A figure, half buried in the settle by the fire, folded a month-old journal and, rising, displayed in the light from the hickory logs the faded silk stockings, the velvet short-clothes, brocaded coat, and curled wig of M.Achille Pincornet, who taught dancing each winter in Richmond, as in summer he taught it in Albemarle.

Mr.Pincornet, snuff-box and handkerchief in hand, looked around him, saw the two at the corner table, and crossed to them.

"Mr.Rand, I make you my compliments.

I was in the gallery.

Ah, eloquence, eloquence!--substance persuasively put! Minerva with the air of Venus! I, too, was eloquent in my day! Pray honour me!" Rand touched the extended snuff-box with his fingers, muttered an absent word or two, and again sank into revery.