My anxieties were for a most soft-hearted young gentleman,--one Fred Power." "Charley, Charley!" said Fred, from the door, where he had been giving directions to his servant about supper.

"A man can scarce do a more silly thing than marry in the army; all the disagreeables of married life, with none of its better features." "Marry--marry!" shouted O'Shaughnessy, "upon my conscience, it's incomprehensible to me how a man can be guilty of it.

To be sure, I don't mean to say that there are not circumstances,--such as half-pay, old age, infirmity, the loss of your limbs, and the like; but that, with good health and a small balance at your banker's, you should be led into such an embarrassment--" "Men will flirt," said I, interrupting; "men will press taper fingers, look into bright eyes, and feel their witchery; and although the fair owners be only quizzing them half the time, and amusing themselves the other, and though they be the veriest hackneyed coquettes--" "Did you ever meet the Dalrymple girls, Dennis ?" said Fred, with a look I shall never forget.
What the reply was I cannot tell.

My shame and confusion were overwhelming, and Power's victory complete.
"Here comes the prog," cried Dennis, as Power's servant entered with a very plausible-looking tray, while Fred proceeded to place before us a strong army of decanters.
Our supper was excellent, and we were enjoying ourselves to the utmost, when an orderly sergeant suddenly opened the door, and raising his hand to his cap, asked if Major Power was there.
"A letter for you, sir." "Monsoon's writing, by Jove! Come, boys, let us see what it means.

What a hand the old fellow writes! The letters look all crazy, and are tumbling against each other on every side.