peat the
information, and assure Miss Pole she could easily get her the
identical Shetland wool required "through my uncle, who has the best
assortment of Shetland goods of any one in Edinbro'." It was to take
the taste of this out of our mouths, and the sound of this out of our
ears, that Miss Jenkyns proposed music: so I say again, it was very
good of her to beat time to the song.

When the trays reappeared with biscuits and wine, punctually at a
quarter to nine, there was conversation, comparing of cards, and
talking over tricks; but by-and-by Captain Brown sported a bit of
literature.

"Have you seen any numbers of 'The Pickwick Papers'?" said he. (They
were then publishing in parts.) "Capital thing!"

Now, Miss Jenkyns was daughter of a deceased rector of Cranford, and
on the strength of a number of manuscript sermons and a pretty good
library of divinity considered herself literary, and looked upon any
conversation about books as a challenge to her. So she answered and
said, "Yes, she had seen them; indeed, she might say she had read
them."

"And what do you think of them?" exclaimed Captain Brown. "Aren't they
famously good?"

So urged, Miss Jenkyns could not but speak.

"I must say, I don't think they are by any means equal to Dr. Johnson.
Still, perhaps, the author is young. Let him persevere, and who knows
what he may become if he will take the great Doctor for his model."

This was evidently too much for Captain Brown to take placidly; and I
saw the words on the tip of his tongue before Miss Jenkyns had
finished her sentence.

"It is quite a different sort of thing, my dear madam," he began.

"I am quite aware of that," returned she; "and I make allowances,
Captain Brown."

"Just allow me to read you a scene out of this month's number,"
pleaded he. "I had it only this morning, and I don't think the company
can have read it yet."

"As you please," said she, settling herself with an air of
resignation. He read the account of the "swarry" which Sam Weller gave
at Bath. Some of us laughed heartily. I did not dare, because I was
staying in the house. Miss Jenkyns sat in patient gravity. When it was
ended, she turned to me, and said, with mild dignity:--

"Fetch me 'Rasselas,' my dear, out of the book-room."

When I brought it to her, she turned to Captain Brown:--

"Now allow _me_ to read you a scene, and then the present company can
judge between your favorite Mr. Boz and Dr. Johnson."

She r