Hearing this, Tilghman became suddenly conscious of the ludicrous figure he made, and glanced quickly from face to face. The first countenance his eyes rested upon was that of the young man who had been his stage companion; near him was a lady who had thrown back her veil, and whom he instantly recognized as Helen Walcot! She it was who stood behind him when the clerk ejected him from his chair, and she had been both an ear and eye-witness of his sayings and doings since he dropped into his present place at the table. So much had his conduct affected her with a sense of the ridiculous, that she could not suppress the smile that curled her lips; a smile that was felt by Tilghman as the death-blow to all his hopes of winning her for his bride. With the subsidence of these hopes went his appetite; and with that he went also—that is, from the table, without so much as waiting for the dessert. On the forward deck he ensconced himself until the boat reached South Amboy, and then he took good care not to push his way into the ladies' car, a species of self-denial to which he was not accustomed.
Six months afterwards—he did not venture to call again on Miss Walcot—Tilghman read the announcement of the young lady's marriage to a Mr. Walker, and not long afterwards met her in company with her husband. He proved to be the traveling companion who had been so disgusted with his boorish conduct when on his last trip to the east.
Our young gentleman has behaved himself rather better since when from home; and we trust that some other young gentlemen who are too much in the habit of "taking care of number one" when they are among strangers, will be warned by his mortification, and cease to expose themselves to the ridicule of well-bred people.
A HINDOO BELLE.
BY J. E. P.
Come, see Ro Appo, my sweet Hindoo belle;
On Burra deen, a holiday, full dressed,
Glittering with gems, she shineth in the sun,
Superior far to maidens of the west.
Her Dahka veil, light as the fleecy cloud,
Enshrines her form in fairy-like attire
Her every move is made with Eastern grace,
She walks a queen of beauty with her lyre
O'er the Midan, or in the cooler shade
Of scented shrubs or spreading banian grove,
Touching the strings where music sleeps till when
She wakes all into song of joy and love.
See her maunteeka,[C] with its splendid star,
Throws radiating beauty from her brow,
Where diamond amethyst and emerald beams
Blend with the pride that sparkles from her now.
Her champank necklace, glittering round her neck,
Loose dangles down low on her glowing breast,
Whose rise and fall, as inward passion stirs
Oft, like the Ganges, drown its zealous guest.
See, as she raises slow her tiny hand,
How rich her fingers are in jewels rare!
Her thumb she nears, for in her inah[D] glass
She loves to see her beauty shining there
Music is in her step, for, as she stirs,
Listen to Paunjcho merry, tinkling bell,
Betaking well the native cheerfulness
Of my sweet-tempered Hindostanee belle.
I love to see thee in thy pride of show;
Thy sable face, illum'd with Eastern smile,
Wins o'er my soul, in spite thy Pagan creed,
To court thy heart and worship thee awhile.
Doff off thy dark idolatry, and come,
Be one with me; be married, and deride
Thy parents' wrath, thy Bramin's deadliest curse;
Join Europe and Asia, bridegroom and the bride.