lices either, but huge, broad
cubes of solid flesh. A dish of oysters attracted her eye, and she
gobbled them up every one. Toast and hot bread disappeared before her
ravenous appetite. Sponge and pound cake were despatched with fearful
celerity. She took up the attention of one particular nigger, and he
looked weary and collapsed when the supper was finished.

Yet, after all this, Fanny paraded the deck, and had the heart to talk
about the "orbs of heaven," and Shelley, and Byron, and Tennyson, and
Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Fanny Ellsler, and Schiller. Brown was very
glad when she retired to the lady's cabin.

The morning he rose late, purposely to avoid her till the boat touched
the wharf. He engaged a carriage and hunted up the lady's baggage;
fortunately there was not much of it. This done, he escorted her on
shore, and handed her into the coach.

"Now, then," said the one-eyed driver,--he had recently lost his eye
in a fight, on the first night of his return from Blackwell's
Island,--"where away? Oyster House, Merrikin, or Globe?"

"Where are you going, madam?" asked Brown.

"Where are _you_ going?" asked the lady.

"To the American, ma'am."

"What a coincidence!" exclaimed the lady, rolling up her black eyes.

"American House, driver."

"All right--in with you!" cried the one-eyed man, as he pitched Brown
headlong into the coach, slammed the rickety door on him, sprang to
his box, and lashed his sorry steeds into a gallop. In due time they
arrived, and a room was engaged for the lady, and one for her
cavalier.

Brown went up town as soon as he had dressed, to see his sweetheart,
taking particular care to say nothing of his namesake, the fair Fanny.

The next day he was promenading Broadway with Miss S., when he was
confronted, opposite St. Paul's, by a furious man, with black
whiskers, who halted directly in his path.

"Do you call yourself Brown?" asked the furious man, furiously.

"That's my name, sir," said the sandy-haired young gentleman, meekly.

"It's _my_ name, sir," shouted the furious man. "John Brown. Now you
know who I am. Do you know Mrs. Brown?"

"I don't know," stammered the unfortunate young man with sandy hair.

"Who did you come from Providence with? answer me that!" roared the
furious man, getting as black as his whiskers with apoplectic rage.

"I--I took charge of a lady, certainly," stammered the guiltless but
confounded young man.

"You took charge of Mrs. Brown, sir--Fan