On the present occasion, after uttering a number of these “hums!” Fanny embodied her feelings in words, and replied: 

“I think, Ralph, you are the most impudent gentleman I have ever known, and you wrong me.  I wonder how you got such bad manners; at Williamsburg, I reckon.  Hum!  If you wait until I marry you—!”

“I shall never repent the delay?” asked Ralph—­“is that what you mean?  Well, I don’t believe I shall.  But a truce to jesting, my charming cousin.  You spoke of Williamsburg, and my deterioration of manners, did you not?”

“Yes!”

“I can prove that I have not deteriorated.”

“Try, then.”

“No, I would have to read all this book, which is full of compliments, Fanny; that would take all day.  Besides, I am too modest.”

“Oh!” laughed Fanny, who had recovered her good humor.

“Let us hear, Mr. Ralph,” said Redbud, smiling.

“Yes—­let us see how the odious, college students write and talk,” added Fanny, laughing.

“Well, I’ll select one from each branch,” said Ralph:  “the friendly, pathetic, poetical, and so forth.  Lithe and listen, ladies, all!”

And while the company listened, even down to Longears, who lay at some distance, regarding Ralph with respectful and appreciative attention, as of a critic to whom a MS. is read, and who determines to be as favorable as he can, consistent with his reputation—­while they listened, Ralph opened his book and read some verses.

We regret that only a portion of the album of Mr. Ralph Ashley has come down to modern times—­the rats having devoured a greater part of it, no doubt attracted by the flavor of the composition, or possibly the paste made use of in the binding.  We cannot, therefore, present the reader with many of the beautiful tributes to the character of Ralph, recorded in the album by his admiring friends.

One of these tributes, especially, was—­we are informed by vague tradition—­perfectly resplendent for its imagery and diction; contesting seriously, we are assured, the palm, with Homer, Virgil and our Milton; though unlike bright Patroclus and the peerless Lycidas, the subject of the eulogy had not suffered change when it was penned.  The eulogy in question compared Ralph to Demosthenes, and said that he must go on in his high course, and gripe the palm from Graecia’s greatest son; and that from the obscure shades of private life, his devoted Tumles would watch the culmination of his genius, and rejoice to reflect that they had formerly partaken of lambs-wool together in the classic shades of William and Mary; with much more to the same effect.

This is lost; but a few of the tributes, read aloud by Mr. Ralph, are here inserted.

The first was poetic and pathetic: 

“MY DEAR ASHLEY: 

“Reclining in my apartment this evening, and reflecting upon the pleasing scenes through which we have passed together—­alas! never to be renewed, since you are not going to return—­those beautiful words of the Swan of Avon occurred to me: