know how
idle such gossip is) that she is going to marry her cousin, Alfred
Dinks. He does not deny it. He merely laughs and shakes his head--the
truth is, he hasn't much to say for himself. Bless me! I've got to take
another sheet.

"Now, Abel, my dear, do you know Miss Wayne? I have never heard you speak
of her, and yet, if she lives in Delafield, you must know something about
her. Your father is working hard at his business, but it is shocking how
much money we have to spend to keep up our place in society properly. I
know that he spends all his income every year; and if any thing should
happen--I cry my eyes out to think of it. Miss Wayne, I hear, is very
beautiful, and about your age. Is it true about her being an heiress?

"What is the news--let me see. Oh! your cousin, Laura Magot, is engaged,
and she has made a capital match. She will be eighteen on her next
birthday; and the happy man is Mellish Whitloe. It is the fine old
Knickerbocker family. Fanny says she knows all about them--that she has
the Whitloes all at her fingers' ends. You see she is as bright as
ever. It is a capital match. Mr. Whitloe has at least five thousand
dollars a year from his business now; and his aunt, Patience Doolittle,
widow of the old merchant, who has no children, is understood to prefer
him to all her relations. Laura will have a little something; so there
could be nothing better. We are naturally delighted. But what a pity
Laura is not a little taller--about Fanny's height; and as I was looking
at Fanny the other day, I thought how sorry I was for Mr. Whitloe that
Laura was not just a little prettier. She has _such_ a nose; and then her
complexion! However, my dear Abel of course cares nothing about such
things, and, I have no doubt, is wickedly laughing at his mamma at this
very moment for scribbling him such a long, rambling letter. What is Miss
Wayne's first name? Is she fair or brunette? Don't forget to write me all
you know. I am going to Saratoga in a few days--I think Fanny ought to
drink the waters. I told Dr. Lush I was perfectly sure of it; so he told
your father, and he has consented.

"Do you remember Mrs. Plumer, the large, handsome woman from New Orleans,
whom you saw when we dined at your Uncle Magot's last summer? She has
come on, and will be at the Spring this year. I am told Mr. Plumer is a
very large planter--the largest, some people say, in the country. Their
oldest daughter, Grace is as school in town. She