ant
in his nature that he could not tolerate the same quality in another,
even where their views coincided.

"By this time several weeks had passed away. It was the beginning of
July, and the long summer heats had come. I was driven out of my attic
during the middle hours of the day, and the others found it pleasanter
on the doubly shaded stoop than in their chambers. We were thus thrown
more together than usual--a circumstance which made our life more
monotonous to the others, as I could see; but to myself, who could at
last talk to Eunice, and who was happy at the very sight of her, this
'heated term' seemed borrowed from Elysium.

"I read aloud, and the sound of my own voice gave me confidence; many
passages suggested discussions, in which I took a part; and you may
judge, Ned, how fast I got on, from the fact that I ventured to tell
Eunice of my fish-bakes with Perkins, and invite her to join them. After
that, she also often disappeared from sight for an hour or two in the
afternoon."

----"Oh, Mr. Johnson," interrupted Mrs. Billings, "it wasn't for the
fish!"

"Of course not," said her husband; "it was for my sake."

"No, you need not think it was for you. Enos," she added, perceiving the
feminine dilemma into which she had been led, "all this is not necessary
to the story."

"Stop!" he answered. "The A. C. has been revived for this night only.
Do you remember our platform, or rather no-platform? I must follow my
impulses, and say whatever comes uppermost."

"Right, Enos," said Mr. Johnson; "I, as temporary Arcadian, take the
same ground. My instinct tells me that you, Mrs. Billings, must permit
the confession."

She submitted with a good grace, and her husband continued:

"I said that our lazy life during the hot weather had become a little
monotonous. The Arcadian plan had worked tolerably well, on the whole,
for there was very little for any one to do--Mrs. Shelldrake and Perkins
Brown excepted. Our conversation, however, lacked spirit and variety. We
were, perhaps unconsciously, a little tired of hearing and assenting to
the same sentiments. But one evening, about this time, Hollins struck
upon a variation, the consequences of which he little foresaw. We
had been reading one of Bulwer's works (the weather was too hot for
Psychology), and came upon this paragraph, or something like it:

"'Ah, Behind the Veil! We see the summer smile of the Earth--enamelled
meadow and limpid stream,--but what hides s