eive a great deal of that
which passes under the roof where I may happen to be, without
absolutely seeing it. Much escapes me, of course--for even a
pocket-handkerchief cannot hear or see every thing; but enough is
learned to enable me to furnish a very clear outline of that which
occurs near me; more especially if it happen to be within walls of
brick. In wooden edifices I find my powers much diminished--the fluids,
doubtless, escaping through the pores of the material.

That evening, then, at the usual hour, and while I lay snugly ensconced
in a most fragrant and convenient drawer, among various other beings of
my species, though not of my family, alas! the inmates of the house
assembled in the front drawing-room to take a few cups of tea. Mr. and
Mrs. Monson, with their only son, John Monson, their three daughters,
the governess, and Betts Shoreham, were all present; the latter having
dropped in with a new novel for the ladies.

"I do really wish one could see a little advance in the way of real
refinement and true elegance among all the vast improvements we are
making in frippery and follies," cried Mr. Monson, throwing down an
evening paper in a pettish manner, that sufficiently denoted
discontent. "We are always puffing our own progress in America, without
exactly knowing whether a good deal of the road is not to be traveled
over again, by way of undoing much that we have done. Here, now, is a
specimen of our march in folly, in an advertisement of Bobbinett's, who
has pocket-handkerchiefs at $75."

"By the dozen, or by the gross, sir?" demanded Betts Shoreham, quickly.

"Oh, singly--seventy-five dollars each."

"Nay, that MUST be a mistake, sir! who, even in this extravagant and
reckless country, could be found to pay such a price? One can fancy
such a thing in a princess, with hundreds of thousands of income, but
scarcely of any one else. How could such a thing be USED, for instance?"

"Oh," cried John Monson, "to hide the blushes of the simpleton who had
thrown away her money on it. I heard a story this very afternoon, of
some person of the name of Halfacre's having failed yesterday, and
whose daughter purchased even a higher priced handkerchief than that
the very same day."

"His failure is not surprising, then," put in Betts Shoreham. "For
myself, I do not think that I----"

"Well, WHAT do you think, Mr. Shoreham?" asked Mrs. Monson, smiling,
for she saw that Julia was too much mortified to speak, and