the
consummation of our engagement evinced their character, and also her
grandeur and nobility of soul:--

"I have endeavoured to solve, honorably, conscientiously and
judiciously, the greatest problem of human life; and God and the holy
angels have assisted me in thus solving. Friends may forsake me, and the
world prove false, but the sweet assurance that I have your most devoted
love, and that that love will strengthen and increase in proportion as
the regard of others may diminish, is the only return I ask."

What vows I uttered in the secret chambers of my heart as I read the
above and similar passages of that letter, let the reader imagine who
may be disposed to credit me with the least aptitude of appreciating
whatsoever in human nature is grand and noble, or in the human spirit,
which is lovely, and true, and beautiful, and of good report.

Throughout the letter there was also a tone of gentle sadness--not that
of regret for the course in contemplation,--but that which holily
lingers around a loving heart, which, while it gives itself away, may
not even lightly inflict the slightest pang upon other hearts to which
it has long been bound by dearly-cherished ties.

But family opposition was not the only opposition which Miss King
expected to, or did indeed encounter. Whoever sought to marry yet, and
did the deed unblessed or uncursed of public praise or wrath? And aside
from extraordinary circumstances, it is so pleasant to dip one's finger
into a pie matrimonial.

The following paragraph of a letter written to me by Miss King a few
days after I left her in December, amused me much,--it may possibly
amuse the reader:--

"Professor,--You would smile if you only knew what an excitement your
visit here caused among the good people of Fulton. Some would have it
that we were married, and others said if we were not already married,
they were sure that we would be; for they knew that you would not have
spent a whole week with us if there had been no love existing between
you and myself. Some of the villagers came to see me the day after you
left, and begged of me, if _I were determined to marry you, to do so at
once, and not to keep the public in so much suspense_."

Friend, have you ever heard or read of anything which came nearer to
clapping the climax of the ridiculous than this most singular appeal
couched in the last clause of this quotation, to the benevolence of Miss
King? Certainly, if anything could have