rse for our Quire,
And with XXVII Pastorals witcht Apollo's Lyre."

"Do you recollect John Norton's funeral elegy on Ann Bradstreet, the Eve
of our female minstrelsy?" interrogated Miss Hurribattle; "there are two
lines in it which are still in my memory:--

'Could Maro's muse but hear her lively strain,
He would condemn his works to fire again.'

What a launch upon the sea of fame! and how sad it is that an actual
freight of verses should be preserved in the ship's hold!"

"Well, well, my kinsman was perhaps wise in trusting none of his psalms
or pastorals to the press, especially as that greatest of poets,
Pope, has since been in the world. But I truly regret that he left no
portrait, nor even so much as an outline in black from which something
might be made up by an imaginative artist. I have judges, majors, and
attorneys, all properly labelled, in the other room, who would be much
improved by a slight dash of the aesthetic element; however, I suppose
it can't be helped now!"

"Not unless you substitute Saint Josselyn for an ancestor, as Mrs.
Hunesley did the other day," said Miss Prowley.

"Ha, ha! it might not be a bad plan to follow out the lady's suggestion:
but do tell the story of her strange mistake."

"Why, you must know that the other day old Doctor Dastick brought his
New-York niece to call upon us. She began to talk to my brother, and
when at last topics of conversation failed, turned to look at the
picture of Saint Josselyn, which could be seen through the open
folding-doors."

"The gentleman whose sole garment consists of some sort of skin thrown
over his shoulders: you must all have observed it as we came in to
dinner," said our host, in parenthesis.

"Well, immediately below the Saint hangs a small painting of Uncle
Joshua, in white stockings, cocked hat, and coat of maroon velvet, the
poor gentleman's favorite dress.

"'Ah!' said Mrs. Hunesley, with her eyes fixed upon the Saint, 'quite a
fine portrait!'

"'Why, yes,' said my brother, naturally supposing she meant the small
picture below, 'a very fine portrait, and a capital likeness of my Uncle
Joshua.'

"'Indeed!' said the lady, with a well-bred effort to conceal her
surprise; 'he was taken in a--a--fancy dress, I suppose.'

"'On the contrary, it was his ordinary costume,' insisted the Colonel.
'I can remember him walking up the broad-aisle at church, dressed just
as you see him there.'

"'I should not have thought it would