enormous groan, in which the fellows
on the dickey participated. Even the postilion who stood near, set up
a crowing laugh--and the very horses by their snorting and neighing,
seemed to be sensible of the utter and deplorable failure.

And away they went--and they were hotly pursued, and overtaken, _just_
in time to be too late--which left no other course but that of
reconciliation;--and where there is no choice to be made, every body
knows there is but one part to be taken.

That occurrence is now three years since, and it was only the other
day that I again met the pair of turtles. Dropping in rather late at a
card-party, I beheld them sitting vis-a-vis at one of the tables,
playing together against an old lady and gentleman, before whom Mrs.
L---- thought, perhaps, it was not necessary to appear _very_
fashionable towards dear Harry. With the requisite _ceremonious
unceremoniousness_ so popular at present, I took a chair behind him,
and annoyed him every moment by remarks upon his wife; of course all
highly nattering to both.

"My love, you have played that card wrong--very wrong."

"Did I, my dear?" replied Mrs. L. smiling languidly, and looking in
his face more as if she was admiring the elegant turn of his forehead,
and the spirited expression of his dark eye, than as if she minded
what he was saying--"'tis indeed--very."

"'Tis what?"

"Oh! were you not speaking of something? I beg pardon, love--I thought
you spoke."

"And so I did, my dear. I told you that card was played most
abominably."

"I dare say, my love;--[still gazing in his eyes and smiling]--I know
I'm very stupid,"--[playing a card.]

"Well, you have taken a curious way to mend matters--that last play
was a thousand degrees worse than the other."

"I dare say, my love,--[looking in his face, and continuing to drawl
and simper in the manner which we might imagine of Shakspeare's little
shepherdess--

"'Sweet youth chide on--I had rather hear thee chide
Than others woo--'"]

"But tell me, love, when I play wrong," [playing again without taking
her eyes from his, even to look at her card.]

"I had much better leave you to yourself," said L.

"'_You will be compelled to take refuge in fits of sullenness_,'"
muttered I, quoting from my former prophecy.

"My dear,"--[pronounced just in the same way as he might have said,
'you fool,']--pray open your eyes."

"_Perhaps in rudeness_," I continued.

"There again!" cried poor L----,