“Billy, I raly _shall_ die thinkin’ of you and old Troup!” and she throw’d herself back and laffed and laffed; and she looked so putty and so happy ses I to myself: “Billy Warrick, you must marry that gal and no mistake, or brake a trace!” and I swore to it. Well, we then talk’d agreeable like, and sorter saft, and both of us war so glad to see one another till old Miss Bass and Miss Collis come back; and bimeby Miss Collises youngest son come for her, and I helped her at the bars to get up behin’ her son, and ses she: “Good-bye, Billy! Good luck to you! I know’d your daddy and mammy afore you was born on yerth, and I was the fust one after your granny that had you in the arms—me and Miss Bass _talk’d it over! you’ll git a smart, peart, likely gal!_ So good-bye, Billy.” Ses I, “Good-bye, Miss Collis,” and ses I, “Gooly, take good kear of your mammy, my son!” You see I thot I’d be perlite. Well, when I went back, there sot old Miss Bass, and ses she: “Billy, Miss Collis and me is a bin talkin’ over you and Barbry, and seein’ you are a good karickter and smart, and well to do in the world, and a poor orphin boy, I shan’t say _no_! Take her, Billy, and be good to her, and God bless you, my son, for I’m all the mammy you’ve got,” so she kiss’d me, and ses she, “now kiss Barbry. We’ve talk’d it over, and leave us for a spell, for it’s hard to give up my child.” So I kissed Barbry, and left. The way I rode home was oncommon peart, and my old mare pranced and was like the man in Skriptur, who “waxed fat and kick’d,” and I hurried home to tell old Venus, and to put up three shotes and some turkies to fatten for the innfare. Mr. Porter, it’s to be the third Wensday in next month, and Barbry sends you a ticket, hopin’ you will put it in your paper—that is, the weddin’. So wishin’ you a heap of subskribers, I remane in good helth and speerits at presence. Your Friend, Wm. Warrick. CHAPTER III. WARRICK’S WEDDING. Described in a letter by an “old flame” of his. Piney Bottom, this July 9, of 1844. Miss Polly Stroud,