No one said "Amen" to the praises heaped on some
really deserving people by ----, but several put in a palliating
"_pourtant_" to the ill-natured remarks made by ----, whose habit of
abusing all who chance to be named is quite as remarkable as the
other's habit of praising. I would prefer being attacked by ---- to
being lauded by ----, for the extravagance of the eulogiums of the
latter would excite more ill-will towards me than the censures of the
other, as the self-love of the listeners disposes them to feel more
kindly to the one they can pity, than to the person they are disposed
to envy.

I never look at dear, good Madame C---, without thinking how soon we
may,--nay, we must lose her. At her very advanced age we cannot hope
that she will be long spared to us; yet her freshness of heart and
wonderful vivacity of mind would almost cheat one into a hope of her
long continuing amongst us.

She drove out with me yesterday to the Bois de Boulogne, and, when
remarking how verdant and beautiful all around was looking, exclaimed,
"Ah! why is no second spring allowed to us? I hear," continued she,
"people say they would not like to renew their youth, but I cannot
believe them. There are times--would you believe it?--that I forget my
age, and feel so young in imagination that I can scarcely bring myself
to think this heart, which is still so youthful, can appertain to the
same frame to which is attached this faded and wrinkled face," and she
raised her hand to her cheek. "Ah! my dear friend, it is a sad, sad
thing to mark this fearful change, and I never look in my mirror
without being shocked. The feelings ought to change with the person,
and the heart should become as insensible as the face becomes
withered."

"The change in the face is so gradual, too," continued Madame C----.
"We see ourselves after thirty-five, each day looking a little less
well (we are loath to think it ugly), and we attribute it not to the
true cause, the approach of that enemy to beauty--age,--but to some
temporary indisposition, a bad night's rest, or an unbecoming cap. We
thus go on cheating ourselves, but not cheating others, until some day
when the light falls more clearly on our faces, and the fearful truth
stands revealed. Wrinkles have usurped the place of dimples; horrid
lines, traced by Time, have encircled the eyelids; the eyes, too, no
longer bright and pellucid, become dim; the lips dry and colourless,
the teeth yellow, and the cheek