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	   The Crocketts �at Home.�
Matty and Eliza, the latter with their pretty fa-
ces en rigollette.    Across the Hudson; twenty
minutes waiting in cars; then to Newark.       A
slushy, slippery, drizzly, wintry walk to 2, Orange
Place; where we found the newly-married man,
his brother and father, and others.    Chaff and chat,
a standing meal, while the girls were dressing, up-
stairs.     Nicholas and Haney in white kid gloves,
as presenters to the bride and bridegroom, during
the approaching reception.   Nicholas handsome
and gentlemanly as ever; they say he is going to
get married in a few days� time.        A quiet
cigar; the girls descend and tea; Mr. and
Mrs. Damoreau arrive.     I hadn�t seen the
woman for some years and was curious to ob-
serve how she�d impress me.          She looks Irish
� unmistakeably so.       At a little distance a
near-sighted person, like myself, might mistake
her for a handsomish, rather voluptuous 
woman with a curious distrustful look 
about the eyebrows � a latent, evil glance, omi-
nous of a suspicious, wicked nature.  But
when I approached her, I found her features
coarse and ugly, her mouth brutal.       I am
sure she is a sensualist in some direction.   Her
breath stunk too, abominably.      She has good hair,
however, and was handsomely dressed.      I sur-