ut I will
give my parole. I promise you, sir," and he turned his face to Jean,
"that I will not in any way interfere with the departure of you and
your ship from Acadie."

"Thank you," said Jean, and he undid the rope and the scarf.

The Englishman arose, walked down to the waterside with Barbe, and with
elaborate courtesy helped her into the boat. He bent his lips over her
hand as he said good-by.

Turning upon him then a laughing face of farewell, Barbe cried: "Never,
never will I pardon you, Monsieur, for consenting to give your parole!"

"Mademoiselle," he answered, "I am your prisoner still, and always."

THOSE OLD LUNES! OR, WHICH IS THE MADMAN?

By W. GILMORE SIMMS

"I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is southerly I know a
hawk from a handsaw."--_Hamlet_.

CHAPTER I

We had spent a merry night of it. Our stars had paled their not
ineffectual fires, only in the daylight; and while Dan Phoebus was yet
rising, "jocund on the misty mountain tops," I was busy in adjusting my
foot in the stirrup and mounting my good steed Priam, to find my way by
a close cut, and through narrow Indian trails, to my lodgings in the
little town of C----, on the very borders of Mississippi. There were a
dozen of us, all merry larks, half mad with wine and laughter, and the
ride of seven miles proved a short one. In less than two hours, I was
snugly snoozing in my own sheets, and dreaming of the twin daughters of
old Hansford Owens.

Well might one dream of such precious damsels. Verily, they seemed,
all of a sudden, to have become a part of my existence. They filled my
thoughts, excited my imagination, and,--if it be not an impertinence to
say any thing of the heart of a roving lad of eighteen,--then were they
at the very bottom of mine.--Both of them, let me say,--for they were
twins, and were endowed with equal rights by nature. I was not yet
prepared to say what was the difference, if any, between their claims.
One was fair, the other brown; one pensive, the other merry as the
cricket of Venus. Susannah was meek as became an Elder's daughter;
Emmeline so mischievous that she might well have worried the meekest of
the saints in the calendar from his propriety and position. I confess,
though I thought constantly of Susannah, I always looked after Emmeline
the first. She was the brunette--one of your flashing, sparkling,
effervescing beauties,--perpetually running over with
exultation--brimful of