come they can, of themselves. It
is such an ugly mistake to insist on giving every thing a name. Emotions
thrive so much better when they are nameless. We rightly label poisons,
but why should we label perfumes? I love a touch of the vague and of the
mysterious. It is the mystery-man who wins the woman. Direct
courtships--when found in novels--read well, but they are not advisable
in real life. Women like to upset well-laid plans by perverse and
counter movements. A man must always let a woman do a reasonable share
of the courting. I know so many men who have been courted outright by
their wives--of course in a gentle, womanly way. It is often done. I
have sometimes been so much interested in a man that I have fancied
myself at last in love. But it is always a fleet-footed fancy. Interest
and Love are not always the same--Robert Fairfield once interested me,
but I never loved him.

I lead an ideal, independent life. I have no uncongenial family
ties. My wishes, yea, even my whims, find instant gratification, if
gratification is possible. I am just delicate enough to gain the
tenderest consideration from all who know me. My little social sins
gain the readiest forgiveness--from those who love me--and, in the eyes
of some, grow into positive virtues. I maybe outrageously tardy for an
engagement, or, without any particular reason, break it altogether,
yet be understood and upheld. Platitudes do not always understand, and
sometimes foolishly rebel. But it is of no use. I have a little way
of making them believe that it was actually they and not I who had
committed the offense. And they plead for _me_ to forgive _them!_

My modes of life are somewhat peculiar--at least commonplace persons
think them so. I give little lunches and dinners. I invite just
whomsoever I please. Now and then, for the sake of good form, and of the
good mother, I have regulation affairs, to which I bid the _society
regulars_--the so-called first and best set, who take invitations
as a matter of course, who consider themselves the social salt of the
earth, who go every where, and move about the houses of other people
as if they owned them. The _Society Regular_ is a well-dressed,
bad-mannered, somewhat disagreeable animal, devoid of innate delicacy,
and absolutely without gratitude. They are Platitudes of the first
water. They do not frequent my house. They never dine or lunch with
me, my Pleasures and other Platitudes.

This regulation affair is