magic circlet, which is the pledge of plighted affection,—­the indissoluble knot, which typifies the union of hearts, which organs were also largely represented; this exceptional delicacy would at any other time have claimed his special notice.  But his mother remarked that he paid little attention to these, and his, “No, I thank you,” when it came to the preserved “damsels,” as some call them, carried a pang with it to the maternal bosom.  The most touching evidence of his unhappiness—­whether intentional or the result of accident was not evident was a broken heart, which he left upon his plate, the meaning of which was as plain as anything in the language of flowers.  His thoughts were gloomy during that day, running a good deal on the more picturesque and impressive methods of bidding a voluntary farewell to a world which had allured him with visions of beauty only to snatch them from his impassioned gaze.  His mother saw something of this, and got from him a few disjointed words, which led her to lock up the clothes-line and hide her late husband’s razors,—­an affectionate, yet perhaps unnecessary precaution, for self-elimination contemplated from this point of view by those who have the natural outlet of verse to relieve them is rarely followed by a casualty.  It may rather be considered as implying a more than average chance for longevity; as those who meditate an—­imposing finish naturally save themselves for it, and are therefore careful of their health until the time comes, and this is apt to be indefinitely postponed so long as there is a poem to write or a proof to be corrected.

CHAPTER XX.

The second meeting.

Miss Eveleth requests the pleasure of Mr. Lindsay’s company to meet a few friends on the evening of the Feast of St. Ambrose, December 7th, Wednesday.

The parsonage, December 6th.

It was the luckiest thing in the world.  They always made a little festival of that evening at the Rev. Ambrose Eveleth’s, in honor of his canonized namesake, and because they liked to have a good time.  It came this year just at the right moment, for here was a distinguished stranger visiting in the place.  Oxbow Village seemed to be running over with its one extra young man,—­as may be seen sometimes in larger villages, and even in cities of moderate dimensions.

Mr. William Murray Bradshaw had called on Clement the day after his arrival.  He had already met the Deacon in the street, and asked some questions about his transient boarder.

A very interesting young man, the Deacon said, much given to the reading of pious books.  Up late at night after he came, reading Scott’s Commentary.  Appeared to be as fond of serious works as other young folks were of their novels and romances and other immoral publications.  He, the Deacon, thought of having a few religious friends to meet the young gentleman, if he felt so disposed; and should like to have him, Mr. Bradshaw, come in and take a part in the exercises.—­Mr. Bradshaw was unfortunately engaged.  He thought the young gentleman could hardly find time for such a meeting during his brief visit.