safely over the stormy gulf, and
stand on the shores of bonny, bright Texas; for we feel at home there,
hog-wallows, musquitoes, Camanches and all. Let none dare gainsay Texas
in our ears, for it is the banner state of all the immaculate
thirty-one. Come on, reader, now we have had our say, straight up to the
thriving plantation of Esq. Camford, and behold the wonders this
wonderful land can produce upon the characters of nervous,
delicately-constituted ladies. That buxom, blooming-matron in the loose
gingham wrapper, and muslin morning-cap, who stands on the gallery of
that new and tastefully-built cottage, all overshaded by the boughs of
the majestic pecan trees, giving off orders to a brace of shiny-eyed
mulatto wenches, who listen with reverential awe and attention, is none
other than the hysterical, shaky-nerved Mrs. Camford, whom we beheld
some two years ago bewailing the fate which had brought her to this
awful place, to be poisoned by snakes, mangled by bears, and murdered by
Indians. Listen to her words:

"Thisbe, take the lunch I have placed in the market-basket down to the
cotton-field boys, and ask your master to come to the house soon as
convenient; some people from the States are come to visit us:--and you,
Hagar, go to the garden and gather a quantity of vegetables for dinner.
I will be in the kitchen to assist in their preparation."

The women bowed, and hastened away on their separate errands. Mrs.
Camford now turned to enter the house, when Josephine, her cheeks
blooming with health and happiness, came bounding to her mother's side.
"O, mamma, the young gentleman, Mr. Milder, knows all about cousin
Alice! he has come right from the place in which she resides. He says
she sent a great deal of love to us all, and desired me to write to her.
Perhaps, now we know she remembers us so kindly, you will let me go
north some time, and pay my long-promised visit. Susette and her husband
talk of travelling next season, you know."

All this was uttered in the most lively and animated tone conceivable,
and Mrs. Camford smiled, and answered cheerfully, as mother and daughter
reentered the neat, airy parlor, where our heroine of romance, Miss Mary
Lester, was sitting beside her portly, red-visaged husband, Col.
Edmunds, who had, in early life, been a Texan ranger, and acquired so
keen a relish for the wild, exciting scenes of a new country, that he
would not give his hand (his heart we suppose he could not control)