of the newest and most elegant design."

"Then I leave these for him," said the grave philosopher; "a bag full of
bright brass Dates, and a hammer of Memory to knock them well in."

"If you had brought a sackful instead of a bagful," observed Pride, "it
would not have been too much for Dick Desley; and as for the
hammer--don't you know that he has a prodigiously fine Memory of his
own?"

Without condescending to reply, Mr. Learning put down his gifts, turned
round, and, quitting the cottage which harboured so impudent a guest,
went to the next one, which was Lubin's. The door, as usual, was wide
open, and the place deserted and empty. Mr. Learning did not even cross
the threshold, so disgusted was he at the unfurnished, untidy state of
the sluggard's home.

"I may as well leave these for him, but he'll never know how to use
them," muttered Learning, throwing in the hammer and nails.

He then crossed over to Matty's pretty cottage. Her door was also ajar,
and grave Mr. Learning stopped at it for some moments in astonishment
at the sight which presented itself to his view.

Miss Folly, in her seven flounces, her beads and flowers, peacock's
plume, rouge, ribbons, and all, was half reclining on the uncarpeted
floor, engaged in blowing bubbles. As each rose from the bowl of her
pipe, swelling and shining, and then mounting aloft, she watched it with
a look of affected delight and admiration in her up-turned eyes. No
contrast could be imagined greater than that between the stately
gentleman clothed in black, with his broad intellectual brow, spectacled
eyes, and grave, solemn manner; and light, fantastical, frivolous Miss
Folly, clad in the most absurd of styles, but looking as though she
thought herself the very pink of perfection.

"Dear, who can that funny old fogie be!" exclaimed Folly, as she caught
sight of grave Mr. Learning.

"Who may _you_ be, and what are you doing?" asked Learning, with less
politeness than he usually showed to ladies.

"You don't mean to say that you've never heard of me!" cried Folly, her
words bubbling out fast like water out of a bottle; "you must be Mr.
Ignorance, if you don't know that I'm Mademoiselle Folly, the most
particular friend of lovely Lady Fashion, and the inventress of
tight-lacing, steel-hoops, hair-powder, masks, periwigs--"

"Flattened heads, blackened teeth, nose-rings, lip-rings, and
tattooing," added Mr. Learning, remembering the account of a tribe of
savages w