windows, and in so doing shake a shower of blossoms from the clematis. I step out into the sunshine, and feel rejoiced to think there is a bright side still in the world. I live near town, for I am yet unwilling the age should leave me far behind it. I have old friends with whom I talk of the past, and young ones with whom I talk of the present. In youth one only grows romantic in solitude; but in old age one grows selfish. I have no interests to jar against those of others; society, therefore, calls forth my more kindly feelings. I have a noble fortune; and, what is more, I know the value of it, both as it regards myself and others. I have an excellent library of my own, and a subscription to a circulating one—an admirable cook—and a cellar where the sunshine of many a summer is treasured. I have much experience, and a little philosophy. I own the vanity of many a former anxious pursuit; but am equally ready to own I did not see the vanity of it at the time. I am now well content to be spectator of the world's great stage with kindness—my still remaining link with its present actors.' Confess, Miss Arundel, this is all in very good taste."
Miss Arundel.—"I trust you are not hoping for an argument in expecting me to deny it;
