t, by a just sense of their contrast
to the group of people nearest there,--a young man of the second or
third quality--and two young girls. The eldest of these was carrying
on a vivacious flirtation with the young man, who was apparently an
acquaintance of brief standing; the other was scarcely more than a
child, and sat somewhat abashed at the sparkle of the colloquy. They
were conjecturally sisters going home from some visit, and not skilled
in the world, but of a certain repute in their country neighborhood for
beauty and wit. The young man presently gave himself out as one who, in
pursuit of trade for the dry-goods house he represented, had travelled
many thousands of miles in all parts of the country. The encounter was
visibly that kind of adventure which both would treasure up for future
celebration to their different friends; and it had a brilliancy and
interest which they could not even now consent to keep to themselves.
They talked to each other and at all the company within hearing,
and exchanged curt speeches which had for them all the sensation of
repartee.

Young Man. They say that beauty unadorned is adorned the most.

Young Woman (bridling, and twitching her head from side to side, in the
high excitement of the dialogue). Flattery is out of place.

Young Man. Well, never mind. If you don't believe me, you ask your
mother when you get home.

(Titter from the younger sister.)

Young Woman (scornfully). Umph! my mother has no control over me!

Young Man. Nobody else has, either, I should gay. (Admiringly.)

Young Woman. Yes, you've told the truth for once, for a wonder. I'm
able to take care of myself,--perfectly. (Almost hoarse with a sense of
sarcastic performance.)

Young Man. "Whole team and big dog under the wagon," as they say out
West.

Young Woman. Better a big dog than a puppy, any day.

Giggles and horror from the younger sister, sensation in the young man,
and so much rapture in the young woman that she drops the key of her
state-room from her hand. They both stoop, and a jocose scuffle for it
ensues, after which the talk takes an autobiographical turn on the part
of the young man, and drops into an unintelligible murmur. "Ah! poor
Real Life, which I love, can I make others share the delight I find in
thy foolish and insipid face?"

Not far from this group sat two Hebrews, one young and the other old,
talking of some business out of which the latter had retired. The
younger had been