which permitted him on the present occasion to tap at the door of Mrs. Atherton with the air of a familiar friend.
"Good morning, Mrs. Atherton," said our hero, as he entered the widow's parlour; "Good morning. How's Lucy?"
The lady, surprised at this unwonted familiarity in the son of the village baker, raised her spectacles , and having gazed at him for a moment in mute astonishment, haughtily replied that Miss Atherton was well. Johnny was glad to hear it ; but before he could express his joy, the offended parent stalked out, and the young lady herself glided in. " She don't know what I came for, or she'd be more civil," thought Johnny as he looked after the proud widow-butthe entrance of the daughter changed the current of his reflections. " How d'ye do, Lucy ?" said the amateur. Lucy was thunderstruck. The young man had never before addressed her in such a strain ; but she had too much self-possession to betray the least embarrassment. She returned his salutation, therefore, with the utmost sweetness and ease of manner, and took her seat, inwardly resolving to penetrate into the cause of the strange revolution which a few hours had made in the dress and address of her visiter. Arrayed in the simple elegance of a morning dress , and adorned with youth, health, and beauty, she bent gracefully over her work, and never looked prettier than at this moment, when an inquisitive archness was added to the usually intelligent expression of her countenance. For the present, however, her curiosity was balked ; for Johnny, who really meant only to show his tenderness, and had already advanced to the utmost bounds of his assurance, began to falter. The courage, which had sustained him thus far, and which some have insinuated was borrowed from a source that temperance societies would hardly approve of, was fast evaporating ; and after sitting some time in silence, playing with his purple watch-ribbon, he drew his violin from its green bag, and inquired whether Miss Atherton would " fancy a tune." The young lady declared that it always afforded her infinite pleasure to listen to Mr. Anson's delightful music ; and in an instant the musical machine started into action- the head fell back, the mouth yawned, the eye-lids closed, and Johnny, the best and drowsiest of fiddlers, added a new proof, that even the tender passion is not sufficiently powerful to overcome inveterate habit. But love did not entirely quit the field, or abandon his votary, who opened his eyes at intervals, and bowed and smirked upon his fair auditress in a manner not to
