was a constant broil kept up. These are daily occurrences in high life.
I will now tell you how a lady got into a scrape trying to get out of one, I will name her Tulip. I worked for her three or four years ago, but having very many older patrons, I gave her to one of my pupils; the latter gave entire satisfaction arid Tulip seemed perfectly satisfied with her, which in no way surprised me, for, although my pupil, I considered her equal to or better than myself. Tulip was always smiling and had something sweet to say.
A few months passed, the summer season came and I prepared myself for Saratoga. I left also my Camelia in charge of my pupils—I call her Camelia on account of her beauty, gentleness and amiability. My pupil went one day to comb Tulip and proposed to her to get a twist for her hair, as she thought it would be a great improvement. Tulip said no fashionable people wore them: the hair-dresser curtesied and begged to be excused for saying that Miss Camelia had one, though she had no need of it, but that it certainly would be an improvement to her. Tulip was perfectly delighted to have something to say of Camelia; the latter having many beaux, she thought to acquaint one of these admirers in a quiet way, that Camelia wore a twist, when she did not—she had one, but made no use of it, as Camelia never wore anything or said anything that she feared any person to know.
Tulip went to an aunt of one of Camelia's admirers and told her, thinking she, like other ladies, might tell the gentleman; but this aunt being a lady, in the true sense of the word, neither receiving gossip or talking herself, she replied to this, "well, my dear,
