hat was done at my father's request."

"We consider it denationalized, Miss Effingham, there being nothing
like it, west of Albany at least."

"I should be sorry to find that my cousin has subjected us to this
imputation," said Eve smiling--perhaps a little equivocally; "the
architecture of America being generally so simple and pure. Mr.
Effingham laughs at his own improvements, however, in which, he says,
he has only carried out the plans of the original _artiste_, who
worked very much in what was called the composite order.

"You allude to Mr. Hiram Doolittle, a gentleman I never saw; though I
hear he has left behind him many traces of his progress in the newer
states. _Ex pede Herculem_, as we say, in the classics, Miss
Effingham I believe it is the general sentiment that Mr. Doolittle's
designs have been improved on, though most people think that the
Grecian or Roman architecture, which is so much in use in America,
would be more republican. But every body knows that Mr. John
Effingham is not much of a republican."

Eve did not choose to discuss her kinsman's opinions with Mr.
Aristabulus Bragg, and she quietly remarked that she "did not know
that the imitations of the ancient architecture, of which there are
so many in the country, were owing to attachment to republicanism."

"To what else can it be owing, Miss Eve?"

"Sure enough," said Grace Van Cortlandt; "it is unsuited to the
materials, the climate, and the uses; and some very powerful motive,
like that mentioned by Mr. Bragg, could alone overcome these
obstacles."

Aristabulus started from his seat, and making sundry apologies,
declared his previous unconsciousness that Miss Van Cortlandt was
present; all of which was true enough, as he had been so much
occupied mentally, with her cousin, as not to have observed her,
seated as she was partly behind a screen. Grace received the excuses
favourably, and the conversation was resumed.

"I am sorry that my cousin should offend the taste of the country,"
said Eve, "but as we are to live in the house, the punishment will
fall heaviest on the offenders."

"Do not mistake me, Miss Eve," returned Aristabulus, in a little
alarm, for he too well understood the influence and wealth of John
Effingham, not to wish to be on good terms with him; "do not mistake
me, I admire the house, and know it to be a perfect specimen of a
pure architecture in its way, but then public opinion is not yet
quite up to it. I see all