us in expectation of
hearing something fine. "I decidedly am of opinion," said that great
man, "that woman's sphere is greatly misunderstood, and that you
maintain the dignity of your glorious sex by carving the fish.--Yet on
being further interrogated, I should be inclined to proceed with my
statement, and assert that you deprive us of pleasure, in debarring us
from giving you our assistance."

"Then, why don't you help us with our samplers? why don't you aid us
in our knitting? why don't you assist us in hemming garments?"--exclaimed
Miss Hendy, digging her spoon into the oyster-boat.

"This is what I call the feast and flow," said Mr Pitskiver; while Mr
Whalley nearly shook his head off his shoulders on to the table-cloth.
The young ladies looked slyly at Mr Pitskiver, and laughed.

"It would be rather undignified," said Mr Bristles, "to see the Lord
Chancellor darning a stocking."

"Dignity! the very thing I complain of. Why more undignified in a Lord
Chancellor, or a Bishop, than in his wife? Oh, will the time never
come when society will be so regenerated, that man will know his own
position, and woman--noble, elevating, surprising woman--will assume
the rank to which her powers and virtues entitle her!"

Mr Bristles was very hungry, and at that moment received his
plate.--"Really, Miss Hendy," he said, with his mouth prodigiously
distended with codfish--"there's no arguing against such eloquence. I
must give in." But Miss Hendy, who had probably lunched, determined to
accept no surrender.--"No," she cried--"you shall _not_ give in, till
I have overwhelmed you with reasons for your submission. A great move
is in progress--woman's rights and duties are becoming every day more
widely appreciated. The old-fashioned scale must be re-adjusted, and
woman--noble, elevating, surprising woman--ascend to the loftiest
eminence, and sit superior on the topmost branch of the social tree."

Mr Whalley, whose professional ear was caught by the last word, broke
through his usual rule of only nodding his remarks, and ventured to
say--"Uncommon bad climbers, for the most part in general, is women.
Their clothes isn't adapted for it.--I minds once I see a woman climb
a pole after a leg of mutting."

If looks could have killed Mr Whalley, Mr Pitskiver's eyes would
certainly have been tried for murder; but that matter-of-fact
individual was impervious to the most impassioned glances. Miss Hendy
sank her face in horror over her