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or rational, ardent or cold, pathetic or comic—and the comic style is by far the most popular among the ladies—will have some little novelty about it.

Without, however, dwelling upon this, it is certain that one of the easiest things in the world for a man to do, is that of proposing to a widow. She understands it so well. She knows so exactly what you mean, and what you are anxious to say; and helps you over any little difficulty with so much tact, that it's really quite delightful. Yes; a widow most certainly affords every possible assistance to a man in this position. But while it is certain that the easiest proposal a man can make is that which is made to a widow, it is equally certain that by far the most difficult is that which a man has to make to an old maid.

Now, albeit Aunt Eleanor was an old maid, it is highly correct to cause it to be distinctly understood that she was not so particularly antiquated as some may imagine. No! she was upwards of forty; but although the exact age of a single lady above forty is conventionally apochryphal, it may be said that she was much nearer one than one hundred with safety, seeing that no man in Europe can prove that she was not.

The reverend gentleman, however, did not look at her age—he looked at her virtues: her amiability, her piety, her benevolence, the sweetness of her disposition, and the purity of her heart. Still he conceived it to be extremely difficult to propose; and that apparent difficulty increased as the time drew near at which he had determined that the proposal should be made. How hard he studied, few can tell; how many times he rehearsed that which he had fixed upon as his opening speech, few have the power to form anything like a correct conjecture; there are, however, many who can tell precisely why, when the time for the delivery of that speech had arrived, his recreant memory abandoned his will; there are also many in a position to understand how it happened that, having resolved on the immediate pursuit of his object, he at once, notwithstanding that desertion, commenced.

At this time he and Aunt Eleanor were in one of the doctor's drawing-rooms alone; and as there appeared to be no prospect of any immediate interruption, he coughed—slightly coughed—and thus began:—

"Have you seen the papers this morning?"

"I saw one in the breakfast-room, but I merely glanced at it."

"You didn't read the debate in the House of Commons, I presume?"

"Parliamentary debates I very seldom read: I am not sufficiently conversant with political affairs to read those awfully long speeches with any degree of interest. Was there anything of importance brought forward last night?"

"Why, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, I perceive, announced that the expenditure exceeds the income."

"Indeed! Some bad management, I presume?"

"He says not—and he ought, I think, to know as well as any man in England. But it strikes me that I could suggest to him the means by which the revenue might be increased!"