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208 cabbages, or tables or chairs; you may know who they are, and they may know who you are, but until the magic words of introduction have been spoken over you—they are not. You are voiceless, eyeless, earless; so are they, and nothing short of your being all jumbled up together in a horrible accident would give any of them back their faculties. To this class of people, the offer of the smallest civility, a newspaper, a book or any other trifle, is regarded with grave doubt, and you are suspected of having designs on their purse, their bodies, or their acquaintance. "Nothing for nothing," is their motto. They never give without receiving a fair return, and why should you? It looks queer, to say the least. Therefore, when you are travelling, if you wish to be considered respectable, and neither an adventurer nor adventuress, put on a stony countenance; look at the ceiling or your boots—never at the countenances of your fellow-travellers; receive any offer of book, paper, etc., with a haughty "Sir!" or "Madam!" look down your nose if any one address you: but to be pleasant, to say "Thank you," and discuss the state of the weather, the state of the country, and the last new murder then indeed you are low, hopelessly low, and you have yourself to thank if the silent ones dub you as something rather different to what you suppose yourself to be.

Now I should, above all things, like to ask one of those little virgins yonder to lend me the Graphic; there is a lovely picture in it, and I always did like pictures. I should like to announce publicly, that I am burningly, consumedly, unbearably hot; not but what my looks sufficiently attest the unwelcome fact, but it is always such a relief to talk over one's misfortunes; half mine always vanish when I can get any one to sympathise with me over them. In this case, however, I might be burnt to a cinder before I should dare to comment on the fact.

The two little people sitting opposite me are sisters, as alike as