Page:New Peterson magazine 1859 Vol. XXXV.pdf/18

 . prets also, might makes woman happy. ‘hat }

clerk for a partner, or even the son of some rich was Mr. Bullion, ‘a litile old to be sure, but} tailor.” (The grandfather of one of these speak- worth « cot million and a hal” Lucy shrank § ore had been a hair-dresser, and the father of the Irom the wigged and padded old ogre, who lecred { other # boot-maker.) a every pretty face. “It’s not every man could? “For my part,” said the remaining member get them three together at one and the same {of the group, “I wouldn’t let mine come. I'm party,” concluded Mr. Smith, out of breath with { astonished, too, to see you both dressed, as if his exertions in talking; and be mopped his ; the party was given by one of us. I’ve got onan. bald bead, that shone like a pecled onion. {old dinner dress, that I wore at Newport, as you “And that,” be resumed, ‘is Mr. nooks, the see; and ita quite good enough for the company. 4 To tell the truth, I shouldn't be here myself, {but T want to see what sort of « supper they’ Yeet out. We must make an early move, or wo Uthan't get good places; for most of the mob {here look as if they didn’t often taste terrapin {and champagne.” At this point, the speaker espied Mr. Poultney und rushed away to make a prize of him. «Everybody knows Mrs. Plump's weakness,” {anid one of her friends, aareastically, “and sho hag evidently prepared herself for a feed. She'll die, some day, of apoplexy. But, dear me, there’s Bullion asking to be introduced to Clotilde. I }do hopo the dear child hasn't engaged herself for the next set to any foolish young man.” And {she roso, in a fluiter, to lend her matornal skill [in landing the trout her daughter had hooked.

poet, author of ‘The Bleeding Heart’ and other poems. I don’t read poetry myself, but genius ought to be encouraged: the merchant princes } of Iisly, you know, patronized it always.” And< t he gave s fins] flourish of the hand, pointing to { a sentimental-looking gentleman, who was leun- ing against a pedestal, and gazing up at a por- trait of Byron. Luey bad never heard of “The Bleeding Heart,” nor indeed had anybody oe

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except Mr. Snooks’ acquaintances and certain trunk-makera; but she was quite awed by this § imposing preseuce.

Lucy was now left, for a few moments, to her self. Near her were somo ladies, who considered themselves the quintessence of good society. } They shrugged their shouldera and began wo ‘Tx MILLZONATaR 18 ExTEODVCED, whisper, {My dear,” suid Luoy’s mother, ‘the son of

“How odiously vulgar!" enid one. “But a of the oldest friends of your father wishes

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tan make a set by ourselves, that’s one comfort.” } to become acquainted with you. Mr, Poultney, “ve told my girls that they must be very | my daughter: Lucy, Mr. Poultney.”

careful who they dance with,” remarked an-} Mr, Poultney and Luoy were soon in animated

other: “‘these upstarts aro such pushing people. § conversation.

Imagine Arabella, or Clotilde, having a common} «Do you see the two distinguished foreigners

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