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How, when she comes to pay us a visit, we generally find an opportunity to let our friends know her station in the world! She wouldn't miss it, says your wife. She is my aunt, say you, in an easy careless way, when your friend asks if Miss MacWhirter is any relative.

She sent twenty noats a day to ask for him, calling him her beloved, her unfortunat, her hero, her wictim, and I dono what. I've kep some of the noats, as I tell you, and curiously sentimentle they are, beating the sorrows of MacWhirter all to nothing. Old Crabs used to come offen, and consumed a power of wine and seagars at our house.

'We, said MacWhirter, 'are humble amateurs, and to us you are more than excellent. 'Good old Monsieur Fanniere, how he would scold me! He said I would not take my talent out of the napkin. He would quote me the New Testament. I always think Scripture false in French, do not you? 'Er my acquaintance with modern languages is not extensive, I regret to say. 'No?

You won't open while you're watched. He nudged Allport facetiously with his elbow. After supper, which was late and badly served, the young men were in poor spirits. Mr MacWhirter retired to read. Mr Holiday sat picking his teeth; Mr. Allport begged Vera to play the piano. 'Oh, the piano is not my instrument; mine was the violin, but I do not play now, she replied.

But that was her way; she was always reading melancholy stoary books "Thaduse of Wawsaw," the "Sorrows of MacWhirter," and such like. After about 6 of them, master never yoused to read them, but handid them over to me, to see if there was anythink in them which must be answered, in order to kip up appearuntses. The next letter is No. "BELOVED! to what strange madnesses will passion lead one!