VOL. I.] 3 Journal of Choice Beading, A SELECTED FROM FOREIGN CURRENT LITERATURE. SATURDAY, MAY 26, 1866. WAITING FOR THE WAGON. A LONDON STREET PHOTOGRAPH. A NEAR cut to the Farringdon Street Station (they have, one and all, the misfortune to be villanously dirty cuts) from Islington is through a narrow alley beside the Clerkenwell Sessions House. [No. 21. sat on? I wonder if her fat grandson has discovered it, and whether he has yet found time to count it? I wonder · But at that point there is an end to speculation, for now I had approached somewhat closer there was plainly to be seen a good five inches of nightcap frill projecting beyond the doorpost of the coalshed, while what in the gloom I had mistaken to be a hearse became a prison omnibus. I experienced considerable relief when I discovered that the occasion of the assembly was of not so melancholy a nature as I had at first surmised; nevertheless, there was the crowd and there was the police van; what was the matter? Ordinarily it is a commonplace alley, and possesses no other uncommon feature than that there is a coal-shed in it, and that usually, just within the door of the coal-shed, and seated on an upturned coke-measure, may be seen one of the queerestlooking old ladies in London. How many years she has sat on that measure is impossible to guess; a There were plenty of people about to tell me if good many without doubt, for the iron hoop that I wanted to know (and I did want to know very edges it is worn as bright as a wedding ring. She much), but which among them should I ask? The is a tiny old woman; if she was to sit in the meas- majority of the members of the crowd were women; ure instead of outside of it, you would be able to mostly of the fashionably dressed sort, with monsee no more of her than her tremendous, snowy-strous skirts and flashy shawls and magnificent bonwhite, long-frilled nightcap, heading the measure nets: some had veils, but of the faces of those who like the froth of a pot of beer. Her teeth, although had not, owing to the increasing dusk, little could long, are of not nearly so good a color as the strings be seen; nor was it at all necessary to see their of her nightcap, and she has lean, long-fingered, faces, the object being to glean something of their dirty hands, and, as far as my observation extends, character, for despite the magnificent bonnets, and takes the money, and is grandmother, I should say, the neck-chains, and the finger-rings, they stood in to the over-fat, middle-aged man who weighs the the attitude of basket-women, on the path, in the coals, and attends to the barrow business, (they let gutter, and leaning against the posts, in close contrucks and barrows, as a board over the door in-verse with hulking, crop-headed ruffians, with shawls forms you; over the coal-scales there is another, on which "No trust," in chalk, is inscribed in a shaky but determined hand,—that of the old lady, might be safely wagered,) and who seems to go in considerable awe of her, and to comport himself as though if he did not keep a steady eye on her she might at any moment cut him off with a shilling. round their throats and the peaks of their dogskin caps pulled down over their restless eyes; and with slim, black-coated prigs of fellows, with pale hands and faces, and with an ever-watchful look about them, as though they might be called on at any moment to run a race with somebody, and everything depended on catching the signal to be off, and obSeveral times I had passed through the alley intaining a fair start; in close converse with such men question, but always in the morning, and always, as I have before observed, found it just an ordinary poor-neighborhood alley, but for the exceptional feature mentioned. One day, however, I chanced to have occasion to take this way in the afternoon, when I found my alley in an extraordinary state of commotion. It was a dismal January afternoon, damp, raw, and bitter cold, and fast approaching dusk. As I came on the entrance to the alley I saw a great black hearse-like vehicle blocking up the narrow road, and round about it, and crowded on the pavement opposite it, was quite a mob of people. My first thought was that the little old woman had at last fallen off the coke-measure, had died, and was about to be buried. Poor old thing! I wonder, after all, if she did keep all her money under the bushel she as these were the splendid women whispering, and swearing horribly in whispers; which these men did not do; they swore horribly too, but when, in the midst of their whispering, they found it necessary to utter an oath or a blasphemy, they broke out of the whisper and did it in their natural voice. I never before heard blasphemy uttered in whispers, and I suppose it was the novelty that made it seem so much more awful. Clearly these were not the individuals to whom one could apply for any sort of information. But they were not all of the above-mentioned hideous quality, at least, they did not seem to be. The exceptions were the solitary ones women as a rule with enough of the infamous brand, to be sure, to distinguish them from honest folks, but still, with such woful foreboding in their weary faces, so aghast and wide-eyed, such agony of fear and doubt and anxiety, that it was impossible to do aught than commiserate their concern without even being aware of its cause. Which, of course, in this advanced age, when to be real is to be vulgar, when my lady plasters her face, and is as finished an impostor as Bet Flinders of Seven Dials, who assumes, by the aid of chalk and slate powder, a galloping consumption before she sets out on her daily excursion; when swindling has become a science; when we look about us and discover these things and a thousand others of the same cut and fashion, to believe in what one sees becomes simply ridiculous, and if extensively indulged in would be a very direct means of sapping and undermining the British constitution, and lead to the downfall of the lion and the unicorn in no time. Nothing that I know of," replies she, sharply, and looking another way, as though in no humor for conversation. "But what are the people waiting for, — what are you waiting for? "I repeat. This, then, accounted for the untidy hair and the swollen nose, and one or two unbusiness-like tokens I had observed in the cadger and her son. She was not " at work." Her husband (perhaps it was the ghastly, smooth-frocked countryman who, panting and with an already fallen jaw, huddles over a hamper full of stale chickweed and groundsel) had come to grief, and she had come to bid him good Here before me is a case in which I for one am not so silly as to believe. A little way past the coal- "It ain't no business of yours," replied she, "or shed, and lurking in a doorway that is exactly op- else I would n't be ashamed to tell you. I ain't posite to the little black door in the stone wall ashamed now to tell you," continued she, defiantly. already mentioned, is a woman and a boy. She is "I'll tell you if you want to know, stranger as you a young woman and wretchedly clad. The mud on are. I'm waiting for my husband. He's in there" the pavement is an inch deep, but the young woman (pointing at the little black door on which she has slippers on her feet,-thin prunella things such had all along constantly kept her red-rimmed eyes), as women wear about the house. But the slip-slop" and I'm waiting to get one more look at him and slippers do not impose on me. I bear in mind the a word with him if I can as he is getting into the story of the old woman who for more than twenty van." years lived like a princess. People pitied her so because of her incurable sores; the medical faculty pronounced them incurable, and unanimously declared that never before had they seen the like; it transpired that the wounds were of the old lady's own making, -a biting acid being the agent employed. The other day there was to be seen on the way to Highgate a poor man tormented by elephantiasis, writhing and wriggling, as, seated on a door-by. step, he exhibited his bare arm; now he is wriggling on a treadmill, an over-inquisitive Samaritan (how the rascal must have blessed him!) having discovered the cause of the painful malady in a length of whipcord bound tightly beneath the shoulders. When I reflect on these ingenious devices for exciting charitable emotions in the breast of the chance beholder, the slip-slop slippers win from me but contempt. I am equally proof against the shawl, -a thin washed-out cotton rag, arranged so artistically that her sharp square shoulders are distinctly visible through it, and it is only made to cover her bosom by the aid of a stout brass pin, and much perilous stretching. She is not at all an interesting young woman. Her nose is red and swollen through excessive grief (onions I should say), and from the same cause there is a red rim round each dull eye, rendered the more conspicuous because of the whiteness of her face. Her hair is untidy, and a wisp of it is looping over her forehead and down to her swollen nose almost. The boy with her is, I must do her the justice to say, evidently not a hired boy. He is her own, as exactly like her as possible. Like her, he is pale; from head to foot he is pale; he wears a long white holland pinafore, a white collar, and a grayish pepper-and-salt Glengarry cap on his fair-haired head. Certainly the boy's "get up was superior to that of the mother. It was not overdone. He was a magnificent specimen of the regular pale-all-over boy, the child of "poor though honest" parents. No doubt the reader has seen him, for he is wofully common, especially in neighborhoods where mangling is done, and washing and ironing taken in, and carpets taken up and beat, and light porters' work | "Your husband!" said I. "What, then, is the matter? What do they accuse him of?" "Of no more than he is guilty," said she. "They 've put him away for six months for stealing an old stove not worth a shilling. What was the use of it to us? We had nothing to burn in it, nothing to cook at it. Never mind, they took him, and he's got six months. Just tell me, what am I to do but steal too? How is this child to be fed if I don't steal? I'll do it, by and before I get home this night, too. Never mind, Joey. You sha'n't go short, Joe." Joe did cry, however, and hid his white face in a corner of the washed-out shawl. It was such a capital piece of acting that I gave Joe a shilling on the spot. It was well invested, for besides being a study of "jail-bird life," it had gained me the information I required, at least it gave me clew enough to enable me to guess the rest. To-day had been a day for trying prisoners, and the jail-birds having received their sentences, the prison-van was waiting to convey them to their cages. Those waiting about were the jail-birds' friends and relations, -kindred vultures and kites and butcher-birds, and in many cases free only by grace of Police Constable Bungle of the XX Division, and they were there to say farewell to the snared ones. By keeping my ears open, too, I was presently put in possession of a fact which astonished me not a little. Some of the vultures in waiting, although well assured that their friends had been tried that day, knew nothing of the terms of their sentence, nor would they know until the culprit himself told them on his passage from the jail to the omnibus. This was clear; for artfully listening to a conversa tion going on between one of the magnificent women before mentioned and two of the hairy-capped ones, these scraps of it reached my ears. "Six months, indeed! You forget who tried him." "No I don't," said the woman; "it's a good six year since he was pegged here; he stands as good as a fust offence a'most. He won't get more than six months." "Well, they'll be comin' out in a minute, and if we don't shift nigher to the van, we sha'n't be no wiser than we are now." "The brazen wretch!" said somebody at my elbow; and looking round, there was my female friend with her little boy. At the very instant out came her husband. A gaunt, big-boned young man in ragged fustian, stained as though he had tried his hand at no end of things. He came out of the prison smiling, and evidently bent on smiling, but when he saw the woman and the boy he broke down. "Good by, dear! Good by, Joe! You must keep up, you know, even for the boy's sake, and when He was the last, and in a jiffy the doors were slammed to, and locked, the driver chirped to his horses, and there was an end to the business. OUR FRIENDS' FRIENDS. The speaker was right, for scarcely had they sauntered towards the ominous-looking vehicle than there was a bustle among the policemen, who ranged themselves in a double row extending from the prison to the van door, and then the little door in the stone wall was opened, revealing a passage lined with policemen and well lit with gas. The excitement THAT " our friends' friends are our friends," I among the mob began to be very great. Such as have heard repeated so frequently, that I begin to could pressed round the door through which the pris- think some danger exists of the phrase taking root oners would presently emerge; but such of them who and rank as a proverb; and to any such result I enwere kept back by the police, and lost all chance of tertain grave objections. Like those meat-lozenges a farewell peep at their friends, set up a shouting which contain the sustenance of a whole family, and of their names, the deep voices of the bull-dog yet are so small and compact they can be stowed men and the shrill voices of the women curiously away conveniently in one's waistcoat pocket, so mingling, in hopes that those called on would hear proverbs are libraries of wise writings, vast treasures and answer. "Peter! Peter! I'm here, Peter!" of experience condensed and compressed into brief "Johnny! Johnny Sullivan !" "What cheer, lines, which can be carried easily in the memory. Jack! Give us a word, Jack! Suke's here, Jack, Still it behooves us to have our meat-lozenges and lad!" "That you, Teddy? Good by, old son!" our proverbs alike made of proper materials, or much "Peter! I'm here, Peter!" The Babel was bad inconvenience may arise. In fact, just as we have, enough before the prisoners emerged, but when they now and then, a committee testing the purity of our did, being handed along the passage, and out into food, so we need that occasionally a sort of inquest the street from officer to officer, with the greatest should be held touching our proverbs; to pronounce solicitude, the hubbub was truly deafening. Peter, upon their worth, and decide as to the presence of a smart young pickpocket, responded cheerfully to adulteration in their composition. It is desirable the call for him, bawling to Jane that he was all that at intervals a spurious proverb should be, as it right, and that she was to be sure to keep up her were, nailed to the counter, and its falsity adverpecker. Next came a melancholy man, well dressed tised. At present, there is no security about the and with gray hair, whose pale face nobody recog-matter; we are without guaranties of any kind. It nized, and who passed into the van wofully cast down. Then came the person whom the magnificent woman had protested would only get six months. "There he is! There's Jerry! How much, Jerry?" "Three stretch!" replied Jerry, mournfully, and in he went without another word. What a "stretch" may be I won't attempt to guess; but when Jerry's friends heard that he was afflicted with three of them, they stared at each other aghast, and one of the men said to the women, "Now what do you think of your six months, Poll?" To which Poll replied nothing, but began mopping at her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief in a very affecting manner. Then followed in quick succession Jacks, Teddys, and Johnnys. Johnny was a spry young thief aged about nineteen, and the young female waiting for him resolutely thrust both her hands (there was a ring on the marriage finger) on each side of a policeman's ears, and endeavored to touch Johnny as he passed; this, of course, could not be allowed. "Never mind, old gal; kiss the kid for me, will yer? It will soon spin round, don't yer know," said he, his voice growing fainter as he penetrated into the van, the latter few words being cut off almost by the slamming of the door of his compartment. is open to any man to utter a terse line, and proclaim it a proverb. There are always undiscriminating people about upon whom a bad half-crown can be palmed off; similarly, there are always crowds to be found willing to accept and reverence as a genuine article any utterance that has the outward semblance of a proverb. For proverbs are unquestionably popular. They are very handy and convenient. A man may set up for being a sage on the strength of a stock of them, if he will only quote them with a decent regard for appositeness; and in the hands of an ordinary disputant, a wise saw is a favorite weapon of offence. "You know the proverb," he begins, and forthwith proceeds to knock down his interlocutor with a sage-sounding apophthegm, -a string of words closely pressed together, like pig-tail tobacco, until it is hard in substance, and sharp at the corners, and capable of inflicting a trenchant blow. Moreover, in general estimation, a proverb is a final judgment; from it there is no appeal, and whoever presumes to run counter to it, or to express disbelief in it, or contempt for it, is regarded as a curiously abominable person, altogether out of the pale of social convention, standing apart from human sympathies, occupying an isolated situation; much as that German theologian in the story, who startled a party of grave divines discussing a doctrinal question, by Then came a great ruffian with handcuffs on, and stating "that Saint Paul was no doubt a clever looking still unsafe without a muzzle; then a woman, but that for his part he did n't agree with him." man, who playfully chucked the officer on the van If you don't believe in proverbs, the distilled essteps under the chin, and went in laughing. sence of wisdom, - what do you believe in? the world demands indignantly, and at once declines | little doubt that much the same sort of discussion all further discussion with the unbeliever. This being the state of the case, it becomes desirable that every man who encounters a spurious or delusive proverb stealing into life and credit, should do his best to knock it on the head, and put an end to it as speedily as may be. He should root out at once, as he would a weed in his garden, any such erroneous maxim, for the longer it is permitted to remain choking and hindering the growth of genuine flowers of wisdom, so certainly will it become more mischievous, and the more difficult to destroy. In the present instance, I want to say a few words in opposition to the notion above mentioned as to our friends' friends being our friends. Our friends' friends our friends? They are nothing of the kind. Let us state a case in point. took place between Jones and Robinson in relation to myself. However, Jones met me at once (as he probably met Robinson) with a statement that it really was not right in such matters to be in too great a hurry; that, Robinson's merits were not perhaps of a nature so superficial and transparent as to be discernible on the instant, but still, that they were existent, indisputable, all the same. Jones pledged his word as to such being the case; and that, in reference to such a superior man as Robinson, whom I should some day learn to love and value as I ought, it did not do at all to adopt hasty views, or to rush precipitately to unfavorable conclusions. Much matter of the same kind was urged by my friend Jones. But I am bound to say, that, notwithstanding my immense regard for Jones, his arguments have not greatly affected my opinions. I think just the same of Robinson as I did at the beginning; I did n't like him then, and I don't like him now; and if Jones still imagines - and he does so, unquestionably-that I shall ever be brought to regard his friend as I do himself; to make his friend my friend, in fact; well, then, Jones is very much mistaken, that's all I've got to say about the matter. My name is Brown, we'll say. I have a friend named Jones. He has a friend named Robinson. I have a great regard for Jones. I have no regard at all for Robinson. Why should I have any regard for Robinson? That is the question. Robinson has no regard for me. We meet occasionally-not oftener than we can help, I dare say—and are tolerably civil to each other, out of respect for our common friend Jones; but I decline to consider Now, how is this state of things to be accounted Jones's friend as my friend. I don't like him; I see for? How is it that from the first Robinson and I nothing in him; he appears to me a singularly un- have stood aloof from each other? We shake hands interesting and disagreeable person. I'm at a loss as warmly as possible with Jones; as coldly as may to understand what peculiar charm Robinson pos- be with each other. We talk in the most intimate sesses that draws Jones to him; at the same time, and friendly way with Jones; very distantly and I've no doubt whatever that Robinson does n't like monosyllabically with each other. If, in the presme (for it's an understood rule that the people we ence of my friend and his friend, I venture upon a don't like don't like us). I dare say he sees nothing jocose observation, I can always rely upon Jones's in me; thinks me dull and disagreeable; and is at a hearty laughter and applause; even if the kindly loss to understand what peculiar charm I possess fellow is not really amused by my small sally, he that draws his friend Jones to me. Meanwhile, feigns so to be, so admirably, that it does just as Jones one of the kindest and most amiable of well; whereas Robinson looks preternaturally grave, men, bless his heart!—is striving, has been striving and evidently sees nothing in what I have said to for long years, to bring us together, to make us un-justify mirth, but quite the contrary. If I tell a derstand and like each other. Very soon after I had the pleasure of making his acquaintance- an acquaintance which, I am happy to say, has since ripened into a most cordial friendship-I remember good old Jones saying, in his cheery, hearty way: "By the by, I must introduce you to my friend Robinson. I must make a point of it. Robinson is a very superior fellow; in fact, he's one of the best of fellows. You'll like Robinson so much; I'm sure you will. You're just suited to each other. You'll get on capitally together, not a doubt of it"; and so on. story, Robinson trumps it with a better one, — or casts doubt or ridicule upon my narrative,- or suggests that it is not true, or that it is by no means new: that he heard it first when he was a schoolboy; and then he demands, with "bitter irony," as it is called in novels, whether I am prepared with any further quotations from Joe Miller's Jest-book? Of course, I feel bound, as a matter of self-respect, to pursue a somewhat analogous course of action in regard to Robinson. He does n't presume to make jokes, or anything approaching them, probably for very sufficient reasons. But occasionally he atOf course, after this, we were duly brought to- tempts what he considers, doubtless, a sagacious and gether, and introduced. Well, the result was a superior observation: some threadbare platitude total failure, we did n't find that we were in the spoken sententiously, with ridiculous solemnity of least suited to each other; we didn't get on at all manner. Poor old Jones bless him, I say again! capitally together. Some inexplicable hitch inter- - listens attentively, looks sympathetic, and tries to fered with the success of Jones's plans. He was think that he has been enlightened by Robinson's disappointed, it was evident; he had expected a dreariness. I make it an invariable rule to grin osdifferent result. Still, he was not, he never has tentatiously on those occasions, to treat Robinson's been, without hope that the same excellent under-remark as though, instead of being full of meaning standing that exists between him and his friends may be eventually established between his friends themselves. I ventured to suggest that perhaps in the exceeding kindliness of his nature- he had somewhat overrated the good qualities, if such existed, of Robinson; I think I went a little further, and avowed that, to be plain with him (Jones), I did not entertain a very high opinion of Robinson, and failed to see any legitimate grounds for his (Jones's) extraordinary partiality for him. I have and purpose, it were intensely and wildly funny; reward him with sarcastic applause, and recommend him by all means to become a contributor to the comic periodicals of the day. He does n't look particularly pleasant after this conduct of mine; perhaps it would be a little surprising if he were to look so. Meanwhile, Jones-with perhaps a dash of suspicion that everything is not as it should bepats us both on the back, laughs with one side of his mouth, in justice to my powers of humor, and draws down the other side of his mouth, out of compliment to Robinson's pompous seriousness, and looks forward hopefully to a time when we shall understand each other better, and be brought nearer together, and be, altogether, as thoroughly en rappart with each other as we are with him, which, I have no hesitation in saying, we never shall be, or anything like it. |- with a sigh that demonstrates she hopes without confidence, almost against hope, that everything may prove to be ordered for the best, and that in the long run he may be happy with his idol; whom it is clear she holds to be a young person of small account, successful, by play with her eyes and other female artifices, in entrapping the affections of a rather weak young man. Does a father ever love his daughter's lover? Does he not rather look upon him as his natural enemy: upsetting his household gods, breaking up his domestic circle, and stealing from him his child? Has not the indignant parent become, as a consequence, one of the most well Now, if I thought that this was an individual and peculiar case, having reference to myself alone, and attributable wholly to my own eccentric idiosyncrasy, I should hesitate very much about setting it forth in this full and frank way. I should conclude that my inability to tolerate Jones's friend, Robin-known and hackneyed of figures on the stage of life; son, was a sort of congenital and constitutional mal- and is not his indignation invariably kindled by the ady, regarding which physicians were in vain, and fact, that his daughter has chosen for herself a friend which it behooved me therefore to endure and carry who cannot be his friend? When at last he conto my grave as composedly and decorously as I sents to her union, is it not with loud lamentation might. But I find that the difficulty I feel about over her folly and degeneracy, and with a severe accepting my friend's friend as my friend is reflect- distrust of the integrity of the man who is about to ed and repeated around me on all sides. It pervades call her wife? Does he not wrangle with him over society. I am convinced that every man has a the settlement to be made upon the marriage: tying friend against whose friends he finds it necessary to him up at last in the tightest suit of parchment fetprotest strongly. I know that my old friend, Green, ters the law can furnish? Does he not consider we'll say, cannot, for the life of him, understand him as a person capable, upon the shortest notice, my attachment to Jones. He sees nothing in Jones; of dying and leaving his widow totally unprovided thinks him he has avowed as much obtuse and for, or of becoming bankrupt and destitute, with tiresome in the extreme. In Green's eyes, my the most evil intentions of applying his wife's propfriendship for Jones is as unaccountable as, in my erty to the relief of his own necessities, and of subeyes, is Jones's friendship for Robinson. I doubt jecting her, personally, to all sorts of gross ill-usage? not, also, that Robinson has a friend, named Grey, Can anything be more forlorn and fearful than the possibly, who is wholly at a loss to comprehend the position of a bridegroom at a wedding-breakfast? tie which binds Robinson to Jones. Green and True, he has the support of his friend the groomsGrey view Jones as I view Robinson, and as Robin- man on the occasion, who, however, does not look son views me. Each gives his friendship to his cordially on the bride, and maintains within himself friend, but forbids its being passed on to his friend's that his friend has made a very decided mistake in friend. The thing is not transferable. You may leading her to the altar, and will bitterly rue his keep it yourself, or may give it back to its donor; marriage-day before no very long time is over his but you must not hand it over to your neighbor on head. But every one else is at war with the bridethe farther side of you. Instances in point are con- groom. The father and mother are of course against stantly recurring. It seems to me I never hear of a him, and fail altogether to understand their daughyoung lady about to be married, but there strikes ter's conduct in accepting his suit. He's her friend, upon my ear a chorus of her friends, avowing that not theirs. The bridemaids cry at him; is he not she is about to throw herself away upon a man who taking from them their dearest darling friend Mary is wholly unworthy of her, and wondering what she Jane? Again, he's her friend, and not theirs. can possibly see in him to justify her in making The bride's trustees eye him with suspicion, as a such an enormous sacrifice. So, when a man mar-man who will, without doubt, try to upset the setries, all his friends agree that they are terribly dis- tlement, and give them no end of trouble, if he has appointed in his wife. They did think that poor the chance. Speeches are made to his disadvandear old So-and-so would have made a better choice. tage. So much anxiety is expressed as to the future But here has he gone and married a woman, who happiness of the newly-wedded pair, that it is clear isn't good-looking, who has n't any money, who a good deal of doubt prevails about the business. does n't understand him, who can't appreciate him, In their friend the bride, the assembled guests have who, &c., &c., altogether, a long bill of indict-every confidence; she will, they are satisfied, do her ment against the lady, simply because she has be-duty punctiliously in her new state of life. It is in come poor dear old So-and-so's wife, and a friend whom his other friends can't be friends with. And in these cases, it should be noted, the friends of the wife or husband are only of accord in their common antagonism to the object of the wife or husband's choice; and for the better expression of this, they sink temporarily the other differences existing among and dividing them: they are only harmonious singing this one chorus; that over, a hopeless discord prevails among them again. relation to her friend and husband that their misgivings arise,-gathering above his head like a dark cloud. Should he conduct himself worthily, they frankly avow they shall be agreeably disappointed. But if otherwise, the sad satisfaction will remain to them, that they predicted as much from the very first moment they learned of their dear friend's intended marriage with a friend who was no friend of theirs. Of course, I do not pretend to say that this diffiDoes a mother ever love her son's lady-love?culty of accounting our friends' friends as our friends Does she not always, announcing his engagement, is a matter of modern discovery, a sensation of speak of him with a sort of fond pity as "Poor quite modern growth. The thing has been noted Charles" (or Thomas, or Henry, as the case may be); "he's so impulsive, you know, and he became quite infatuated about the girl. What could we do but consent?" And then she proceeds to hope, and descanted upon long ago. I decline, therefore, to accept in regard to it that standing solution of all questions which certain sages are forever proffering us, the moral obliquity and cynicism of the age. |