of the Whistlebinkie Fencibles; but he fell at Quatre Bras,
by the side of the gallant Snuffmull, his commander. Deeply, deeply did
Miss Nancy deplore him.

But time has cicatrized the wounded heart. She is gay now, and would
sing or dance, ay, or marry if anybody asked her.

Do go, my dear friend--I don't mean to ask her to marry, but to ask her
to dance.--Never mind the looks of the thing. It will make her happy;
and what does it cost you? Ah, my dear fellow! take this counsel: always
dance with the old ladies--always dance with the governesses. It is
a comfort to the poor things when they get up in their garret that
somebody has had mercy on them. And such a handsome fellow as YOU too!

MISS RANVILLE, REV. MR. TOOP, MISS MULLINS, MR. WINTER.

Mr. W. Miss Mullins, look at Miss Ranville: what a picture of good
humor.

Miss M.--Oh, you satirical creature!

Mr. W.--Do you know why she is so angry? she expected to dance with
Captain Grig, and by some mistake, the Cambridge Professor got hold of
her: isn't he a handsome man?

Miss M.--Oh, you droll wretch!

Mr. W.--Yes, he's a fellow of college--fellows mayn't marry, Miss
Mullins--poor fellows, ay, Miss Mullins?

Miss M.--La!

Mr. W.--And Professor of Phlebotomy in the University. He flatters
himself he is a man of the world, Miss Mullins, and always dances in the
long vacation.

Miss M.--You malicious, wicked monster!

Mr. W.--Do you know Lady Jane Ranville? Miss Ranville's mamma. A ball
once a year; footmen in canary-colored livery: Baker Street; six dinners
in the season; starves all the year round; pride and poverty, you know;
I've been to her ball ONCE. Ranville Ranville's her brother, and between
you and me--but this, dear Miss Mullins, is a profound secret,--I think
he's a greater fool than his sister.

Miss M.--Oh, you satirical, droll, malicious, wicked thing you!

Mr. W.--You do me injustice, Miss Mullins, indeed you do.

[Chaine Anglaise.]

MISS JOY, MR. AND MRS. JOY, MR. BOTTER.

Mr. B.--What spirits that girl has, Mrs. Joy!

Mr. J.--She's a sunshine in a house, Botter, a regular sunshine. When
Mrs. J. here's in a bad humor, I . . .

Mrs. J.--Don't talk nonsense, Mr. Joy.

Mrs. B.--There's a hop, skip, and jump for you! Why, it beats Ellsler!
Upon my conscience it does! It's her fourteenth quadrille too. There she
goes! She's a jewel of a girl, though I say it that shouldn't.

Mrs. J. (laughing).--Why don't you marry her, Bot