tion, and, when warmed a little into familiarity
and ease, could even hazard an observation with reference to the
weather, without changing colour above twice in the course of it. In a
word, she was one of those excessively bashful and retiring young
ladies, who always look as if they thought a man was going to make
violent love to them, and who, if your conversation happen to diverge
from the beaten track of the smallest of small talk, take fright, and
are off as fast as possible to whisper to some of their companions, "La!
what a strange man that is!"

This was the very kind of person for Mr Simon Silky, who was a bit of a
sentimentalist in his way. When he met Miss Jemima Linton, the fair
ideal on whom his fancy had often dwelt seemed to be realised. He came,
he saw, and was conquered.

On entering Mrs Greenwood's drawing-room, one evening that he had been
invited there to meet "a few friends in an easy way," having arrived
rather late, he found the party already assembled. The fire blazed
cheerfully out upon a bevy of tittering misses, who were seated on
either side of it, whispering to each other in a timid and confidential
tone, with here and there a young man amongst them making convulsive
efforts to render himself amusing, while two or three putty-faced
juniors, with very white shirt-collars, and very brightly-polished
pumps--who had been called in to stop gaps in quadrilles, and render
themselves otherwise useful--sat in the background, for the most part
two on a chair, and speculating how many of the cakes that glistened on
the table they might appropriate to themselves with any degree of
decency. Mrs Humphrey Greenwood, the presiding divinity of this motley
gathering, vulgarly yclept a "cookie-shine," was planted behind a
brightly-burnished brass urn of liberal dimension, that hissed loudly on
the table.

"Mr Simon," she exclaimed, advancing from her post of honour--" Mr Simon
Silky, I'm so glad to see you; I really thought you had been going to
desert us."

Our hero blustered out some inarticulate apology, to which his hostess
of course paid no attention, but hurried on into the work of
introduction.

"Mr Silky, Miss Silliman, Miss Gingerly, Miss Barbara Silliman, Miss
Eggemon, Miss Jemima Linton; I think you know all the rest. Mr
Scratcherd, you know Mr Silky." Mr Scratcherd grinned an assent. "Mr
Silky, Mr Slap'emup. You'll find a seat for yourself somewhere. Try if
some of the ladies will have pity