very much upon
yourself to counteract it."

"Impossible! my perceptions are so peculiarly alive to all that is
obnoxious to them that I could as soon preach my eyes into blindness, or
my ears into deafness, as put down my feelings with chopping logic. If
people _will_ be affected and ridiculous, why must I live in a state of
warfare with myself on account of the feelings they rouse within me?"

"If people _will_ be irritable," said Mary, laughing, "why must others
sacrifice their feelings to gratify them?"

"Because mine are natural feelings, and theirs are artificial. A very
saint must sicken at sight of affectation, you'll allow. Vulgarity, even
innate vulgarity, is bearable--stupidity itself is pardonable--but
affectation is never to be endured or forgiven."

"It admits of palliation, at least," answered Mary. "I dare say there are
many people who would have been pleasing and natural in their manners
had not their parents and teachers interfered. There are many, I
believe, who have not courage to show themselves such as they are--some
who are naturally affected and many, very many, who have been taught
affectation as a necessary branch of education."

"Yes--as my governesses would have taught me; but, thank heaven! I got
the better of them. _Fascinating_ was what they wanted to make me; but
whenever the word was mentioned, I used to knit my brows, and frown upon
them in such a sort. The frown, like now, sticks by me; but no matter--a
frowning brow is better than a false heart, and I defy anyone to say
that I am fascinating."

"There certainly must be some fascination about you, otherwise I should
never have sat so long listening to you," said Mary, as she rose from
the table at which she had been assisting to dash off the at-homes.

"But you must listen to me a little longer," cried her cousin, seizing
her hand to detain her. "I have not got half through my detestables yet;
but to humour you, I shall let them go for the present. And now, that
you mayn't suppose I am utterly insensible to excellence, you must
suffer me to show you that I can and do appreciate worth when I can find
it. I confess my talent lies fully as much in discovering the ridiculous
as the amiable; and I am equally ready to acknowledge it is a fault, and
no mark of superior wit or understanding; since it is much easier to hit
off the glaring caricature line of deformity than the finer and more
exquisite touches of beauty, especially for one