rejecting all offers of furs and extra wrappings.  O dear, no! She never thought of muffs, tippets, snow-boots, but as encumbrances fit for extreme old age and infirmity.  She always walked fast, and the more the wind blew, the warmer she felt, I might be assured.  As soon as she had gone, I established myself in comfort by the side of a glowing grate, happy but for dreading her return.  She came in dreadfully fresh and breezy from the outer air, very energetic, very noisy, and fully bent upon stirring me up and making me take exercise.  After snapping the door open and slamming it behind her with a clap that greatly disturbed my nerves, she exclaimed in a stentorian voice, “O dear me!  I shall die in such an oven!  My dear child, you have no idea how hot it is!” And the first thing I knew, up would go a window with a crash that made the weights rattle.  It might rain or shine; weather made no difference to this inveterate air-seeker.  Many a time has she come in all dripping, and tracking the carpet, brushed carelessly against me with her wet garments, and finally enveloped me with the steam arising from them as they hung around my fire.  It roused my indignation that she should make herself and every body else so uncomfortable, and then glory in the deed as if it were indubitably and indisputably praiseworthy.  She was so good-natured, however, and so happy in her delusion, that I could not find it in my heart to remonstrate very vehemently, except when she would make me listen to her interminable lectures upon the importance, the necessity, of fresh air, and the effect of a snug, cosy room upon the blood, the heart, the lungs, the head, and (as I verily believe she hinted) the temper.  I know I lost all control of mine long before she finished; but whether it was the want of fresh air in practice, or too much of it in theory, I leave you to imagine.

My friend always carried a small thermometer in her trunk, which she consulted a dozen times an hour, in order to regulate the temperature of the room.  Alas for me if the quicksilver rose above 60!  I devoutly hoped she would leave it behind in some of our numerous stopping-places, and with an eye to that possibility, I must confess, I hung it in the most out-of-the-way corners I could find; but it seemed to be on her mind continually.  She never forgot it, and always packed it very carefully, too.  I asked her two or three times to let me put it in my trunk, where I had slyly arranged a nice little place full of hard surfaces and sharp corners, but she always had plenty of room.

I believe my zealous friend is now residing at the sea-shore, freezing in the cold sea-winds, and losing her breath every morning in the briny wave, under the strange illusion that she is improving her health.

FAREWELL.

  They tell me my hat is old! 
    I scarce believe it so;
  But since I’m uncivilly told
    The dear old thing must go,
  I bid thee farewell, old hat,
                         Good hat! 
  Farewell to thee, good old hat!