kept his eye on the young lady the
whole time she had been thus running on, with an interest that struck me
as somewhat exaggerated, when one remembered the character of the
speaker, and the value of her remarks.

"I think so, Mr. Warren, because everybody says so," was the answer. "If
Marthy Littlepage don't think herself better than other folks, why don't
she _act_ like other folks. Nothing is good enough for her in her own
conceit."

Poor little Patt, who was the very _beau ideal_ of nature and
simplicity, as nature and simplicity manifest themselves under the
influence of refinement and good-breeding, was here accused of fancying
herself better than this ambitious young lady, for no other reason than
the fact of the little distinctive peculiarities of her air and
deportment, which Opportunity had found utterly unattainable, after one
or two efforts to compass them. In this very fact is the secret of a
thousand of the absurdities and vices that are going up and down the
land at this moment, like raging lions, seeking whom they may devour.
Men often turn to their statutebooks and constitution to find the
sources of obvious evils, that, in truth, have their origin in some of
the lowest passions of human nature. The entrance of Seneca at that
moment, however, gave a new turn to the discourse, though it continued
substantially the same. I remarked that Seneca entered with his hat on,
and that he kept his head covered during most of the interview that
succeeded, notwithstanding the presence of the two young ladies and the
divine. As for myself, I had been so free as to remove my cap, though
many might suppose it was giving myself airs, while others would have
imagined it was manifesting a degree of respect to human beings that was
altogether unworthy of freemen. It is getting to be a thing so
particular and aristocratic to take off the hat on entering a house,
that few of the humbler democrats of America now ever think of it!

As a matter of course, Opportunity upbraided her delinquent brother for
not appearing sooner to act as her beau; after which, she permitted him
to say a word for himself. That Seneca was in high good-humour, was
easily enough to be seen; he even rubbed his hands together in the
excess of his delight.

"Something has happened to please Sen," cried the sister, her own mouth
on a broad grin, in her expectation of coming in for a share of the
gratification. "I wish you would get him to tell us what