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2 “ Humph! not so easy a matter. But how did you hear of their movements and arrangements ?” “ From Monimia Porcher ! The dear little creature gave me a world of news last night, and promises me every assistance. But she is not a favourite with our grandmother, as you know, and con sequently can render me, directly , no great assistance. But you can.” “ Prithee, how ?” “ I have sent word to Paula by Monimia that I will call upon her at ten. I know that she and the old lady are to go out shop ping at eleven. Now, you will call with me. You are a favourite with the grandfather, and you are to keep her off. I want to get every possible opportunity; for T am now determined to push the affair to extremities. I won’t take it as I have done. I shall bring all parties to terms this season, or keep no terms with them hereafter.” “ What! You persist, knowing all your father’s anti-Gallican opinions—his prejudices, inherited for a hundred years !” “In spite of all! His prejudices are only inherited. They must be overcome ! They are surely nonsensical enough. He has no right to indulge them at the expense of my happiness.” “To which you really think Paula necessary ?” “ Can you doubt ! lam a rough dog, you know ; but I have a heart, Dick, as you also know ; and I doubt if I could ever feel such a passion for any other woman as I feel for Paula.” “ She is certainly a rare and lovely creature. lam half inclined to take her mvself.” “ Don’t think of it, you Turk ! Content yourself with dream ing of Beatrice Mazyck. I’ll help you in that quarter, mon ami , and so will Paula. And she can ! They are bosom friends, you know.” “ But, Ned, her grandmother is quite as hostile to the English Buhner tribe, as your fit her is to the Huguenot Bonneaus. You have a double prejudice to overcome.” Not so ! It is the old lady’s pride only, that, piqued at the openly avowed prejudices of my family, asserts its dignity by op position. Let my father once be persuaded to relax, and we shall thaw the old lady. She is devotedly attached to Paula, and, I believe, she thinks well enough of me; and would have no sort of objection, but for the old antipathy to my name.” “ Tou are so sanguine !—Well ! I’m ready to help as you re quire. W hat is the programme.” “ ou must secure me opportunities for a long talk with Paula alone. \ou must keep ofi the dragon. lam prepared to brave every thing—all my father’s prejudices—and will do so, if I can only persuade her to make some corresponding sacrifice for me. I am now tolerably independent. In January, my mother’s prop erty comes into my hands ; and, though it does not make me rich, it enables me to snap my fingers in the face of fate ! lam resolved to incur every risk, at all events. Paula, too, is a fear less little creature; and, though wonderfully submissive to the whims of her grandmother, I feel sure that she will not sacrifice herself and me to them in a matter so essential to our mutual happiness. Things are looking rather more favourable than usual, lheie ha\e been occasional meetings of the two families. The old lady and my father even had a civil conversation at the last tournament; and he has resolved upon a sort of feudal entertain ment, this Christmas, which shall bring together the whole neigh- SUPPLEMENT TO SOUTHERN LITERARY GAZETTE. bourhood, —at least for a day or two. Y r ou are to be there: so he requires me to say, and his guest, of course, while in the parish You must do your endeavour for me while there. It will not he my fault, if the season shall pass without being properly improved Love has made me somewhat desperate.” “Beware, lest your rashness should lose you all. Your father’s prejudices are inveterate.” “I think not. They begin to soften. He begins to feel that he is getting older, and he becomes more amiable accordingly. He talks old prejudices rather than feels them. It is a habit with him now r , rather than a feeling. He barks, like the old dog, but the teeth are no longer in capacity to bite. For that matter, his bark was always worse than his bite. What he says of the Hu guenots is only what his grandfather said and thought. Without the same animosity, he deems it a sort of family duty, to maintain the old British bull-dog attitude, as if to show that his blood has undergone no deterioration. In respect to Paula, herself, he said, at the last tournament, that she was really a lovely little creature, and regretted that she was of that soup maiyre French stock. There are sundry other little favourable symptoms which seem to show r me that he is growing reasonable and indulgent.” Here, w T e were signalled to breakfast, and our dialogue, on this subject, was suspended for awhile. CHAPTER 11. a bachelor’s BREAKFAST. It is not often that our fair readers are admitted to the myste rious domain which entertains a bachelor as its sovereign. They fancy, the dear conceited little creatures, that such a province is a very desolate one. They delude themselves with the vain notion that, without the presence of someone or more of their mischie vously precious sex, a house, or garden, is scarcely habitable; and that man, in such an abode, is perpetually sighing for some such change as the tender sex only can impart. They look upon, as quite orthodox, the language of Mr. Thomas Campbell, who sings— “ The garden was a wild, And man, the hermit, sigh'd, till woman smiled But this is all vanity and delusion. We no where have any testi mony that the condition of Adam was thus disconsolate, before Eve was stolen from his side, in order that she should steal to his side. This is all a mistake. Adam did very well as a gardener, and quite as w T ell as a housekeeper, long before Eve w r as assigned him as a helpmate, and was very comfortable in his sovereignty alone. A\ e know what evil consequences happened to his house keeping after she came into it, and what sort of counsellors she entertained. Let it not, therefore, be supposed that we bachelors can not contrive to get on, with our affairs exclusively under our own management. I grant that there is a difference; but the question occurs, ‘ls this difference for the worse in our case. / Hardly ! There is, confessedly, no such constant putting to rights, as we always find going on in the households of married men. But that is because there is no such need of putting to rights. I here is previously no such putting to w T rongs, in such a home hold. lliere, every thing goes on like clockwork. There is parade, [grant you; but there’s no such fuss! Less neatness;