A REJECTED lover generally fancies himself very miserable,
even if his fate have been communicated in the mildest
manner. But Harry's offer had been disposed of so very
unceremoniously, that the young gentleman had a good excuse
for being rather out of spirits. There was something
inexplicable in it. He knew that he could not have been
mistaken in her former obvious affection, or in the certainty
that she had been alienated from him by some extraordinary
error, to which his utmost conjectures could furnish
no clew.

From the dinner-table, whence he perceived his rashness

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had banished his sister's friend, and a favourite and frequent
guest of the family, he started off on an excursion, he scarcely
knew whither; but he found his strong wish for a change
of scene had driven him over to Hoboken in one of the
ferry-boats, and that he was pressing his way through
woods, over fields, and up the steep acclivities of the Weehawken
heights at a most prodigious rate; stopping sometimes,
however, in the midst of his peculiar meditations, to
admire the beauties of the various views which broke upon
him, of the river, bay, shores, and distant city, now all
bathed in the silent, mellow light of a summer sunset.

In the course of this love-sick ramble he had various very
serious reflections and sensations, which were more interesting
to him than they would be to any one else. Among
them were mingled images of despair and resentment; resolutions
of flight, of marriage with some one else, of suicide,
and of a stoical return to calm and sober reason, to all of
which, however, there were certain objections or difficulties,
and all of which were melted to air every time the
face of Miss Elton crossed his imagination, looking, as she
generally did, particularly pretty. One determination, however,
he did take. After such a rejection, he might love the
young lady or not, according to circumstances, but he certainly
would not make her any more declarations. He
would meet her hereafter with a lofty insensibility, and if
his heart should break outright, he would never let her know
anything of it.

While engaged in these reflections, the hours rolled
rapidly away, and he heard the bell of the last ferry-boat
ringing violently. Hastening his steps, he crossed once
more the broad and noble river, and took his way along the
streets, now glittering with evening lights, and filled with
crowds of pleasure-seekers. Here he wandered till a late
hour, endeavouring to deaden, by rapid motion, his sense of
unhappiness, which he at length so far succeeded in doing
that he felt a consciousness of more than ordinary hunger
and thirst, induced by his long and fatiguing ramble, and
the exciting nature of his thoughts, after a dinner which, as
the young reader may suppose, had not been a very hearty
one. He had come to the conclusion that a world in which
such a person as he could be so cruelly and contemptuously
rejected by such a person as Miss Elton, must be a very
wretched one—must be given over to blind chance, if not to

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the sport of an evil demon. He was not an infidel, but he
was by no means a Christian. He belonged to the large
class who, perpetually engaged in the cares, pursuits, and
pleasures of this life, have no time or inclination to think
about anything else. With a sort of buoyant recklessness,
he resolved to shake from his thoughts the circumstance
which had so much affected him, or, at least, to drown present
recollection in a hearty supper and a bottle of wine.

He continued still to wander rapidly on, for he cared not
how long, scarcely knowing whither he went, when he
found himself before one of those elegantly-furnished ordinaries
which, notwithstanding the lateness of the night, was
open, to catch such as roamed abroad in search of pleasure.
His mental anguish abated a moment at the prospect
of refreshment, which his exhausted body greatly demanded.

An ample and tempting meal called him from his gloomy
reflections to the keen pleasure of his repast, by which he
sought, and, for the moment, with success, to lose sight of
his wo. He ate heartily and drank freely, to drown the
saddening and tormenting thoughts which would obtrude
themselves upon him.

He looked around. The room where he sat was entirely
deserted, with the exception of the barkeeper, a young lad,
worn out with late hours, who sat, half asleep, retired at
some distance, betraying, had there been any one in a situation
to observe him, by many an ill-suppressed yawn, his
longing for the departure of his ravenous customer, and
thinking, perhaps, as he beheld the amply-loaded table, with
the honest man in the farce,

“If all this is to be devoured by Mr. Morgan,
He must have a deused good digestive organ!”

But Harry was in no such haste. The fumes of his supper,
and the inspiration of his bottle of Champagne, gave
him a feeling of joyous relief, which kept sleep and the desire
of sleep far enough from his eyelids. Here he sat,
and ate, and drank, and thought, till the various persons
who came in had satisfied their wants and gone out again;
till the wine mounted into his head rather more than he intended,
and till the idea of blowing his brains out for Miss
Fanny Elton, or any other young lady whatever, appeared
to him one of the most ridiculous and amusing things he
had ever heard of in the whole course of his life.

Finishing, at length, the meal, wine, and reflections

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together, he called for the bill, with as steady an air of gentlemanly
ease and dignity as he could assume, though with
a decidedly confused idea as to where he intended to go,
or what he proposed to do when he should have resumed
his walk. He was considerably struck, too, with a symptom
by no means usual with him, viz., a strong inclination
to smile without being particular as to the occasion. Thus
making his way out of the eating-house, he issued into the
street, he scarcely knew how, with his hat thrust down
very much over his eyes. He was just sober enough to
know that he was intoxicated, and to feel that the cool, fresh
air was most grateful to his flushed cheeks. The pavement,
however, heaved so beneath his feet, that he could not very
well walk, and he caught hold of the balustrade of the Park
to prevent his falling. He looked around and up. The
moon had now risen, and was shedding a pale, golden
gleam upon each object, filling the air with her gentle
glory, as he stood holding on firmly to the iron railing, not
without an effort preserving himself from lying at full length
upon the stones, which seemed to rock like the deck of a
ship at sea. He commenced singing a song, but, overcome
by the deliciousness of his sensations, and fully aware of the
absurdity of his ridiculous position, he began to laugh aloud,
and remained thus giving full vent to the overflowing merriment
of his soul.

At this moment a figure came towards him, but, on seeing
his condition, crossed over as if to avoid an encounter.
Urged by some new impulse, however, the person came
back, and looked him directly in the face.

“Hallo, my old cock!” said Harry, “what may be your
business?”

“What! Harry Lennox?” said the voice.

He turned to look at the speaker, and discovered Emmerson,
his father's partner.

“The devil! How are you?” cried Harry, assuming a
very grave and sober look.

“Why, my dear sir,” said Emmerson, smiling, “what's
the matter with you?”

“Oh, I have been unwell this evening, and I have come
out to (hiccough) take a little walk.”

“You're now going home, I hope?”

“Oh, y—y—yes! my dear fellow. I was just going
when you came up. Delightful evening!”

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“Delightful!”

“How are you? and how goes bu—bu—business?”

“Very well, I thank you. Good-night.”

“G—good—night, my dear boy. Won't you have a cigar?
But you don't smoke, I believe. Hallo! he's gone.
I think I'm a little drunk—ha, ha, ha!—but he has not
the least suspicion. Mum's the word! I had no idea I
could have done it so well. I wouldn't have him see me
flustered—him, of all men—not for a pipe of the best old
Tokay that ever—ha, ha, ha! Hold on, my fine fellow!”

A little sobered, however, but with his head still reeling,
laughing occasionally aloud, despite his efforts to keep serious,
he staggered on, and reached his home without meeting
any farther interruption.