inclined to have our brains bewildered.

First, let me inform you that my cousin, who was born in London, knows
all the grand people by sight, and bows to a great many of them. You may
imagine what a treat it was to me, who had lived in a country village
all my life, to see with my own eyes His Royal Highness the Prince, or
His Grace the Duke, or Her Grace the Duchess, or His Excellency the
Marquis, or the Most Noble the Marchioness, pass by in their grand
carriages. How I used to stand on tip-toe to get a glimpse of their
faces over the people's heads, and how Drinkwater used to laugh at me.

One morning we were walking in Hyde Park, amusing ourselves in the usual
way, when Drinkwater whispered to me hurriedly, "Here come a great Lion
and Lioness." You may imagine my sensations. Bewildered with terror, I
was about to leave him, and fly; but when I turned with trembling limbs
and looked in the direction he pointed out, I saw that these fearful
creatures appeared quite harmless: in fact, the great Lion, though he
looked very magnificent, was quietly smoking a cigar; and except that
the Lioness stared very fiercely, and wore spurs, and carried a
riding-whip, I really don't think I should have known that she was a
Lioness. A little Tiger, leading the Lioness's horse, followed them at a
short distance.

I noticed that every one made way for these important members of
society, who, indeed, seemed to think the earth hardly good enough for
them to walk upon; but when they had passed by, I heard the people say,
"That's the great Mr. Grandboy. He is one of our celebrated Lions. He is
a perfect literary Beau Brummel; the author of several novels, that have
been read prodigiously; he composes operas, sets the fashion of the
cravat, and, they say, writes leaders for 'The Times.'"

"And who, pray, is the Lioness?"

"That is the Hon. Mrs. Delmacare. She writes novels, too, follows the
hounds, and often whips her Tiger."

Such were the remarks of the crowd.

Drinkwater told me that some of these Lions and Lionesses do most
extraordinary things, and that people run after them and invite them to
the most costly entertainments, where they are expected to amuse the
guests by their roars. I am glad I am not a Lioness.

When I had somewhat recovered from the agitation caused by this
rencontre, Drinkwater persuaded me to take a walk to St. James's Park,
to see those charming ducks, and the black swans, and the queer little
creatures