nd the cocks crow for midnight.

When the long-looked-forward-to Commencement-day was at length looked
_on_, and our heroine tripped up to the platform to read her Essay on
Filial Affection, alas for its consistency! it was not the grin of Pluto
Gripstone staring stupidly at the show, but the smile of Orpheus, now
blessed with a strong beard, that set the recipient of undying fame a
trembling. And now, when the farewell had been said, and Orpheus left to
break his lyre and mourn,--when Pluto had carried home his prize and the
dreary occupation of being as extravagant as possible had
commenced,--they were no notes of weird pathos, but billets containing
many brave promises, that made strong coffee the most delectable of
drinks. Of course all these changes from dreamy reverie to tremulous joy
could not escape the searching eye of Pluto; and of course, when
questioned, no Eurydice of spirit would think of denying the mate for
whom she pined.

Oh, the consternation of the discovery! Oh, the thunders of remonstrance
with which Hades resounded! The wheel of Ixion might whirl, and the
pitchy depths blaze with the fires of indignation, but all this did not
dry the tears of the nymph, nor soothe her bitterness of woe. Every
tenderness that could reconcile, every enjoyment that could wean, was
vainly essayed; mourning for her Orpheus, she would not be comforted.

At last the Plutonian shadows opened to receive the matchless man. It
was with no impossible burst of harmony he charmed away the terrors of
this prison-house of injured innocence. Whatever might have been the
Orpheus of the fabled "long ago," our modern hero was a plain,
business-like man. He thought a great deal of the daughter, but for her
worn-out old hulk of a father he didn't care a button. Married he was
determined to be, _nolens volens_; and that was the long and the short
of it. To a piteous plea to remain and enjoy the old man's wealth, he
turned the deafest of ears. Business required his presence at home;
where business commanded, he obeyed; and that was the long and the short
of that. _He_ didn't propose to set up a museum of deformities, if the
daughter did; or stay to witness a burlesque on the society he was
brought up in, were she never so dutiful.

Oh, the misery of this reality! When shall I forget the anguish on that
cadaverous face, when the terror of the narration? For nineteen years he
had patiently plodded on, despised by the rich, hated by the