s Ralph
Ashley--I'm Fanny's cousin. Come! confidence for confidence!"

Verty smiled.

"My name is Verty," he said; "I havn't any other--I'm an Indian."

"An Indian!"

"Yes."

"Is it possible?"

Verty nodded.

"Why, you are an elegant cavalier, or the devil take it! I'm just
from Williamsburg--from the college there; and I never saw a finer
_seigneur_ than yourself, friend Verty. An Indian!"

"That's all," said Verty; "the new clothes change me. I got 'em at
O'Brallaghan's."

"O'Brallaghan's? The rascal! to sell my suit! That accounts for all!
But I don't complain of you. On the contrary, I'm delighted to make
your acquaintance. Have you been up there?--I suppose you have?"

And the young man pointed toward the Bower of Nature.

"Yes," said Verty.

"Visiting?"

"Yes--Redbud."

"Pretty little Miss Summers?"

Verty heaved a profound sigh, and said, "Yes."

The young man shook his head.

"Take care, my dear fellow," he said, with a wise air, "I saw her in
town the other morning, and I consider her dangerous. She would not be
dangerous to me; I am an old bird among the charming young damsels of
this wicked world, and, consequently, not to be caught by chaff--such
chaff as brilliant eyes, and rosy-cheeks, and smiles; but, without
being critical, my dear friend, I may be permitted to observe, that
you look confiding. Take care--it is the advice of a friend. Come and
see me at Bousch's tavern where I am staying, if my visnomy has made
a favorable impression--Ah! there's Fanny! I must fly to her--the
charming infant."

And the young man gave a farewell nod to Verty, and went on singing,
and making signs to the distant Fanny.

Verty gazed after him for a moment; then heaving another sigh much
more profound than any which had yet issued from his lips, went slowly
on toward the town--his shoulders drooping, his arms hanging down, his
eyes intently engaged in staring vacancy out of countenance. If we are
asked how it happened that the merry, joyous Verty, whose face was
before all sunshine, now resembled nobody so much as some young
and handsome Don Quixote, reflecting on the obduracy of his Toboso
Dulcinea, we can only reply, that Verty was in love, and had not
prospered lately--that is to say, on that particular day, in his suit;
and, in consequence, felt as if the world no longer held any more joy
or light for him, forever.

With that bad taste which characterizes the victims of this delusion,
he cou