e,
loosely worn, and open at the breast. A cotton "sun-bonnet" was the
only covering for her head--her bright amber-coloured hair the only
shawl upon her shoulders, over which it fell in ample luxuriance. A
string of pearls around her neck--false ones I could see--was the sole
effort that vanity seemed to have made: for there was no other article
of adornment. Even shoes and stockings were wanting; but the most
costly _chaussure_ could not have added to the elegance of those
_mignon_ feet, that, daintily protruding below the skirt of her dress,
rested along the flank of the horse.

More commonplace even than her homespun frock was the steed that carried
her--a sorry-looking animal, that resembled the skeleton of a horse with
the skin left on! There was no saddle--scarce the semblance of one. A
piece of bear-skin, strapped over the back with a rough thong, did
service for a saddle; and the little feet hung loosely down without step
or stirrup. The girl kept her seat, partly by balancing, but as much by
holding on to the high bony withers of the horse, that rose above his
shoulders like the hump of a dromedary. The scant mane, wound around
her tiny fingers scarcely covered them; while with the other hand she
clasped the black reins of an old dilapidated bridle. The want of
saddle and stirrup did not hinder her from poising herself gracefully
upon the piece of bear-skin; but hers was a figure that, could not be
ungraceful in any attitude; and, as the old horse hobbled along, the
rude movement all the more palpably displayed the magnificent moulding
of her body and limbs.

The contrast between horse and rider--the old _critter_ and the young
_creature_--was ridiculously striking: the former appearing a burlesque
on the most beautiful of quadrupeds, while the latter was the very
impersonation of the loveliest of biped forms.

It is scarcely probable that the Cyprian goddess could ever have been
brought into such a ludicrous juxtaposition--a shame upon Mercury if she
was! In classic lore we find mention of no such sorry steed; and, for
his counterpart in story, we must seek in more modern times--fixing upon
the famed charger of Calatrava's knight. But here the analogy must end.
The charms of the dark-haired Dulcinea can be brought into no
comparison with those of the golden-haired wood-nymph of the Obion
Bottom.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

A SERIES OF CONTRE-TEMPS.

At sight of this charming equestrian, all thou