her and give her a chance to put out her leaves—sunshine, and not east winds.

He was silent—and sat looking at his handsome left hand with the red stone ring upon it.—Is he going to fall in love with Iris?

VI.

The young man John asked me to come up one day and try some “old Burbon” which he said was A 1. On asking him what was the number of his room, he answered, that it was forty-’leven, sky-parlor floor, but that I shouldn’t find it if he didn’t go ahead to show me the way. I followed him to his habitat, being very willing to see in what kind of warren he burrowed, and thinking I might pick up something about the boarders who had excited my curiosity.

The young man John fell into a train of reflections which ended in his producing a Bologna sausage, a plate of “crackers,” as we Boston folks call certain biscuits, and the bottle of whiskey described as being A 1. Under the influence of the crackers and sausage, he grew cordial and communicative. It was time, I thought, to sound him as to our boarders.

What do you think of our young Iris?—I began.

"Fust-rate little filly," he said.—"Pootiest and nicest little chap I’ve seen since the schoolma’am left. Schoolma’am was a brown-haired one—eyes coffee-color. This one has got wine-colored eyes—and that’s the reason they turn a fellah’s head, I suppose."

"This is a splendid blonde," I said—the other was a brunette. Which style do you like best?

"Which do I like best, boiled mutton or roast mutton?" said the young man John. "Like ’em both—it a’n’t the color of ’em makes the goodness. I’ve been kind of lonely since schoolma’am went away. Used to like to look at her. I never said anything particular to her, that I remember, but—I don’t know whether it was the cracker and sausage, or that the young fellow’s feet were treading on the hot ashes of some longing that had not had time to cool, but his eye glistened as he stopped."

"I suppose she wouldn’t have looked at a fellah like me," he said,—"but I come pretty near tryin’. If she had said, Yes, though, I shouldn’t have known what to have done with her. Can’t marry a woman nowadays till you’re so deaf you have to cock your head like a parrot to hear what she says, and so long-sighted you can’t see what she looks like nearer than arm’s-length."

Here is another chance for you—I said. What 

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