"You ask me concerning my cousin, Virginia Bell; her with whose miniature, infantile as it was, you fell so desperately in love, and whom, yet unseen, I promised to yourself. She flourishes, Randolph, and is as beautiful as you could desire; she is yet unengaged in heart or hand, so far as I know; but _you_ know, that the little sly, dear, delightful creatures will complete a whole life-time of love affairs, while fathers, and brothers, and guardians, and affianced lords _unloved_, may be looking on none the wiser. And they will look as innocent, and as demure, and as child-like, as my dear beautiful little enigma of the Black Mantle. "You say you 'hate Yankees;'--my dear fellow, you forget that you and I would be considered Yankees in London or Paris. The national denomination we have abroad, is 'the nation of Yankees,' or the 'universal Yankee nation.' 'Tis galling to our southern pride, I grant you, that we should be a mere appendage, in the eyes of a foreigner, to a people who are totally dissimilar to us. We must brook it until we can outdo them, in literature at least. They are (say many) retailers of wooden nutmegs--unfair dealers, and a canting, snivelling, hypocritical set; tell me where the country is, where the population is growing dense--where means of living are scarce--land high--trades overstocked--professions run down--and manufactures injured by foreign competition, in which the little arts of trade, and 'tricks upon travellers' do not also flourish. Let the population of your 'old dominion' be once multiplied by wholesome legislation, or rather let the yearly emigrants be induced to stay in the land of their sires, and the same cunning usages will prevail. As to the 'canting and snivelling,' you must allow something for the descendants of the Pilgrims. Besides, tell me, liberal sir, if you have not, in the very bosom of your great valley, as genuine Presbyterians and Roundheads as ever graced the Rump Parliament, or sung a psalm on horseback. And to give the devil his due, these same Presbyterians are no bad citizens of a popular government. But there is the lady of the Black Mantle. Observe that she was born north of the Potomac, yet I would wager any thing that you could not look steadily upon her face for one minute, and curse the Yankees as I have heard you do. I know you will say, therein lies the cause of my sudden conversion to Yankeeism. By no means! I had begun to find out that the Yankees had souls like other people, before I had ever seen her.