resaid, our hero, after breakfast, went like a dutiful son,
directly towards 'Squire Jones's, doubtless for the purpose of taking
ocular survey of the meadow land, mill, and stone wall; but, by some
unaccountable mistake, lost his way, and found himself standing before
the door of 'Squire Jones's house.

The old squire had been among the aristocracy of the village, and his
house had been the ultimate standard of comparison in all matters of
style and garniture. Their big front room, instead of being strewn with
lumps of sand, duly streaked over twice a week, was resplendent with a
carpet of red, yellow, and black stripes, while a towering pair of
long-legged brass andirons, scoured to a silvery white, gave an air of
magnificence to the chimney, which was materially increased by the tall
brass-headed shovel and tongs, which, like a decorous, starched married
couple, stood bolt upright in their places on either side. The sanctity
of the place was still further maintained by keeping the window shutters
always closed, admitting only so much light as could come in by a round
hole at the top of the shutter; and it was only on occasions of
extraordinary magnificence that the room was thrown open to profane
eyes.

Our hero was surprised, therefore, to find both the doors and windows of
this apartment open, and symptoms evident of its being in daily
occupation. The furniture still retained its massive, clumsy stiffness,
but there were various tokens that lighter fingers had been at work
there since the notable days of good Dame Jones. There was a vase of
flowers on the table, two or three books of poetry, and a little fairy
work-basket, from which peeped forth the edges of some worked ruffling;
there was a small writing desk, and last, not least, in a lady's
collection, an album, with leaves of every color of the rainbow,
containing inscriptions, in sundry strong masculine hands, "To Susan,"
indicating that other people had had their eyes open as well as Mr.
Joseph Adams. "So," said he to himself, "this quiet little beauty has
had admirers, after all;" and consequent upon this came another
question, (which was none of his concern, to be sure,) whether the
little lady were or were not engaged; and from these speculations he was
aroused by a light footstep, and anon the neat form of Susan made its
appearance.

"Good morning, Miss Jones," said he, bowing.

Now, there is something very comical in the feeling, when little boys
a