gue of coming to close quarters.
What was old, however momentous, was rejected as dull, what was new,
however insignificant, was thought interesting. Events of the past week
were placed with those beyond the flood; and the very existence of
occurrences which continued to be matter of deep interest with us in the
country, seemed there totally forgotten.

"I found, too, that the inhabitants of the metropolis had a standard of
merit of their own. That knowledge of the town was concluded to be
knowledge of the world; that local habits, reigning phrases, temporary
fashions, and an acquaintance with the surface of manners, was supposed
to be knowledge of mankind. Of course, he who was ignorant of the topics
of the hour, and the anecdotes of a few modish leaders, was ignorant of
human nature."

Sir John observed, that I was rather too young to be a _praiser of past
times_, yet he allowed that the standard of conversation was not so high
as it had been in the time of my father, by whose reports my youthful
ardor had been inflamed. He did not indeed suppose that men were less
intellectual now, but they certainly were less colloquially
intellectual. "For this," added he, "various reasons may be assigned. In
London man is every day becoming less of a social, and more of a
gregarious animal. Crowds are as little favorable to conversation as to
reflection. He finds, therefore, that he may figure in the mass with
less expense of mind; and as to women, they are put to no expense at
all. They find that by mixing with myriads, they may carry on the daily
intercourse of life, without being obliged to bring a single idea to
enrich the common stock."

"I do not wonder," said I, "that the dull and the uninformed love to
shelter their insignificance in a crowd. In mingling with the multitude,
their deficiencies elude detection. The vapid and the ignorant are like
a bad play; they owe the little figure they make to the dress, the
scenery, the music, and the company. The noise and the glare take off
all attention from the defects of the work. The spectator is amused, and
he does not inquire whether it is with the piece or with the
accompaniments. The end is attained, and he is little solicitous about
the means. But an intellectual woman, like a well written drama, will
please at home without all these aids and adjuncts; nay, the beauties of
the superior piece, and of the superior woman, will rise on a more
intimate survey. But you were goin