"O, that is Squire Renwick's son, Sam. And he's a knowing one, I tell ye. They say his father wants him to marry; and I suppose he is now arter a wife. If he don't get Barbara Howard, it wont be for want of trying, any how."

"Then he is not engaged to her!" exclaimed Ichabod in a tone of exultation, for which, not having time to analyze his feelings, he would have been puzzled to account.

Engaged to her! no, not he. She has half a dozen beaux dangling after her, all weathers. There's Dick Wilson, the miller's son; Squire Traverse, the young lawyer, at West Allensville; Jim Simpkins, who owns as pretty a lot of land down yonder, as a man would wish to see; Alexander Thompson, who keeps the parish school, and is learning to be a minister; and half a dozen more, besides this dandified chap, as you call him, are trying hard to gain her consent to a partnership for life. They all hate each other like poison, and I really believe would be willing to cut each other's throats, if they dared. But nobody knows which one she will choose for a husband, if, indeed, she will take either of them. Perhaps some stylish-looking stranger will come along, after all, and snap her up."

"Ah, indeed! do you think so?" said Ichabod, instinctively smacking his lips. He turned his head to take another "long, lingering " look at

the beautiful Barbara He caught her eye fixed on him, with an inquiring but arch expression. They both blushed to the eyes; and Ichabod obeyed the natural laws of politeness, by making her a low and graceful bow. He then reluctantly turned away, and in a few moments was trudging resolutely through the snow, towards his uncle's residence, at the rate of four miles an hour.

He was on the way to his uncle's residence; but he was not thinking of his old uncle Timothy, who had been so kind and indulgent to him when a boy, or of his aunt Tabitha, whom in early childhood he had regarded with almost a son's affection, or of his cousins Harriet, and Anne, and Tabitha, junior, and Thomas, and Richard, and Timothy, junior, with whom he had romped and played in years gone by, and whom he had long yearned to greet again with a brother's love. He was thinking of the soul-captivating vision of female loveliness, which had just appeared to him, and wondering whether it was a dream or a reality. Alas, poor Ichabod ! " his time had come."

"And her name is Barbara Howard!" said he to himself; "what a sweet name; just such a name as I should have expected; and what a sweet creature she must be! Oh, there can be no mistaking such a countenance; she must be all goodness, all perfection. Her form, too, I doubt

not, is of a piece with her other charms; all symmetry, all grace; but, as she must live in the village, I will soon satisfy myself on that point. What a shame it is that such an angelic being should be thus persecuted by a set of country fellows, who cannot tell the difference between a cat-head and a cat-harping; and who, of course, never can appreciate her beauty or her worth. Barbara Howard surely is fit to be the wife of a sailor; and Barbara Allen' is a 6 name which sounds prettily when set to music, as many a sentimental youth or sighing maiden can testify."

"In Scarlet towne, where I was borne,

There was a fair maid dwellin,
Made every youth cry " well awaye,"
Her name was Barbara Allen."

In this strain soliloquized and sang Ichabod Allen; a pretty decisive proof that he was completely caught in the snare set by that mischievous urchin, Cupid. But his extatic day-dream, in which were presented in rapid succession to his mental vision bright and laughing eyes, pouting ruby lips, blushing cheeks, and smiles which would gladden the heart of an anchorite, were suddenly and most unexpectedly interrupted. The screams of a female and the jingling of bells were borne to his ears on the wings of the wind. He looked behind him, and lo, the large black horse which he had left

standing at the tavern door, was galloping towards him, along the road, at a furious rate, dragging after him the dashing sleigh, in which was seated the young and the lovely Barbara Howard, whose countenance, but lately so tranquil and joyous, now expressed, in strongly marked characters, terror and affright. The poor girl was screaming for help in a voice, which, although pitched in a high key, was still rich and melodious, and would have excited sympathy in the heart of a marble statue.

Ichabod Allen was remarkable for his presence of mind in cases of great emergency, and he saw the whole condition of matters in an instant. His mode of proceeding was at once determined on. Collecting all his energies, he stood at the side of the road until the horse came up, when he caught him by the bit, and, exerting all his strength, (a property for which he was remarkable,) he tried to check his speed, and, at the same time, cause him to swerve from the track. His effort was completely successful. The horse, on being thus unexpectedly assailed, made a heavy plunge; then sprang to one side, where the snow was several feet in depth, and was easily mastered. But poor Barbara, not being prepared for the sudden check, was thrown out at the side of the sleigh with considerable force, and pitched head foremost into an enormous snow-bank!

The situation of Barbara Howard was an awkward one. Indeed, it may be said that it was particularly awkward; and that instinctive sense of delicacy, which never abandons a woman, under the most trying circumstances, caused her to flounder about in a manner wonderful to behold; inasmuch, that when Ichabod hastened to her assistance, he found, to his astonishment, that she had disappeared, and the only indication of her being in that vicinity, was the convulsive trembling and upheaving of a mass of the congealed element, beneath which, after a little labor, Ichabod found the fair, the affrighted, the blushing Barbara Howard!

After disincumbering her of the snow, and whispering a few words of comfort, the gallant sailor assisted the damsel into the sleigh, and seated himself by her side; he turned the horse's head towards the tavern, and gave him the reins. Barbara felt embarrassed, and her little heart fluttered with a curious feeling, in which were combined pleasure, mortification and anxiety. Ichabod, resting upon the same seat with Barbara Howard, experienced a sensation of delight, to which his bosom had hitherto been a stranger. But a feeling of diffidence, which most inopportunely came over him at the time, and for which he was puzzled to account, prevented him from commenting upon the adven