Mr. Effingham winced; he had more than once expressed a similar opinion of Virginia in good faith, not ironically, and the good old gentleman’s words seemed directed to himself. A moment’s reflection, however, persuaded him that this could not be the case; He had not visited Riverhead a dozen times since his arrival from Oxford and London, and on these occasions he never touched upon the subject of Virginia and its dreadful deficiencies. “A play,” he said; “that is really good news; but the ‘Merchant of Venice,’ that is not one of my acquaintances.” “Ah! you young men are wrong in giving up Will. Shakespeare for the Steeles, Addisons, and Vanbrughs. Mr. Addison’s essays are very pleasant and entertaining reading, and surely there never was a finer gentleman than Sir Roger; but in the drama Will. Shakespeare distances him all to nothing.” “Let us go to the play,” said Henrietta. “Oh, yes,” said Clara. The old gentleman tenderly smoothed the bright golden hair. “Certainly, if you wish it,” he said. “And may I request permission to accompany the party, ladies,” said Mr. Effingham, languidly. “How modest,” said Henrietta, laughing; “certainly you may go, sir. You will tell us when to hiss or applaud, you know, as you are just from London.” “What a quick tongue she has,” said Mr. Lee, fondly; well, we will all go, and see what the Virginia company of comedians is like; not much I fear.” At the appointed day the young man appears at Mr. Lee’s mansion and the young ladies come down to meet him, the elder, Henrietta, being described as “radiant in a dress of surpassing elegance--flowered satin, yellow lace, jewels, powdered hair, with pendants and rich furbelows,--the bright beauty of her laughing face assorting well with her flashing and glittering costume,” while the costume of the younger sister was more subdued, as her manner was more quiet. A lively conversation follows, the subject of which ends with an inquiry on the part of the young man to the elder sister. “Do you anticipate much pleasure?” referring to the play, to which the other replies: “Oh, it will be delightful.” Then to the younger, “And you, Cousin Clara, do you think that these Virginia Comedians, as they call themselves, will afford you a very pleasant entertainment?” “Oh, yes--I am sure I shall be pleased--you know I have never seen a play.” “But read a plenty?” “Oh, yes; and I like the ‘Merchant of Venice.’ The character of Portia is so delicate and noble.” “Quite true; an excellent criticism; better than anything in Congreve I think, though I should hesitate to advance such an opinion in London.” “Who will act Portia?” “I don’t know, but can tell you without much difficulty. Here is a play-bill that I sent to town for yesterday.” And Mr. Effingham drew daintily from his coat pocket a small, roughly printed hand-bill, which he spread out before the eyes of Clara.