ard. He
coughed, and thrust the letter into his pocket, and moved on again. The
exciting events of the morning had made Bog intensely nervous. He did
not stop this time until he had gained his home.

His aunt was sitting in the front room, reading a book through a huge
pair of silver-rimmed spectacles. There was a thick fold of flannel
about her neck, and she smelt strongly of embrocation. As Bog rushed
into the room, she groaned audibly, and laid down the book, as if it
were a wicked enjoyment.

"I'm so bad to-day, Bog," said she. "Them shootin' pains'll be the death
of me."

Bog responded not a word, but dashed across the apartment, and, entering
his little sleeping room, closed the door, and bolted it.

"Unfeelin' creetur!" said his aunt. She stopped groaning, and took up
her book and read again.

Bog seated himself on his hair trunk, and drew out the letter. There was
a slight discussion within him on the abstract question of his right to
open it. After turning it over twice, the question was decided in the
affirmative. He slit the envelope with his thumb, and brought to light a
billet faultlessly written, as follows:

"Frederick Lynville begs to present his compliments to Miss Minford, and
to assure her, from the depths of his heart, that his feelings toward
her are only those of the purest admiration for the matchless charms of
her mind and person. He takes this method of explaining himself, because
he has observed with great sorrow that Miss Minford has shown a desire
to avoid him on several recent occasions, when they have accidentally
met in the street. It was Mr. Lynville's blessed privilege, under
Providence, to save Miss Minford's life; but he would not be selfish and
base enough on that account to obtrude himself on Miss Minford's notice.
Mr. Lynville would die sooner than be guilty of that discourtesy. He is
not presumptuous enough to ask an answer to this letter. His only object
in writing it, is to inform Miss Minford that he will not venture again
upon the impropriety of speaking to her first when they next meet. Miss
Minford will therefore be free to drop his acquaintance, or continue it,
as she thinks best. Whatever fate she may decide for him, her happiness
will still be his constant prayer."

* * * * *

Bog was ill versed in the art of complimentary letter writing. But the
villany here seemed to be clumsily concealed. That the letter was full
of danger to the