down (at least by those who chose so to do) with whiskey.  Great hilarity prevailed—­particularly after the introduction of the bottle.  Immediately dinner was over, the tables were removed, the fiddler was called for, and the dance commenced, which was to last till the following morning.  The dance was opened by Isaac and the bridesmaid, with another couple—­beginning with a square four, and ending with what was termed a jig.  From this time forth, until the party separated, the poor fiddler experienced but little relaxation or comfort—­unless in being encouraged, occasionally, by a refreshing salute from the lips of Black Betty; a being of no greater intellect, reader, than a bottle of whiskey.

Some two hours after dinner, the father and mother of Isaac announced their intention of forthwith returning home; and, although seriously pressed to tarry longer, shortly after took their leave of the company—­Mrs. Younker adding, as a farewell speech, “That she hoped to gracious Peggy’d jest make Isaac as good a wife nor she had Ben, and then thar wouldn’t never be no need o’ having trouble;” and wound up by quoting the Rev. Mr. Allprayer as the best authority on the subject.  Younker stood by her side, calmly heard her through, and then shrugging his shoulders with a very significant expression, walked away without saying a word, to the great amusement of the whole assemblage.

As to Algernon, he seemed to take no delight in what was going forward; and though he participated somewhat in the dance, yet it was evident to all observers that his mind went not with his body, and that what he did was done more with a design of concealing his real feelings, than for any amusement it afforded himself.  When not occupied in this manner, or in conversation, he would steal away, seat himself where he was least likely to be observed, and fall into a gloomy, abstracted mood; from which, when suddenly roused by some loud peal of laughter, or by the touch and voice of some person near, he would sometimes start and look around as one just awakened from a frightful vision.  This gloomy abstraction, too, appeared to grow upon him more and more, as the day settled into night and the night wore on, as though he felt some dreaded calamity had been hanging over, and was now about to fall upon him.  So apparent was this toward the last, that even the most careless began to observe, and make remarks, and ask questions concerning him; and some even proceeded to inquire of him regarding the state of his health.  His answers to all interrogatives now became so brief and abrupt, that but few ventured to address him the second time.  Whatever the cause of his present gloomy state of mind, it was evidently not the ordinary one—­at least not wholly that—­for never before had Ella (who was in the habit, since their acquaintance, of observing him narrowly) seen him in such a mood as now.  It was, perhaps, one of those strange mental foresights, peculiar to certain temperaments, whereby the individual is sometimes warned of impending danger, and feels oppressed by a weight of despondency impossible to shake off.