I began to roll, to braid, to puff; I planted hair-pins in my head as
thick as bean-poles in a garden. Heavy braids--expensive but
lovely--fell down the back of my head; fluff on fluff shaded my lofty
forehead. I say nothing; but my literary success, great as it is, has
not been more satisfactory than this.

I put on that dress in a great hurry, for Cousin E. E. was at the door
in her carriage. How it glistened in the glass! How it swept out on the
carpet, a peacock's tail is a trifle compared to it! I tucked it up; I
turned the lining inside out, pinned it, puckered it round the waist,
and then put on my new bonnet, which looked like a black beehive with a
bird perched on the top. Then, with a burning heart, that fairly turned
against it, I put on my waterproof cloak and pulled the hood over my
poor bonnet.

I opened my cotton umbrella, and went down. Cousin E. E. was waiting,
and a tall fellow in half regimentals held the door open. I jumped in as
spry as a cricket, and away we went.

X.

DOWN THE BAY.

The _Mary Powell_ lay huddled up close to the wharf, with a great white
flag crossed with blue stripes at one end, and the glorious old
star-spangled banner at the other. In fact, she was all dressed out in
flags. They were soaked through and through till their slimpsiness was
distressing. In fact, the steamboat looked like a draggled rooster with
no fence or cart to hide under.

The committee were all there, with a whole swarm of ladies in waterproof
cloaks, huddled together like chickens in a coop. There were generals,
too, with gold epaulets on their shoulders: one that I'd heard of in the
war, General McDowell, and some others, that lighted up the deck a
little with their gold lace and sword-handles.

She moved--I mean the _Mary Powell_. The sea was gray, the sky was
black. Now and then I saw a flag fluttering by on some vessel, like a
poor frightened bird searching for shelter, and pitied it. Then all at
once bang went a gun. I hopped right up, and screamed out:

"What's that?"

"The salute," says a gentleman close by me. "A salute for the Grand
Duke."

I sat down astonished.

"Sir," says I, "I can't believe it. I--I've been saluted myself before
this, and I know what it is. No human lips could have made that noise."

The man looked at me, and puckered up his lips a trifle, as if he were
trying to choke back a laugh.

"I'm speaking of guns," says he, "not the sweet little salutes in your