“When I returned home, I found myself, quite unexpectedly, a lion.  All the neighbors flocked in to see the young man who’d been to college, and in the evening a dozen young ladies—­marriageable young ladies—­called on me.  I tried to have a pleasant time; and should have had, if I had n’t been pulled and pushed, and made a puppet-show of; made to go through all my college exercises, to please the pride of my immediate relatives, and minister to the wonder-loving souls of their friends.  But, though I did n’t want to do all this, though I had much preferred to have sat down and had a quiet talk with one or two,—­talked over all that had taken place during my absence, our lives and loves,—­yet I was obliged to, sir.  I was an Automaton.

“One day,—­it was but a week after I had returned,—­my father took me into his room, and said he had something to say to me.  I knew very well, before he said so, that something out of the usual course was to take place; for, all the morning, he had been as serious and reserved as a deacon at a funeral, and I had caught him holding sly talks with my mother in out-of-the-way places.-I knew something was to happen.

“I sat down, and he did.  And then he went on to say that I had probably had some thoughts of marriage.  I merely responded, ‘Some.’

“He then remarked that every young man should calculate to get a wife and settle down; and that ‘old folks’ had had experience, and knew a vast deal more about such things than young folks did; and that the latter, when they followed the advice of the former, always were well-to-do in the world, always were respected.

“I began to see what he was driving at.  I looked very serious at him, and he a great deal more so at me.

“He talked to me half an hour; it was the longest half-hour I had known since I first measured time.  He expatiated on the wisdom of old people; told me I was inexperienced.  I, who had been to college!  I, who had lived a city life!  I was inexperienced!  But I let him go on-I could n’t help it-you know what I was.

“He then drew his chair closer mine, lowered the tone of his voice, and said,

“‘I’ve picked out a wife for you.  It’s Squire Parsons’ daughter, Susan Jane Maria.  She’ll be an excellent wife to you, and mother to your children.’

“If I had been anything else than what I was, I should have sprang up and declared my own ability to choose a wife for me and ’a mother for my children;’ but I did n’t do any such thing.  I nodded a calm assent to all he said; for you know, sir; I was an Automaton.

“I was to go with my father, that night, and see Susan,—­she that was to be my Susan,—­O, no, not so; I was to be her Jacob.  So, when tea was over, and I had been ’fixed up,’-I was fixed, I tell you,—­father led the way over Higginses’ rough pasture.  I should have gone round, in the road, where it was decent walking, if I had been anybody; but I was n’t any one; I was a—­well, you know what.  I got one of my boots full of water, and father fell down and bruised his nose; but I took off my boot and poured the water out, and he put a piece of court-plaster on his nose,—­a great black piece,—­and we did n’t look as bad as we might, so he said; and so I said, ‘of course.’