f it: the whole of his unentailed
property, which was very large, he bequeathed to her.

She was very fond of the society of literati, though without the
pretence of belonging to their order. But her manners constituted her
chief attraction: while they were utterly different from those of every
one else, you could not, in the least minutiae, discover in what the
difference consisted: this is, in my opinion, the real test of perfect
breeding. While you are enchanted with the effect, it should possess
so little prominency and peculiarity, that you should never be able to
guess the cause.

"Pray," said Lord Vincent to Mr. Wormwood, "have you been to P--this
year?"

"No," was the answer.

"I have, my lord," said Miss Trafford, who never lost an opportunity of
slipping in a word.

"Well, and did they make you sleep, as usual, at the Crown, with the
same eternal excuse, after having brought you fifty miles from town,
of small house--no beds--all engaged--inn close by? Ah, never shall I
forget that inn, with its royal name, and its hard beds--

"'Uneasy sleeps a head beneath the Crown!'"

"Ha, ha! Excellent!" cried Miss Trafford, who was always the first in
at the death of a pun. "Yes, indeed they did: poor old Lord Belton,
with his rheumatism; and that immense General Grant, with his asthma;
together with three 'single men,' and myself, were safely conveyed to
that asylum for the destitute."

"Ah! Grant, Grant!" said Lord Vincent, eagerly, who saw another
opportunity of whipping in a pun. "He slept there also the same night
I did; and when I saw his unwieldy person waddling out of the door the
next morning, I said to Temple, 'Well, that's the largest Grant I ever
saw from the Crown.'" [Note: It was from Mr. J. Smith that Lord Vincent
purloined this pun.]

"Very good," said Wormwood, gravely. "I declare, Vincent, you are
growing quite witty. Do you remember Jekyl? Poor fellow, what a really
good punster he was--not agreeable though--particularly at dinner--no
punsters are. Mr. Davison, what is that dish next to you?"

Mr. Davison was a great gourmand: "Salmi de perdreaux aux truffes,"
replied the political economist.

"Truffles!" said Wormwood, "have you been eating any?"

"Yes," said Davison, with unusual energy, "and they are the best I have
tasted for a long time."

"Very likely," said Wormwood, with a dejected air. "I am particularly
fond of them, but I dare not touch one--truffles are so very
apoplectic-