the cause. It has been to little purpose though, for I have never happened to meet Miss Glenn, although I have had the aggravation of coming in a few moments after she had left. From casual remarks of Mrs. Conway's, I have learned something of her history, and how it happens that I have never before met her. She and Mrs. Conway are cousins, brought up together like sisters; though a year or two ago, just after John's marriage, she left this city, and has but recently returned. "She is so witty and brilliant, and is always so much admired and courted, that when she goes away I can never divest myself of a fear that she will come back altered," Mrs. Conway said; "yet I ought to know that she never changes to those she loves." "No," I answered, slowly; "Miss Glenn does not seem to me a person who would either love or unlove lightly." Mrs. Conway looked at me with a pleasant smile of surprise in her bright eyes. "I did not think any one could read her so correctly at sight," she exclaimed. "I thought only those who loved Esther could comprehend her." I made no reply, and the conversation changed its course; but I sat wondering whether, if that were the qualification, there could exist in the wide world another being so fitted to know and understand her as I.
So her name is Esther. A more unsuitable appellation I cannot imagine. Why, it would have been far better to have called her Vashti; for she must always have gained men's devotion, not by kneeling to them until they extended the royal sceptre, but by making them glory in bowing before her.
February 21st.—John came into my office this morning, on his way down town, and asked me to dine with him. A rather famous Englishman was in the city, with letters of introduction to him, "and I want you to come up and help to entertain him," he continued, "though, to be sure, Esther Glenn is quite equal to that." I said I would certainly be there, though my assent arose from a rather different motive from the mingled friendship and curiosity for which John gave me credit. Unavoidably, I came in rather late, and found that the half score of guests which were to compose the company had arrived. In the centre sat Miss Glenn, radiant with animation, and seeming about as far from me as one of the fixed stars. She had evidently donned her society garments, both of mind and body, and I was fain to confess from my sore heart that both became her marvellously. She was amusing the whole company, though addressing her conversation chiefly to the English gentleman. The man was fifty, and had been married for probably half his life; but as I watched the gay, easy courtesy with which she drew him out, the grace and piquancy with which she roused and warmed him into positive excitement, I fairly hated him. At the table, we were so placed that he sat on one side of her, and I on the other. I am not an easy subject for social manipulation; yet she absorbed me into the conversation, and kept us both talking our very best, with a skill which amazed me. I had never before realized what manner of woman art and nature can produce when they join hands for a united triumph. We were wonderfully merry and witty, the number of good things said was quite startling; but I have sufficient benevolence left to hope that no other member of that party went through that dinner with such a sickening, unsatisfied aching at his heart as I did. My sense of distance from her seemed to deepen and increase with every flash and scintillation of her brilliancy. Looking at her nature from this light, to attempt to gain any hold upon it must be like striving to sustain your weight by grasping ice, from which you must not only slip helplessly and hopelessly away, but which will freeze and sharply cut your clinging hands. Her brightness was like the glittering
