names, wherein Ralph Barthrop Morton acknowledged the challenge of Richard Doria Feverel, and was his man.  The match came off on a midsummer morning, under the direction of Captain Algernon.  Sir Austin was a spectator from the cover of a plantation by the river-side, unknown to his son, and, to the scandal of her sex, Lady Blandish accompanied the baronet.  He had invited her attendance, and she, obeying her frank nature, and knowing what The Pilgrim’s Scrip said about prudes, at once agreed to view the match, pleasing him mightily.  For was not here a woman worthy the Golden Ages of the world? one who could look upon man as a creature divinely made, and look with a mind neither tempted, nor taunted, by the Serpent!  Such a woman was rare.  Sir Austin did not discompose her by uttering his praises.  She was conscious of his approval only in an increased gentleness of manner, and something in his voice and communications, as if he were speaking to a familiar, a very high compliment from him.  While the lads were standing ready for the signal to plunge from the steep decline of greensward into the shining waters, Sir Austin called upon her to admire their beauty, and she did, and even advanced her head above his shoulder delicately.  In so doing, and just as the start was given, a bonnet became visible to Richard.  Young Ralph was heels in air before he moved, and then he dropped like lead.  He was beaten by several lengths.

The result of the match was unaccountable to all present, and Richard’s friends unanimously pressed him to plead a false start.  But though the youth, with full confidence in his better style and equal strength, had backed himself heavily against his rival, and had lost his little river-yacht to Ralph, he would do nothing of the sort.  It was the Bonnet had beaten him, not Ralph.  The Bonnet, typical of the mystery that caused his heart those violent palpitations, was his dear, detestable enemy.

And now, as he progressed from mood to mood, his ambition turned towards a field where Ralph could not rival him, and where the Bonnet was etherealized, and reigned glorious mistress.  A cheek to the pride of a boy will frequently divert him to the path where lie his subtlest powers.  Richard gave up his companions, servile or antagonistic:  he relinquished the material world to young Ralph, and retired into himself, where he was growing to be lord of kingdoms where Beauty was his handmaid, and History his minister and Time his ancient harper, and sweet Romance his bride; where he walked in a realm vaster and more gorgeous than the great Orient, peopled with the heroes that have been.  For there is no princely wealth, and no loftiest heritage, to equal this early one that is made bountifully common to so many, when the ripening blood has put a spark to the imagination, and the earth is seen through rosy mists of a thousand fresh-awakened nameless and aimless desires; panting for bliss and taking it as it comes; making of any sight or sound, perforce of the enchantment they carry with them, a key to infinite, because innocent, pleasure.  The passions then are gambolling cubs; not the ravaging gluttons they grow to.  They have their teeth and their talons, but they neither tear nor bite.  They are in counsel and fellowship with the quickened heart and brain.  The whole sweet system moves to music.