affairs, and wished that neither would others trouble themselves about hers. It was some time before I, in real earnest, began to suspect that Miss Harriet had taken upon herself the charge of the getting up and repairing of my fine linen, and supplying such new as I seemed to stand in need of. And when at length I charged her with it, she tried to look a little cross, but that good, roguish smile betrayed her; and the good, kind, sisterly soul has since then not been able to keep me at a distance by her somewhat harsh voice, and grave manner. But that this voice never spoke other than in truth, and that under that apparently cold demeanour there dwelt a good, honest heart, a clear and sound understanding, a somewhat jocose and excellent temper and powers of conversation—all this I discovered by degrees, although I had been assured by Mr. H.
And who is Mr. H.? Mr. Lerner H. is one of the gentleman friends of the house, a man whom I would very gladly have for a friend. More of him you will probably know hereafter, as we are to be fellow-travellers to New Orleans.
Miss V., the second and younger friend and inmate of the family, is so silent and quiet, and it is merely from the lofty, intellectual forehead, and the repose of the whole noble figure, that one is led to suppose her to be the possessor of more than ordinary talent. True, however it is, that now and then an observation is made, or some play of words is quietly and carelessly uttered, which makes one turn one's head, at once amused and surprised, towards the unpretending Miss V., because one seldom hears anywhere anything so good as what she has said.
Thus to-day, at dinner, when they were talking of the excitement which Jenny Lind had produced in the United States, somebody said that they had seen an announcement offering “Jenny-Lind herrings” for sale, and Miss V.
