women, who affect to be well informed.
"I am glad you are come, my loved friend," she said, extending her hand to Calantha when she entered. "I have just been translating an Ode of Pindar:—his poetry is sublime: it nerves the soul and raises it above vulgar cares;—but you do not understand Greek, do you? Indeed to you it would be a superfluous acquisition, married as you are, and to such a man."—Lady Avondale, rather puzzled as to the connection between domestic happiness, and the Greek language, listened for further explanation;—but with a deep sigh, her lovely acquaintance talked of her fate, and referred to scenes and times long passed, and utterly unknown to her. She talked much too of injured innocence, of the malignity of the world, of her contempt for her own sex, and of the superiority of men.
Children as fair, and more innocent than their mother, entered whilst she was yet venting her complaints. A husband
