predestined, from the beginning of the world, to be her wedded lord. There was a sweet, sequestered spot near her father's mansion, where a number of trees threw a delightful shade over a bubbling fountain. Under the trees was a rustic bench; and this was a favorite resort of the fair Juliet, where she was often found by Pate sitting in the moonlight, and, usually, in a very sentimental mood. One evening, just after twilight, she not being at the house, he proceeded to the fountain, and discovered her sitting on the rustic seat. She seemed pensive, and, when he spoke to her, only answered with a deep sigh. He seated himself by her side and inquired into the cause of her melancholy; but there was no response. He took her left hand in his and lifted it to his lips. As with tender devotion he was about to imprint an impassioned kiss, she drew suddenly back, and dealt him a powerful blow, with her right fist, under the eye, which knocked him from his seat, and he fell on the ground. She then sprang to her feet, and, drawing a bludgeon from beneath her garments, commenced beating him cruelly, regardless of his cries for mercy, until, at last, he was stunned by the shower of blows which descended in rapid succession, and lay senseless on the earth. CHAPTER XXXIII. When Pate became conscious he was in bed, having been carried home by some laborers, who found him in a sad condition, and thought at first that he was a murdered man. A doctor sat by his side, who had bandaged his wounds and bruises, and given proper attention to an arm which had been broken. It was many weeks before he could leave his house; and when he went abroad his bosom was boiling with indignation at the treatment which he had received at the hands of the fair Juliet, who, he believed, was a fiend or a fury in disguise. So intense was his anger at the conduct of the beautiful Amazon that he treated her with the greatest indignity, and, when he met her at church, turned his back on her with a scornful curl of his lip. He publicly accused her of an atrocious assault on his person, and said that she had first knocked him down with her fist, and had then broken his arm, and attempted to murder him with a heavy bludgeon. The greatest enemy which a man may have is the little organ which lies in his mouth just behind his teeth. The experience of M. T. Pate unfolded this truth when, one morning, the sheriff of the county called upon him with two interesting documents. The one was a writ of summons in an action for slander, and the other a similar process in a suit for breach of promise of marriage. He had accused the fair Juliet of an assault on him with intent to murder, which accusation, if true, would subject her to a criminal prosecution. The words spoken were therefore actionable. He had also treated her with contempt; and the poet tells us that "Hell holds no fury like a woman scorned."