MISADVENTURES OF A LOVER. 157 



made me most anxious for a more private interview. I have always 

 been of opinion that, next to the semi-celestial pleasure of sitting in a 

 boudoir with a dear creature in your arms, embracing her by day- 

 light, candle-light, lamp-light, gas-light, or moon-light, as the case 

 may be though had I always my own choice I would prefer moor - 

 light as being the most romantic next, I say, to this pleasure, I can 

 conceive of no sublunary bliss at all approaching to that of walking 

 on a fine day, on a fine promenade, with " the unit of your heart'' 

 hanging on your arm ; so beautiful, so pretty in countenance and fi- 

 gure, as to make you and her the observed of all observers. I had 

 seen some beaus the preceding evening enjoy this peerless felicity in 

 Hyde Park ; and O how I envied them their happiness ! Thought 

 I, if I had only Miss Jackson with me, we should eclipse them all, 

 and I should be the envied in my turn. 



I will write her, thought I ; I will propose an assignation for next 

 Friday afternoon (the hour four o'clock precisely) at Hyde Park 

 Corner. The only hesitation I had in doing this was, that it was 

 dark when I went to and came from her mother's house, I did not 

 observe the number. I concluded, however, that as I knew the 

 street perfectly, the letter would in all probability find her. I did 

 write her to the effect above hinted at. And a more tender note 

 never emanated from a lover's 'pen. It breathed affection bound- 

 less as space enduring as eternity. It told in touching and eloquent 

 terms of the impression her unrivalled charms had made on my soul 

 when in her company the other evening ; and concluded by pro- 

 testing that, should she vouchsafe a meeting, I should be the most 

 felicitous mortal in the universe ; but that, if her answer was adverse, 

 I should be the most miserable man extant : I could not long survive 

 the shock. 



The same evening the twopenny postman brought me a neatly 

 folded letter, the address written in a style of penmanship which 

 seemed to me the beau ideal of lady caligraphy. I guessed the 

 writer; she could be none other than Miss Jackson. I looked at the 

 seal before breaking open the letter ; it spoke of the nature of the con- 

 tents. The motto was, " Ever thine." I opened the letter with a 

 heart palpitating from joy. I was not disappointed : the charming 

 creature was most propitious. Nothing, she protested, could afford 

 her greater pleasure than to meet me at the time and place ap- 

 pointed. Of what bliss svas the receipt of this letter productive to 

 me ! Ecstacy ! I never knew its import before. I have read of 

 persons literally dying of joy: my heart was distended: a little 

 more elevation of spirits would have done for me what I intended to 

 do for myself immediately after reading the unprincipled " Elope- 

 ment Extraordinary" which appeared in the worthless provincial 

 print published in the vicinity of Gretna Green. To-morrow, after- 

 noon Hyde Park the beautiful arid elegantly-dressed Miss Jack- 

 son hanging on my arm. These were the topics, these the images 

 that engrossed my mind all that evening, that night, and part of next 

 day. I purchased a new suit of clothes, called in the aid of the per- 

 riquier, spent hours at my toilet (have gentlemen toilets?) in pre- 

 paring for the appointed meeting. Last, though not least, I spent 



