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scances of society; but it was, as it were, a total surrender of her whole being. To a mind of any reflection, no situation can ever be very irksome, in which we can enjoy the privileges of sitting still and keeping silent—but as the companion of Miss Grizzy, quiet and reflection were alike unattainable. When not engaged in radotage. with Sir Sampson, her life was spent in losing her scissars, mislaying her spectacles, wondering what had become of her thimble, and speculating on the disappearance of a needle—all of which losses daily and hourly recurring, subjected Mary to an unceasing annoyance, for she could not be five minutes in her aunt’s company without being at least as many times disturbed, with —“ Mary, my dear, will you get up—I think my spectacles must be about you”— or, “Mary, my dear, your eyes are younger than mine, will you look if you can see my needle on the carpet”—or, “Are you VOL. III, I,

sure, Mary, that’s not my thimble you have got? it's very like it; and I’m sure I can't conceive what's become of mine, if that’s not it,” &c. &c. &c. But her idleness was, if possible, still more irritating than her industry. When she betook herself to the window, it was one incessant cry of “Who’s coach is that, Mary, with the green and orange liveries? Come and look at this lady and gentleman, Mary; I’m sure I wonder who they are Here’s something, I declare I’m sure I don’t know what you call it —come here, Mary, and see what it is’— and so on ad infinitum. Walking was still worse. Grizzy not only stood to examine every article in the shop windows, but actually turned round to observe every striking figure that passed. In short, Mary could not conceal from herself, that weak vulgar relations are an evil to those whose taste and ideas are refined by superior intercourse. But even this discovery she did not deem sufficient to authorise her casting off or neglecting poor Miss Grizzy, and she in no degree relaxed in her patient attentions towards her. Even the affection of her aunt, which she possessed in the highest possible degree, far from being an alleviation, was only an additional torment. Every meeting began with, “My dear Mary, how did you sleep last night Did you make a good breakfast this morning I declare I think you look a little pale. I’m sure I wish to goodness you mayn’t have got cold —colds are going very much about just now—one of the maids in this house has a very bad cold—I hope you will remember to bathe your feet, and take some water gruel to night, and do every thing that Dr. Redgill desires you, honest man!” If Mary absented herself for a day, her salutation was, “My dear Mary, what became of you yesterday? I assure you I was quite miserable about you all day, thinking, which was quite natural, that something was the matter with you; and I declare I never closed my eyes all night, for thinking about you. I assure you, if it had not been that I couldn’t leave Sir Sampson, I would have taken a hackney coach, although I know what impositions they are, and have gone to Beech Park to see what had come over you.” Yet all this Mary bore with the patience of a martyr, to the admiration of Lady Maclaughlan, and the amazement of Lady Emily, who declared, she could only submit to be bored as long as she was amused. On going to Milsom-street one morning, Mary found her aunt in high delight at two invitations she had just received for herself and her niece. “The one,” said she, “ is to dinner at Mrs. Pullens. You can’t remember her mother, Mrs. Macfuss, I daresay, Mary—she was a most excellent woman, I assure you, and got all her daughters married. And I remember Mrs. Pullens when she was Flora Macfuss; she was always thought very like her mother; and Mr. Pullens is a most worthy man, and very rich ; and it was thought at the time a great marriage for Flora Macfuss, for she had no money of her own, but her mother was a very clever woman, and a most excellent manager; and I daresay so is Mrs. Pullens, for the Macfusses are all famous for their management —so it will be a great thing for you, you know, Mary, to be acquainted with Mrs. Pullens.” Mary was obliged to break in upon the eulogium on Mrs. Pullens, by noticing the other card–This was a subject for still greater gratulation. “This” said she, “is from Mrs. Bluemits, and it is for the same day with Mrs. Pullens, only it is to tea, not to dinner— To be sure it will be a great pity to leave Mrs. Pullens so soon ; but then it would be a great pity not to go to Mrs. Blue

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