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Miss had summoned the bevy of fair young creatures to her private room—and as the day was windy—and unpropitious, as this lady was pleased to observe for the display of the more delicate capabilities of the sex—she proposed to put them through a course of General Fascination. Then they were to be required to answer Examination Papers, the result of Miss H. M.’s long experience of human life—but just as she had begun with—

“''Ladies, my dear pupils, are delicate creatures—unlike that rough and disagreeable creature man—whose subjection, however, should be the daily and hourly object of their lives. Their sensibilities are extreme. Their feelings, like the unpremeditated harmonies of the vocal songstress of the leafy woods''”

A tap was heard at the door, and a Being—was it a man?—was it a boy?—was it the Talking Fish in the Page’s costume?—entered the apartment with a note in his hand!!! and offered it to Miss Harriet ’s acceptance. That lady instantly assumed the demeanour of a Judge who has put on the Black Cap.

“! how often have I told you—how often must I tell you again, that all epistolary communications addressed to a lady, and delivered into the hands of a lady by a man-servant”—(words would fail to express the calm intensity of contempt with which Miss H. M. pronounced these last words)—“must be brought under her notice upon a silver vehicle. Nor does it alter the case that the billet, or poulet, note, or letter is sent from a lady to a lady. The masculine hand is equally impure. The lady equally requires the protection of the silver vehicle. Caspar, I will not see that you have that letter in your hand. I will not be aware of its existence, until it is submitted to my inspection on the proper vehicle. Begone, sir,—you know your duty!”

The anomalous Caspar stumbled out of the room upsetting a chair in his way—an accident which elicited from Miss H. M. a triumphant “''There! There!''” When the door was closed upon him, Miss H. M. continued to improve the occasion:

“Ladies, my beloved pupils are sacred things—physically weak; but, morally, of tremendous power. In your future establishments be careful to surround yourselves with all the protection that the graceful majesty of etiquette can throw around you. Treat, for example, such a painful incident as the one we have just witnessed as what it really is—a treasonable act against feminine dignity. The Spanish Court in old days knew the value”

Here Caspar re-entered, bearing the note upon a huge silver salver. Miss H. B. removed it contemptuously from the vehicle, and, with a quiet “Wait,” proceeded to inform herself of its contents.

“I see, my dear young friends, that a person is about to call at Mountchauncey House with the view of seeking admission to its precincts for three young ladies—his (the person’s) nieces. I must leave you for a brief space in order to receive the person in a suitable way. During my absence, my sweet loves, you will employ your time in throwing upon paper your ideas of how 1200l. per annum—a paltry stipend indeed!—can be best employed for securing the felicity of a family.”

Miss disappeared, leaving Caspar still standing in the middle of the room with the silver salver in his hand. The odd thing was, that although dressed in a page’s dress, Caspar, upon closer inspection, proved to be a man of middle-age—perhaps more. He was without whiskers, his collar was turned down, and tied with a ribbon. The Mountchauncey livery was bottle-green, and the Mountchauncey buttons upon Caspar’s uniform were innumerable. There was a strange seriousness about his face: he had seen, known, and suffered much. For the half minute after Miss had quitted the room the young doves remained unfluttered; but when it might reasonably be inferred that there was no chance of her return, how they started up, and swarmed about Caspar like young butterflies! How playfully, with the exception of sweet, they pulled his hair! and how applied a bottle of salts to his nose! and how, when poor Caspar was in the act of sneezing, tilted the silver vehicle out of his grasp! Poor was fairly driven beside himself at this last outrage, and said:

“Ugh! you tiger-cats, let me go, or I’ll wop some of you. If the gentlemen out of doors only knowed half as much as I do about you, precious few of you would be conducted to the haltar!”

Chorus of doves. “We’ll tell, we’ll tell.”

Caspar. “Tell the old girl as much as you like. Do you think she’d find another full-growed man to put on these togs—one who hates you all as I do—eh? I only stops here to plague you—and if ever I goes avay, it’ll be to set up as a lady’s hundertaker!”

a century ago it was taken for granted that the Knight-Adventurer was a lost type of character in the civilised world. It seemed to be adapted to those ages in which men were becoming acquainted with the globe we live on—preparing