"My son," interrupted his mother, "kindly tell the gentlemen what should be your aim in life."
"To strive to improve my natural gifts by reading and conversation," answered Roscoe, in one swift breath.
"Very good—ver-ry good—but for the present you may listen. Now, Mr. Denney—"she turned to Solon with the latest Argus in her hand,—"perusing your sheet, my eye lights upon this sentence:—
"'Lige Brackett Sundayed in our midst. He reports a busy time of Fall ploughing over Bethel way.'
"Why 'Sundayed,' Mr. Denney?" She smiled brightly, almost archly, at Solon. "I dare say you would not employ 'Mondayed' or 'Tuesdayed' or 'Wednesdayed.' You see? The term is what we may call a vulgarism—you perceive that, do you not?—likewise 'in our midst,' which is not accurate, of course, and which would be indelicate if it were. Now I let my eye descend the column to your account of a certain social function. You say, 'The table fairly groaned with the weight of good things, and a good time was had by all present.' Surely, Mr. Denney, you are a man not without culture and refinement. Had you but taken thought, you could as well have said that 'An elegant collation was served, the menu including many choice delicacies, and the affair was widely pronounced to be most enjoyable.'"
Solon's frightened eyes besought me, but I could not help him, and again he was forced to meet the
