onvinced, a kind of physical fact like
endosmosis, with which some of you are acquainted. A thin film of
politeness separates the unspoken and unspeakable current of thought from
the stream of conversation. After a time one begins to soak through and
mingle with the other.

We were talking about names, one day.--Was there ever anything,--I
said,--like the Yankee for inventing the most uncouth, pretentious,
detestable appellations,--inventing or finding them,--since the time of
Praise-God Barebones? I heard a country-boy once talking of another whom
he called Elpit, as I understood him. Elbridge is common enough, but
this sounded oddly. It seems the boy was christened Lord Pitt,--and
called for convenience, as above. I have heard a charming little girl,
belonging to an intelligent family in the country, called Anges
invariably; doubtless intended for Agnes. Names are cheap. How can a man
name an innocent new-born child, that never did him any harm, Hiram?--The
poor relation, or whatever she is, in bombazine, turned toward me, but I
was stupid, and went on.--To think of a man going through life saddled
with such an abominable name as that!--The poor relation grew very
uneasy.--I continued; for I never thought of all this till afterwards.--I
knew one young fellow, a good many years ago, by the name of
Hiram--What's got into you, Cousin,--said our landlady,--to look
so?--There! you 've upset your teacup!

It suddenly occurred to me what I had been doing, and I saw the poor
woman had her hand at her throat; she was half-choking with the "hysteric
ball,"--a very odd symptom, as you know, which nervous women often
complain of. What business had I to be trying experiments on this
forlorn old soul? I had a great deal better be watching that young girl.

Ah, the young girl! I am sure that she can hide nothing from me. Her
skin is so transparent that one can almost count her heart-beats by the
flushes they send into her cheeks. She does not seem to be shy, either.
I think she does not know enough of danger to be timid. She seems to me
like one of those birds that travellers tell of, found in remote,
uninhabited islands, who, having never received any wrong at the hand of
man, show no alarm at and hardly any particular consciousness of his
presence.

The first thing will be to see how she and our little deformed gentleman
get along together; for, as I have told you, they sit side by side. The
next thing will be to k