evidently far away from the passing scene, the latter joining in the criticisms on Raymond. "I always said," observed Molineux, shrugging his shoulders, "that he resembled one of the ground hogs of his old command of Bois Blanc, more than any thing human; and hang me if he does not tonight look like a hog in armour." "There certainly is something of the ARMAdilla about him," said Middlemore; "if we may judge from the formidable weapons he brought into the room." "And, notwithstanding his alert retreat, few officers can have made such HEAD against, and shewn such FACE to the enemy," added St. Clair. "True," retorted Middlemore, "there were certainly some extraordinary FEATURES in the affair." "If," remarked Molineux, "he faced the enemy, I am certain he must have kept the boldest at bay; but if he shewed them his back, as from his heated appearance I strongly suspect that he did, he must have afforded the Yankee riflemen as much fun as if they had been in pursuit of a fat old raccoon." "Shall I ask him that he may answer for himself?" inquired Henry Grantham, whose attention had been aroused by the ironical remarks of his companions. "By no means," replied Middlemore, "we have ANSER enough in his mere look." "Ha! ha! ha!" roared Molineux and St. Clair in concert. "Nay, nay," interposed Julia D'Egville, who had listened impatiently to the comments passed upon the unfortunate and unconscious officer, "this keen exercise of your powers on poor Mr. Raymond is hardly fair. Recollect (turning to Middlemore,) it is not given to all to possess the refinement of wit, nor, (addressing St. Clair) the advantages of personal attraction, therefore is it more incumbent on those, to whom such gifts are given, to be merciful unto the wanting in both." This was uttered with marked expression. "Brava, my most excellent and spirited partner," whispered Molineux, secretly delighted that the lash of the reprover had not immediately embraced him in its circuit. "Thank you, my good, kind hearted, considerate cousin," looked Henry Grantham. "Oh, the devil," muttered Middlemore to St. Clair, "we shall have her next exclaiming, in the words of Monk Lewis' Bleeding Nun, 'Raymond, Raymond, I am thine 'Raymond, Raymond, them art mine.'" St. Clair shrugged his shoulders, bit his lip, threw up his large blue eyes, shewed his white teeth, slightly reddened, and looked altogether exceedingly at a loss whether to feel complimented or reproved. "But here comes Mr. Raymond, to fight his own battles," continued Miss D'Egville with vivacity. "Hush," whispered Molineux. "Honor among thieves," added Middlemore, in the same low tone.