RODERICK HUDSON
ever, a young Neapolitan prince, I believe, has, after a long probation, succeeded in making himself acceptable. Miss Light has at last smiled upon him and the engagement has just been announced. I 'm not generally a retailer of the gossip of the passing hour, but the fact was alluded to an hour ago by a lady to whom I had been presented, and subjects of interest seem scarcely numerous enough, in Europe, to dispense with the aid of these conversational futilities. I therefore suffered myself to be—as I may say—impressed. Yes, I regret that Miss Light should ally herself with a purely conventional character. Americans should stand by each other. If she wanted a brilliant match we could have organised it for her. If she wanted a fine bright fellow—a specimen of clean comfortable white humanity—I would have undertaken to find him for her without going out of my native State. And if she wanted a big fortune I would have found her twenty that she would have had hard work to make an impression on; money right there in convertible securities—not tied up in fever-stricken lands and worm-eaten villas. What 's the name of the young man? Prince Cantimasher or some such thing!" It was well for Mr. Leavenworth that he was fond of listening to his own correct periods; for the current of his eloquence floated him past the short, sharp, startled cry with which Roderick greeted his anecdote. The young man stood looking at him with parted lips and an excited eye. "The position of woman," he imperturbably resumed, "is certainly a very degraded one in these countries. I doubt if a European princess commands the true respect which
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