’To be or not to be—­that is the question;
  Whether ’tis better in this world to bear
  The slings and arrows of—­’

“I don’t remember the rest; but the whole of this handsome soliloquy expresses my sentiments, and the sincerity with which,

“My dear Ashley,

“I am yours,

“——.”

“No names!” cried Ralph; “now for another:  Good old Bantam!”

“Oh, Mr. Bantam writes this, does he?” cried Fanny.

“Yes, Miss; for which reason I pass it—­no remonstrances!—­I am inflexible; here is another: 

“DEAR RALPH: 

“I need not say how sorry I am to part with you.  We have seen a great deal of each other, and I trust that our friendship will continue through after life.  The next session will be dull without you—­I do not mean to flatter—­as you go away.  You carry with you the sincere friendship and kindest regards of,

“Dear Ralph, your attached friend,

“——­ ——.”

“I like that very much, Mr. Ralph,” said Redbud, smiling.

“You’d like the writer much more, Miss Redbud,” said the young man; “really one of the finest fellows that I ever knew.  I want him to pay me a visit—­I have no other friend like Alfred.”

“Oh, Alfred’s his name, is it!” cried Fanny; “what’s the rest?  I’ll set my cap at him.”

“Alfred Nothing, is his name,” said Ralph, facetiously; “and I approve of your course.  You would be Mrs. Nobody, you know; but listen—­here is the enthusiastic: 

“MY DEAR ASHLEY: 

“You are destined for great things—­it is yours to scale the heights of song, and snatch the crown from Ossa’s lofty brow.  Fulfil your destiny, and make your country happy!”

“——­ ——.”

“Oh, yes!” said Fanny; “why don’t you!”

“I will!”

“Very likely!”

“I’m glad you agree with me; but here is the considerate.”

And turning the leaf, he read—­

“I SAY, OLD FELLOW: 

“May your course in life be serene and happy; and may your friends be as numerous and devoted as the flies and mosquitos in the Eastern Range.

“Your friend, till death,

“——­ ——.”

“The fact is,” said Ralph, in explanation, “that this is probably the finest wish in the book.”

“Were there many flies?” said Fanny,

“Myriads!”

“And mosquitos?”

“Like sands on the seashore, and of a size which it is dreadful to reflect upon even now.”

“Very large?”

“You may judge, my dear Fanny, when I tell you, that one of them flew against a scallop of oysters which the boots was bringing to my apartment, and with a single flap of his wings dashed it from the hand of the boots—­it was dreadful; but let us get on:  this is the last I will read.”

And checking Miss Fanny’s intended outburst at the oyster story, Mr. Ralph read on—­