tle, that externally, at
least, that distinguished architect could no longer have recognized
the fruits of his own talents.

"This is carrying out to the full, John, the conceits of the
composite order," observed Mr. Effingham, drily.

"I shall be sorry, Ned, if you dislike your house, as it is amended
and corrected."

"Dear cousin Jack," cried Eve, "it is an odd jumble of the Grecian
and Gothic. One would like to know your authorities for such a
liberty."

"What do you think of the _facade_ of the cathedral of Milan, Miss,"
laying emphasis on the last words, in imitation of the manner of Mr.
Bragg. "Is it such a novelty to see the two styles blended; or is
architecture so pure in America, that you think I have committed the
unpardonable sin."

"Nay, nothing that is out of rule ought to strike one, in a country
where imitation governs in all things immaterial, and originality
unsettles all things sacred and dear."

"By way of punishment for that bold speech, I wish I had left the old
rookery in the state I found it, that its beauties might have greeted
your eyes, instead of this uncouth pile, which seems so much to
offend them. Mademoiselle Viefville, permit me to ask how you like
that house?"

"_Mais, c'est un petit chateau_"

"_Un chateau, Effinghamise,_" said Eve, laughing.

"_Effinghamise si vous voulez, ma chere; pourtant c'est un chateau_."

"The general opinion in this part of the country is," said
Aristabulus, "that Mr. John Effingham has altered the building on the
plan of some edifice of Europe, though I forget the name of the
particular temple; it is not, however, the Parthenon, nor the temple
of Minerva."

"I hope, at least," said Mr. Effingham, leading the way up a little
lawn, "it will not turn out to be the Temple of the Winds."

Chapter XI.

"Nay, I'll come; if I lose a scruple of this sport, let me be oiled
to death with melancholy."--SHAKSPEARE.

The progress of society in America, has been distinguished by several
peculiarities that do not so properly belong to the more regular and
methodical advances of civilization in other parts of the world. On
the one hand, the arts of life, like Minerva, who was struck out of
the intellectual being of her father at a blow, have started full-
grown into existence, as the legitimate inheritance of the colonists,
while, on the other, every thing tends towards settling down into a
medium, as regards quality, a consequence of the community-cha