PETERSON’S MAGAZINE.
OUR PICNIC BY THE SEA.
BY NELLIE AMES.
ADAPTABILITY may be a desirable quality to possess. A man or woman, with this organ large, (we speak of it phrenologically), can be summed up thus: from fair to brilliant conversational powers, fond of a joke, interested and wide awake on all subjects of general interest; glowing with fervor about the last sermon, or last dance; delighted with the minister, and on the most friendly terms with the dancing-master; or, as St. Paul forcibly puts it, "All things to all men."
Now to be able to do this heartily and whole-souledly is a proof of great adaptability. To be ready to descend, at a moment's notice, from a lofty spiritual plain, from the realm of sublimated ideas, and enter into an animated discussion with some prosy, practical old fogy on State rights, or reconstruction; or sing "Champagne Charlie" to a musical genius who can't bear opera; this is the acme of adaptability, and with the majority of individuals these traits of character command the highest respect and admiration. The writer was once foolish enough to believe that such qualifications were only other words for unselfishness, a willingness to be interrupted, broken in upon, a desire to make one's self agreeable at the expense of comfort and inclination-but was compelled to change her opinion, doing so very reluctantly, however. To begin with from my earliest recollections, the person who embodied these various accomplishments was always the one to whom I was immediately attracted; people who were in the least reserved, who could not be wise or simple, sad or gay, talk theology, or sing a comic song, as the occasion demanded, were not companionable; not that I possessed, to an eminent degree, this rare versatile gift; but my admiration knew no bounds, particularly when I came in contact with a gentleman of this description. Such an one would I marry, or none at all; and although in no haste for the marriage-ring to encircle my left hand third finger, yet realizing that matrimony was the goal to which all ambitious maidens should aspire, and perfectly aware how much of odium and contempt attaches itself to the life of an old maid, I naturally fell into the not uncommon habit of scrutinizing the characters and physical attributes of men with a view to a probable change of name. I was not easily satisfied either. Not a few to whom I was introduced I immediately detested, and generally for this reason; they were too diffident, too undemonstrative, seemed to be wrapped up in an impenetrable armor of reserve; and gentlemen of this description I never took the least pains to be agreeable to, forgetting that the eagle, king of birds, makes his eyrie away from the untrodden paths of men; forgetful that the lily, purest and most beautiful of flowers, hides itself in almost unapproachable spots; unmindful of the fact that the most loveable and exquisite natures are those which shrink from the obtrusive and vulgar, and which ordinary magnetisms cannot attract. But who among us has not taken many a lesson from the same teacher? How many have wrecked their little barks against the Scylla of ignorant ardor, to be dashed again with still more force against the Charybdes of bitter disappointment? To moralize in these days of advanced ideas and spiritualistic theories is, perhaps, a little stupid, as our most brilliant minds have about decided that mortals have as little to do with their own management, through life, as with their own births-but less exalted individuals may, perchance, think differently; so, for the benefit of those who foolishly imagine they may be just partially responsible for the mistakes they commit in life, I willingly give them a leaf from my own personal history. The pleasantest episode of my life was meeting Ned Williams. However I might have been fascinated and dazzled with
