The Cupid of the present day was undoubtedly “raised” in Connecticut; for the ingenuity and shrewdness of that small personage could have sprung from no other soil.  In former times his stratagems were of the romantic order.  Colin bleated forth his passion in rhyme, and cast sheep’s eyes from among his flock, while Phyllis coquetted with her crook and stuck posies in his hat; royal Ferdinand and Miranda played at chess; Ivanhoe upset his fellow-men like ninepins for love of lackadaisical Rowena; and “sweet Moll” turned the pages while her lover, Milton, sang.  But in our day the jolly little god, though still a heathen in the severe simplicity of his attire, has become modernized in his arts, and invented huskings, apple-bees, sleigh-rides, “drop-ins,” gymnastics, and, among his finer snares, the putting on of skates, drawing of patterns, and holding skeins,—­the last-named having superior advantages over the others, as all will testify who have enjoyed one of those hand-to-hand skirmishes.

August Bopp was three and twenty, imaginative, grateful, and heart-whole; therefore, when he found himself sitting opposite a blooming little damsel, with a head, bound by a pretty red snood, bent down before him, and very close to his own a pair of distracting hands, every finger of which had a hit to make, and made it, it is not to be denied that he felt himself entering upon a new and very agreeable experience.  Where could he look but in the face opposite, sometimes so girlishly merry and sometimes so beautifully shy?  It was a winning face, full of smooth curves, fresh colors, and sunshiny twinkles,—­a face every one liked, for it was as changeful as an April day, and always pleasant, whether mischievous, mournful, or demure.

Like one watching a new picture, Mr. Bopp inspected every feature of the countenance so near his own; and, as his admiration “grew by what it fed on,” he fell into a chronic state of stammer and blush; for the frank eyes were very kind, the smooth cheeks reflected a pretty shade of his own crimson, and the smiling lips seemed constantly suggesting, with mute eloquence, that they were made for kissing, while the expressive hands picked at the knots till the Professor felt like a very resigned fly in the web of a most enticing young spider.

If the King of Clubs saw a comely face, the Queen of Hearts saw what observing girls call a “good face;” and with a womanly respect for strength, the manliest attribute of man, she admired the broad shoulders and six feet one of her new master.  This face was not handsome, for, true to his fatherland, the Professor had an eminent nose, a blonde beard, and a crop of “bonny brown hair” long enough to have been gathered into a ribbon, as in the days of Schiller and Jean Paul; but Dolly liked it, for its strength was tempered with gentleness; patience and courage gave it dignity, and the glance that met her own was both keen and kind.