Gentle reader, I have told you thus much of Tony's courtship, that you, as well as Tim, might see a few of Katy's blushes. She was as delicately refined in thought and sentiment as you can possibly conceive. Her's was "A beautiful transparent skin, Which never hides the blood, yet holds it in;" so soft, and thin, and white, that you might perceive each pulse as it ebbed and flowed; indeed, whenever her heart was excited by any sudden emotion, the delicate ruby would come and go, till the consciousness of blushing would make her doubly crimson. She would endeavor to conceal her emotions, "But o'er her bright brow flashed a tumult strange, And into her clear cheek the blood was brought, Blood red, as sunset summer clouds, which range The verge of heaven." Good reader, I hate formal introductions, and therefore I have not introduced you formally to my heroine, but since I have let you into the secret that Kate's foible was blushing, I must go a little further; when she did blush, she had a habit, as if to cool her brow, of parting her ringlets, and then, carelessly, throwing them back, there wantonly hung "Down her white neck, long floating auburn curls, The least of which, would set ten poets raving." You are not to consider this a description of Katy's person; when I attempt such a delineation, it will be with a flourish of trumpets, louder and longer than Joshua made, when he encompassed the walls of Jericho and blew them into fragments. At present, you see our Catherine in a simple, neat, white dress, which "Like fleecy clouds about the moon, play'd 'round her." All this time, Tim, that most notorious contemner of beauty, and the man of all others who could most manfully resist loveliness, "in any shape, in any mood," sat drinking in these unconscious exhibitions of Katy's character and mind. He saw not Tony, much less did he hear or imagine what he said. All he perceived was Catherine's face, and those rich, floating curls. It was indeed cruel in Cupid to place him there. At every succeeding blush, a poisoned arrow flew from his silver bow, and Tim's poor heart fluttered in his bosom. Determining for once, however, to out general Cupid, Tim gallantly resolved upon a hasty flight; accordingly, he took himself across the little bridge, and began sauntering away on the opposite hill.