er own, was imparted to the
company generally.

"I knew it! I was sure of it from her smile, the moment I entered the
room!" exclaimed Mr. T---- the distinguished collector, who sat next me.

Another guest, Miss Rowley, also a collecting celebrity, was sitting
opposite, and turned so pale at the moment, that I was on the point of
officiously recommending a glass of water.

"Have you albums in America, Mr. Howard?" inquired a charming young
lady on my right.

"There is no lack of them, I assure you,"--I replied.

"Really! Adela, Mr. Howard tells me they have albums in America!"
repeated the young lady to a charming sister, near her; while on my
left I had the satisfaction of hearing some gratifying remarks from Mr.
T----, as to the state of civilization in my native country, as shown
by such a fact.

"And what are your albums like?" again inquired my lovely neighbor.

"Not like Lady Holberton's, perhaps--but pretty well for a young
nation."

"Oh dear--not like Lady Holberton's of course--hers is quite unique--so
full of nice odd things. But are your albums in America at all like
ours?"

"Why yes! we get most of them from Paris and London."

"Oh dear! how strange--but don't you long to see this new treasure of
Lady Holberton's--that dear nice letter of Otway's, written while he
was starving?" inquired the charming Emily, helping herself to a bit of
pate de Perigord.

{pate de Perigord = an expensive French delicacy: goose liver pate with
truffles.}

"Yes, I am exceedingly curious to see it."

"You don't believe it was written by that coarse, vulgar Butler, do
you?"

"No, indeed,--it is the pathetic Otway's, beyond a doubt!"

My neighbor, the Butlerite, gave a contemptuous shrug, but I paid him
no attention, preferring to coincide with the soft eyes on my right,
rather than dispute with the learned spectacles to the left.

After dinner when we had done full justice to the bill of fare,
concluding with pines, grapes, and Newtown pippins, we were all
gratified with a sight of the poor poet's letter, by way of bonne
bouche. A little volume written by Lady Holberton--printed but not
published--relating its past history from the date of its discovery in
the library of Lord G----, her grandfather, to the present day, passed
from hand to hand, and this review of its various adventures of course
only added force to the congratulations offered upon the acquisition of
this celebrated autograph.

{pine = pinea