old
a finer figure?"

"Never, madam, but _do_ tell me"--

"Or so inimitable grace?"

"Never, upon my word!--But pray inform me"--

"Or so just an appreciation of stage effect?"

"Madam!"

"Or a more delicate sense of the true beauties of Shakespeare? Be so
good as to look at that leg!"

"The devil!" and I turned again to her sister.

"Smith?" said she, "why, not General John A. B. C.? Horrid affair that,
wasn't it?--great wretches, those Bugaboos--savage and so on--but we
live in a wonderfully inventive age!--Smith!--O yes! great man!--perfect
desperado--immortal renown--prodigies of valor! _Never heard!_" [This
was given in a scream.] "Bless my soul! why, he's the man"--

"-----mandragora
Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world
Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep
Which thou owd'st yesterday!"

here roared our Climax just in my ear, and shaking his fist in my face
all the time, in a way that I _couldn't_ stand, and I _wouldn't_. I left
the Misses Cognoscenti immediately, went behind the scenes forthwith,
and gave the beggarly scoundrel such a thrashing as I trust he will
remember to the day of his death.

At the _soiree_ of the lovely widow, Mrs. Kathleen O'Trump, I
was confident that I should meet with no similar disappointment.
Accordingly, I was no sooner seated at the card-table, with my pretty
hostess for a _vis-a-vis_, than I propounded those questions the
solution of which had become a matter so essential to my peace.

"Smith?" said my partner, "why, not General John A. B. C.? Horrid
affair that, wasn't it?--diamonds, did you say?--terrible wretches those
Kickapoos!--we are playing _whist_, if you please, Mr. Tattle--however,
this is the age of invention, most certainly _the_ age, one
may say--_the_ age _par excellence_--speak French?--oh, quite a
hero--perfect desperado!--_no hearts_, Mr. Tattle? I don't believe
it!--immortal renown and all that!--prodigies of valor! _Never
heard!!_--why, bless me, he's the man"--

"Mann?--_Captain_ Mann?" here screamed some little feminine interloper
from the farthest corner of the room. "Are you talking about Captain
Mann and the duel?--oh, I _must_ hear--do tell--go on, Mrs. O'Trump!--do
now go on!" And go on Mrs. O'Trump did--all about a certain Captain
Mann, who was either shot or hung, or should have been both shot and
hung. Yes! Mrs. O'Trump, she went on, and I--I went off. There was no
chance of hearing a