That answer the lady at once gave by presenting Captain Garland to him in the character of her husband.  At the same time, she returned his epistle, and, explaining that circumstances had compelled the captain and herself to marry in a private and secret manner, apologized for the mistake into which the concealment of their engagement had led him.

“A mistake indeed—­a mistake altogether!” exclaimed the baronet, catching at a straw as he fell—­“a mistake into which this absurd fashion of envelopes has led us.  The letter was never intended, madam, to be enclosed to you.  It was designed for the hands”——­

And he turned to Miss Sherwood, who, on her part, took the arm of Reginald with a significance of manner which proved to him that, for the present at least, his declaration of love might return into his own desk, there to receive still further emendations.

“No wonder, Sir Frederic,” said Mr Sherwood, compassionating the baronet’s situation—­“no wonder your proposal is not wanted.  These young ladies have taken their affairs into their own hands.  It is Leap-Year.  One of them, at least, (looking to his daughter,) has made good use of its privilege.  The initiative, Sir Frederic, is taken from us.”

The baronet had nothing left but to make his politest bow and retire.

“Reginald, my dear boy,” continued the old gentleman, “give me your hand.  Emily is right.  I don’t know how I should part with her.  I will only make this bargain with you, Reginald—­that you marry us both.  You must not turn me out of doors.”

Reginald returned the pressure of his hand, but he could say nothing.  Mr Sherwood, however, saw his answer in eyes that were filling involuntarily with tears.

* * * * *

THE BATTLE OF THE BLOCKS.

THE PAVING QUESTION.

The subject of greatest metropolitan interest which has occurred for many years, is the introduction of wood paving.  As the main battle has been fought in London, and nothing but a confused report of the great object in dispute may have penetrated beyond the sound of Bow bells, we think it will not be amiss to put on record, in the imperishable brass and marble of our pages, an account of the mighty struggle—­of the doughty champions who couched the lance and drew the sword in the opposing ranks—­and, finally, to what side victory seems to incline on this beautiful 1st of May in the year 1843.

Come, then, to our aid, oh ye heavenly Muses! who enabled Homer to sing in such persuasive words the fates of Troy and of its wooden horse; for surely a subject which is so deeply connected both with wood and horses, is not beneath your notice; but perhaps, as poetry is gone out of fashion at the present time, you will depute one of your humbler sisters, rejoicing in the name of Prose, to give us a few hints in the composition of our great history.  The name of