that there were no harpers in America, and the very singularity might betray his secret. Music is the "food of love," and Julia fancied for a moment that Antonio might appear as an itinerant organist--but it was only for a moment; for as soon as she figured to herself the Apollo form, bending under the awkward load of a music-grinder, she turned in disgust from the picture. His taste, thought Julia, will protect me from such a sight--she might have added, his convenience too. Various disguises presented themselves to our heroine, until, on a view of the whole subject, she concluded that Antonio would not appear as a musician at all, but in some capacity in which he might continue unsuspected, near her person, and execute his project of shielding her from the dangers of travelling. It was then only as a servant that he could appear, and, after mature reflection, Julia confidently expected to see him in the character of a coachman. Willing to spare her own horses, Miss Emmerson had already sent to the city for the keeper of a livery-stable, to come out and contract with her for a travelling carriage, to convey her to the Falls of Niagara. The man came, and it is no wonder that Julia, under her impressions, chose to be present at the conversation. "Well then," said Miss Emmerson to the man, "I will pay you your price, but you must furnish me with good horses to meet me at Albany--remember that I take all the useless expense between the two cities, that I may know whom it is I deal with." "Miss Emmerson ought to know me pretty well by this time," said the man; "I have driven her enough, I think." "And a driver," continued the lady, musing, "who am I to have for a driver?"--Here Julia became all attention, trembling and blushing with apprehension. "Oh, a driver!" cried the horse-dealer; "I have got you an excellent driver, one of the first chop in the city." Although these were not the terms that our heroine would have used herself in speaking of this personage, yet she thought they plainly indicated his superiority, and she waited in feverish suspense to hear more. "He must be steady, and civil, and sober, and expert, and tender-hearted," said Miss Emmerson, who thought of any thing but a hero in disguise. "Yes--yes--yes--yes--yes," replied the stable-keeper, nodding his head and speaking at each requisite, "he is all that, I can engage to Miss Emmerson." "And his eyesight must be good," continued the lady, deeply intent on providing well for her journey; "we may ride late in the evening, and it is particularly requisite that he have good eyes." "Yes--yes, ma'am," said the man, in a little embarrassment that did not escape Julia; "he has as good an eye as any man in America." "Of what age is he?" asked Miss Emmerson. "About fifty," replied the man, thinking years would be a recommendation. "Fifty!" exclaimed Julia, in a tone of disappointment. "'Tis too old," said Miss Emmerson; "he should be able to undergo fatigue."