y set about being comfortable, for it had turned
chilly, and a furious wind disported itself in and out through
numberless crevices. Lavinia was inspired to mull some wine, and brewed
a mild jorum that cheered, but did not inebriate. Amanda produced her
Shakspeare, and read aloud while the simmering and sipping went on.
Matilda sketched the noble commander as she lay upon the sofa, with her
Egyptian profile in fine relief, and her aristocratic red slippers
gracefully visible. A large grey cat of a social turn joined the party,
and added much to the domesticity of the scene by sitting on the hearth
in a cosy bunch and purring blissfully.

'Now it is your turn to propose something for the general amusement,
Mandy,' said Mat, when the beakers were drained dry and the Montagues
and Capulets comfortably buried.

'Let us attend to the culture of our nails,' replied Amanda, producing
her _polissoir_, powder, and knife.

Three cups of tepid water were produced, and the company sat eagerly
soaking their finger tips for a time, after which much pruning and
polishing went on, to the great bewilderment of Puss, who poked her own
paws into the cups, as if trying to test the advantages of this
remarkable American custom.

'What _would_ our blessed mother say if she saw us now?' said Mat,
proudly examining ten pointed pink nails at the tips of her long
fingers.

'People told us we should get demoralised if we came abroad, and this is
the first step on the downward road,' returned Lavinia, shaking her head
over her own backslidings.

'No: it's the second step. We ate calves' brains for dinner, and what
I'm sure were frogs' legs with mushrooms. You know we vowed we wouldn't
touch their horrid messes, but I really begin to like them,' confessed
Mat, who had pronounced every dish at dinner 'De-licious!'

'Ha! I will write a poem!' cried Amanda, and leaping from the sofa she
grasped her pen, flung open her portfolio, and in a few brief moments
produced these inspired stanzas.

THE DOWNWARD ROAD.

Two Yankee maids of simple mien,
And earnest, high endeavour,
Come sailing to the land of France,
To escape the winter weather.
When first they reached that vicious shore
They scorned the native ways,
Refused to eat the native grub,
Or ride in native shays.
'Oh, for the puddings of our home!
Oh, for some simple food!
These horrid, greasy, unknown thin