“Ain’t the ‘Bride of the Brier-field’ beautiful? Don’t tell me you have not read it!—dear me!—I was perfectly on thorns till I got it. Araminta is so sweet, I almost cried my eyes out when she died. Of course you’ve read the ‘Pirate of Point Peepin?’ Oh, how I do hate him! I declare I never see black whiskers on any of the gentlemen in the street that I a’n’t ready to scream, they put me so much in mind of Don Hildebrando.” Intent upon conquest as she was, the loud accents of her mother sometimes disturbed the tenor of her softer themes, and she showed her apprehension that the old lady’s discourse might not be in unison with the general tone of the company, by occasionally interpolating, “Just listen to maw!—did you ever know any one so old-fashioned;” or, “maw will always talk so, but you city people will get used to her ways after a while;” or, “maw is so independent, she always says whatever comes into her head.” I thought it time to interpose between the loquacity of Mrs. Dilberry and the politeness of her listeners, and placing myself beside her, I made inquiries in a low voice about our friend in common, Mrs. Conolly. But she was one of those people who are always best satisfied with a numerous auditory; and punching the shoulder of Mrs. Aylmere, while she pushed the knee of another lady, she re-commenced in a still higher key. “I believe I didn’t tell you ladies how I happened to be in such good company. I brought a letter of introduction to Mrs. Allanby from one of her most particular friends, and that makes me feel quite at home with her, and almost as if she was a blood relation. You’ll really have to come to Tarry-town, Mrs. Allanby, to pay a visit to Mrs. Conolly. I’m sure you’ll never repent the expense of the journey, for she is settled very comfortably, and will introduce you to nobody but the very top of the town. Like my young people, she’s mighty particular about her associates. She is changed a good deal though, for looks—more, I dare say, than you have, Mrs. Allanby; but considering the wear and tear of married life, and the way she has to expose herself, for help is scarce in our section; not more so, perhaps, than might be expected, particularly when she is fixed up—which, to be sure, might be oftener, for she began to be careless in her dress almost as soon as she was married, and, though she has four children running about—troublesome, dirty little limbs, I can’t help saying—some of the wedding finery she brought out with her is quite good yet. She is a good deal more freckled, too, than she used to be, but that is no wonder, for I’ve seen her, many a time, out in the broiling sun in the garden cutting lettuce, without any thing on her head—she never was proud—except, indeed, a black bobinet cap; they are very much worn with us, as they save washing and are economical. And she has lost her two front teeth; no, I believe it is a front and an eye-tooth, and that, you know, always makes people look older.