Something he saw there made him feel for a moment ashamed. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. “Hey, John. " "Don't mind us, Ma'am," said Mr. Mirrors. I awaken easily. "There's nothing in his clothes. His features were regular, and finely-formed; his complexion bright and blooming,—a little shaded, however, by travel and exposure to the sun; and, with a praiseworthy contempt for the universal and preposterous fashion then prevailing, of substituting a peruke for the natural covering of the head, he allowed his own dark-brown hair to fall over his shoulders in ringlets as luxuriant as those that distinguished the court gallant in Charles the Second's days—a fashion, which we do not despair of seeing revived in our own days. "I'll soon settle this business.
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