Ses I, peartin’ up, “I should like to know if it ar an ’oman; for if it’s any gal that’s ’spectable and creddittable, I could love her like all creashun. Barbry,” ses I, takin’ of her hand, “ain’t I many a time, as I sot by the fire at home, all by my lone self, ain’t I considered how if I _did_ have a good wife how I could work for her, and do all I could for her, and make her pleasant like and happy, and do ev’rything for her?” Well, Barbry she look’d up to me, and seem’d so mornful and pale, and tears in her sweet eyes, and pretendin’ she didn’t know I held her hand, that I could not help sayin’: “Barbry, if that sumbody that keared was only _you_, I’d die for you, and be burry’d a dozen times.” She trimbl’d, and look’d so pretty, and sed nothin’, I couldn’t help kissin’ her; and seein’ she didn’t say “quit,” I kissed her nigh on seven or eight times; and as old Miss Bass had gone to bed, and Kurnel Hard was a snorin’ away, I want perticillar, and I spose I kiss’d her too loud, for jist as I kissed her the last time, out hollered old Miss Bass: “My lord! Barbry, old Troup is in the milk-pan! I heard him smackin’ his lips a lickin’ of the milk. Git out, you old varmint!—git out!” Seein’ how the gander hopped, I jumped up, and hollered: “Git out, Troup, you old raskel!” and opened the door to make bleve I let him out. As for Barbry, she laffed till she was nigh a bustin’ a holdin’ in, and run out; and I heerd Kurnel Hard’s bed a shakin’ like he had my three-day agur. Well, I took tother bed, after havin’ to pull my britches over my shuse, for I couldn’t unbutton my straps. Next mornin’ I got up airly, and Siah axed me to stay to breakfast, but I had to feed an old cow at the free pastur, and left. Jist as I got to the bars, I meets old Miss Bass, and ses she, “Mr. Warrick, next time you see a dog a lickin’ up milk, don’t let him do it loud enuff to wake up ev’rybody in the house—perticerlar when there’s a stranger ’bout.” And Barbry sent me word that she’s so shamed that she never kin look me in the face agin, and never to come no more. Mr. Porter, what shall I do? I feel oncommon sorry and distrest. Do write me. I seed a letter from N. P. Willis tother day in the Nashunal Intelligensur where he sed he had a hedake on the top of his pen; I’ve got it at both eends, for my hands is crampped a writin’, and my hart akes. Do write me what to do. No more at pressence, but remane Wm. Warrick. CHAPTER II. WARRICK IN LUCK. “I’d orfen heerd it said ob late, Dat Norf Carolina was de state, Whar han’some boys am bound to shine, Like Dandy Jim of de Caroline,” &c. Piney Bottom, in Old North State, March 21, this 1844. Mr. Porter,