style, one piece after another; while he stood patiently by, leaning one hand on the back of her chair, and turning over the leaves of her book with the other. Perhaps, he was as much charmed with her performance as she was. It was all very fine in its way; but I cannot say that it moved me very deeply. There was plenty of skill and execution, but precious little feeling.
But we had not done with Mrs. Graham yet.
"I don't take wine Mrs. Markham," said Mr. Millward, upon the introduction of that beverage; "I'll take a little of your home-brewed ale. I always prefer your home-brewed to any thing else."
Flattered at this compliment, my mother rang the bell, and a china jug of our best ale was presently brought, and set before the worthy gentleman who so well knew how to appreciate its excellencies.
"Now this is the thing!" cried he, pouring
