en to Louis Philippe. But nothing is too grand for the
American, in the way of titles. The proudest of them all signify
absolutely nothing. They do not stand for ability, for public service,
for social importance, for large possessions; but, on the contrary, are
oftenest found in connection with personalities to which they are
supremely inapplicable. We can hardly afford to quarrel with a national
habit which, if lightly handled, may involve us in serious domestic
difficulties. The "Right Worshipful" functionary whose equipage stops at
my back gate, and whose services are indispensable to the health and
comfort of my household, is a dignitary whom I must not offend. I must
speak with proper deference to the lady who is scrubbing my floors, when
I remember that her husband, who saws my wood, carries a string of
high-sounding titles which would satisfy a Spanish nobleman.

After all, every people must have its own forms of ostentation, pretence,
and vulgarity. The ancient Romans had theirs, the English and the French
have theirs as well,--why should not we Americans have ours? Educated
and refined persons must recognize frequent internal conflicts between
the "Homo sum" of Terence and the "Odi profanum vulgus" of Horace. The
nobler sentiment should be that of every true American, and it is in that
direction that our best civilization is constantly tending.

We were waited on by a new girl, the other evening. Our pretty maiden
had left us for a visit to some relative,--so the Mistress said. I do
sincerely hope she will soon come back, for we all like to see her
flitting round the table.

I don't know what to make of it. I had it all laid out in my mind. With
such a company there must be a love-story. Perhaps there will be, but
there may be new combinations of the elements which are to make it up,
and here is a bud among the full-blown flowers to which I must devote a
little space.

Delilah.

I must call her by the name we gave her after she had trimmed the Samson
locks of our Professor. Delilah is a puzzle to most of us. A pretty
creature, dangerously pretty to be in a station not guarded by all the
protective arrangements which surround the maidens of a higher social
order. It takes a strong cage to keep in a tiger or a grizzly bear, but
what iron bars, what barbed wires, can keep out the smooth and subtle
enemy that finds out the cage where beauty is imprisoned? Our young
Doctor is evidently attracted b