some credit due to a wife who improves the intellect of her husband; aye, and there is some pride in it also. Girls should marry. Matrimony is like an old oak; age gives durability to the trunk, skill trims the branches, and affection keeps the foliage ever green. But come, let us in. [_JASPER and JENKINS enter the cottage._ _Pastoral Music.--LENOX and CHRISTINE are seen winding down the mountains--his left arm is in a sling._ CHRISTINE. At last we are at home.--O my breath is nearly gone. You soldiers are so accustomed to marching and countermarching, that you drag me over hedge and briar, like an empty baggage-wagon. Look at my arm, young Mars, you've made it as red as pink, and as rough as--then my hand--don't attempt to kiss it, you--wild man of the woods. LENOX. Nay, dear Christine, be not offended; if I have passed rapidly over rocks and mountains, it is because you were with me. My heart ever feels light and happy when I am permitted to walk with you; even the air seems newly perfumed, and the birds chaunt more melodiously; and see, I can take my arm out of confinement--your care has done this; your voice administered comfort, and your eyes affection. What do I not owe you?