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an affection for all, with not a few of the
half-tints in addition."
"I am afraid they are too _prononcées_ for us, by this description. I am
no great admirer, Grace, of walking rainbows."
"Too Green, you would have said, had you dared; but you are a Hajji
too, and even the Greens know that a Hajji never puns, unless, indeed,
it might be one from Philadelphia. But you will visit these people?"
"Certainly, if they are in society and render it necessary by their own
civilities."
"They are in society, in virtue of their rights as Hajjis; but, as they
passed three months at Paris, you probably know something of them."

"They may not have been there at the same time with ourselves,"
returned Eve, quietly, "and Paris is a very large town. Hundreds of
people come and go, that one never hears of. I do not remember those
you have mentioned."
"I wish you may escape them, for, in my untravelled judgment, they are
anything but agreeable, notwithstanding all they have seen, or pretend
to have seen."
"It is very possible to have been all over christendom, and to remain
exceedingly disagreeable; besides one may see a great deal, and yet see
very little of a good quality."
A pause of two or three minutes followed, during which Eve read a
note, and her cousin played with the leaves of a book.
"I wish I knew your real opinion of us, Eve," the last suddenly
exclaimed. "Why not be frank with so near a relative; tell me honestly,
now--are you reconciled to your country?"
"You are the eleventh person who has asked me this question, which I
find very extraordinary, as I have never quarrelled with my country."
"Nay, I do not mean exactly that. I wish to hear how our society has
struck one who has been educated abroad."
"You wish, then, for opinions that can have no great value, since my
experience at home, extends only to a fortnight. But you have many
books on the country, and some written by very clever persons; why
not consult them?"
"Oh! you mean the travellers. None of them are worth a second thought,
and we hold them, one and all, in great contempt."
"Of that I can have no manner of doubt, as one and all, you are
constantly protesting it, in the highways and bye-ways. There is no
more certain sign of contempt, than to be incessantly dwelling on its
intensity!"

Grace had great quickness, as well as her cousin, and though provoked
at Eve's quiet hit, she had the good sense and the good nature to laugh.
"Perhaps we do protest and disdain a little too strenuously for good
taste, if not to gain believers; but surely, Eve, you do not support these
travellers in all that they have written of us?"
"Not in half, I can assure you. My father and cousin Jack have
discussed them too often in my presence to leave me in ignorance of
the very many political blunders they have made in particular."
"Political blunders!--I know nothing of them, and had rather thought
them right, in most of what they said about our politics. But, surely,
neither your father nor Mr. John Effingham corroborates what they say
of our society!"
"I cannot answer for either, on that point."
"Speak then for yourself. Do you think them right?"
"You should remember, Grace, that I have not yet seen any society in
New-York."
"No society, dear!--Why you were at the Henderson's, and the
Morgan's, and the Drewett's; three of the greatest _réunions_ that we
have had in two winters!"'
"I did not know that you meant those unpleasant crowds, by society."
"Unpleasant crowds! Why, child, that is society, is it not?'
"Not what I have been taught to consider such; I rather think it would
be better to call it company."
"And is not this what is called society in Paris?"
"As far from it as possible; it may be an excrescence of society; one of
its forms; but, by no means, society itself. It would be as true to call
cards, which are sometimes introduced in the world, society, as to call a

ball given in two small and crowded rooms, society. They are merely
two of the modes in which idlers endeavour to vary their amusements."
"But we have little else than these balls, the morning visits, and an
occasional evening, in which there is no dancing."
"I am sorry to hear it; for, in that case, you can have no society."
"And is it different at Paris--or Florence, or Rome?"
"Very. In Paris there are many houses open every evening to which one
can go, with little ceremony. Our sex appears in them, dressed
according to what a gentleman I overheard conversing at