The Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 12, No. 72, October, 1863

nd the figure full of flexible grace, when it turned and nodded to the party. Of course, it could only be Mrs. Lewis, as she at once said, in a honey-sweet voice, and with what seemed to me a f

no line or track of experience, on her broad, tranquil brow, nor was there the hushed, restrained expression left in all eyes that have deeply mourned and bitterly wept. The look was serene and youthful, with such happiness as might come from health and eleme

Mrs. Lewis ceased to attract me, and I only

anciful apartment. She had dozens of birds of all gay colors,-paroquets from Brazil, cockatoos, ring-doves, and canaries; fresh flowers, in vases on the mantel-

hink of nothing but field-lilies, that toil not, and yet exceed Solomon in glory; sometimes it seemed gaudiness rather than glory, only that her brilliant complexion carried off the brightest hues, and made them only add to the native splendor of lip and eye. Then she had a transparent complexion, where the blood rippled vividly and roseately at the least excit

Lewis took a decided fancy to me, and that had its effect. I could not deem her insensible to excellence of some sort; besides, she was a curious study to me, and besides, I had occasion, a

the originality of first observation, and a grace of expression so great that more met the ear than was meant, was still so wanting, either in insight or

erself so that you could think of nothing but sunsets and tulip-beds, when, in pu

e, before he saw me. I used to wear my hair so

ss, and with the perpetual childhood of the large brown eyes, and the clusters of chestn

ever mature

er very sensible. But Hoffman's husband thought he had an admiring wife, and her "ah! ah-s!" were appreciative, whereas Mr. Lewis could be under no such delusion. Once I heard him say, "he cared only for love in a wif

s wife, giving his remarks point and affectionate direction by smoothing

physical ones with the Dominie, who was only too happy to pull the Scotch professors over the coals, and lead to condign execution Brown, Reid, and Stewart, in their turn. Sometimes Lulu would come in, with a bir

he "Ode to Immortality." It was so beautiful, and the images of "the calm sea that brought us hither" so suggestive, that we listened with rapture. Lulu twined oak-leaves into wreaths, sitting at her husband's feet. I don't know whether she heard or not, but, as we discussed afterwar