Wednesday Morning, May 22d."
"I should have said," added Miss Campbell, "that I had simply requested Mr. Wynkoop to send me word about some shawls, when any of the family happened in there, and did not think of troubling him to send a note."
"Let me see," said her father, taking the paper from her hand, "yes! just what one might expect from that young fellow—fine, handsome, plain paper a lady was in question; and one can read the writing as if it were print. Look at it, Lunettes! A promising young merchant—a friend of ours, here. An educated merchant—what every man should be, who wishes to succeed in mercantile life in this country."
"Yes," returned I, "ours is destined, if I do not greatly mistake, to be a land of merchant princes, like Venice of old, and I quite agree with you that American merchants should be educated gentlemen!"
"This young Wynkoop," continued my friend, "is destined yet to fill some space in the world's eye, unless I have lost my power to judge of men. He seems to find time for everything—the other evening he was here—(the girls had some young friends)—and, happening to step into the library, I found him standing with one of the book-cases open, and just reaching down a volume—'I beg your pardon, sir, if I intrude,' said he, 'but I was going to look for a passage in the "Deserted Village," as I am not so fortunate as to possess a copy of Goldsmith.' Of course I assured him that the books were all at his service, and apologized for closing the door, and seating myself at my desk, saying that a rascally Canadian lawyer had sent me a letter so badly written that I could scarcely puzzle it out, and that his bad French was almost unintelligible at that. I confess I was surprised when he offered to assist me, saying very modestly, that nothing was more confusing than patois to the uninitiated, but that he had chanced to have some experience in it. So he helped me out very cleverly, in spite of my protestations at his losing so much time, and when he found he could not aid me farther, looked up his lines, put back my book, and quietly bowing, slipped out of the room. When I went back to the girls, later in the evening, I heard my young friend singing with some lady, in a fine clear voice, and, soon after, discovered him in another room dancing, 'money musk' with my own wife for his partner!"
While this little sketch was in progress of narration, the inspection of the miscellaneous display upon the table had been silently progressing. And each pretty critic had made some discovery.
"Here is a 'regret' sent for the other night," said Fanny, "what do you think of that, Col. Lunettes?" And a large sheet of note paper was put into my hand, clumsily folded, and containing only the words "Mr. Augustus Simpkin regrets."
"A good deal is left for the imagination," I replied, "regrets what?"
"That he is a numskull, perhaps, but I fear there is not that encouragement for his improvement!" broke in the Chairman of this Committee of Investigation.
The general laugh that followed this spicy comment had no sooner subsided, than another note caught my eye, by its handsome penmanship. Glancing it over, I handed it to one of the young ladies without comment. She 'looked unutterable things,' as she quietly refolded the missive, and was about to slip it out of sight; but the dancing eyes of the lively Fanny had caught the whole movement, and she insisted upon what she called fair play. So the paper was again subjected to perusal—this time aloud.