," and, in short, to stop crying and behave
myself,--only it was said in figures. I'm much obliged to "Quintius" for
the advice; but I should like to explain, that I am subject to the
toothache, and when it is bad I cannot possibly write comic poetry. I
must be miserable, but it's only toothache, thank you!

Then I have heard several times, in the strictest confidence, the whole
history of "A. B., who writes for the 'Snapdragon.'" Somebody told me
she was a lady living on the North River, very wealthy, very haughty,
and very unhappy in her domestic relations. Another said she was a young
widow in Alabama, whose mother was extremely tyrannical, and opposed her
second marriage. A third person declared to me that A. B. was a
physician in the navy,--a highly educated man, but reduced in
circumstances. I think that was a great compliment,--to be actually
taken for a man! I felt it to be "the proudest moment of my life," as
ship-captains say, when they return thanks for the silver teapot richly
chased with nautical emblems, presented by the passengers saved from the
wreck, as a token of gratitude for the hencoops thrown overboard by the
manly commander. However, I called myself a woman in the very next
contribution, for fear of the united wrath of the stronger sex, should I
ever be discovered to have so imposed upon the public; although I know
several old women who remain undiscovered to this day, simply because
they avail themselves of a masculine signature.

There were other romances, too tedious to mention, depicting me
sometimes as a lovely blonde, writing graceful tales beneath a bower of
roses in the warm light of June; sometimes as a respectable old maid,
rather sharp, fierce, and snuffy; sometimes as a tall, delicate,
aristocratic, poetic looking creature, with liquid dark eyes and heavy
tresses of raven hair; sometimes as a languishing, heart-broken woman in
the prime of life, with auburn curls and a slow consumption.

Perhaps it may be as well to silence all conjecture at once, by stating
that I am a woman of----no, I won't say how old, because everybody will
date me from this time forward, and I shall not always be willing to
tell how old I am! I am not very young now, it is true; I am more than
sixteen and less than forty; so when our clergyman requested all between
those ages to remain after service for the purpose of forming a week-day
Bible-class, I sat still, and so did everybody else except Mrs. Van
Doren,