A summons to dinner now assembled together below all the front cabin passengers, and there was collected together such a groupe as none of the young ladies had ever before seen, but which is to be met with at any stage-coach dinner. Mrs. Sullivan and her new friend laboured to outvie each other in airs of consequence, whilst some would-be beaux put their gallantry on active service, to be overpoweringly civil to the ladies in general, and to Cecilia Webberly and Miss Wildenheim in particular. One little smirking man was peculiarly sweet upon Adelaide, watching each word she spoke, and helping her to every thing she even looked near. When she first applied to Colonel Desmond, who sat next her, for the salt cellar, her inamorato seized the only one within reach, and presenting it to her, said with a facetious grin, as he leaned across Desmond with his chin projecting six inches out of his well-tied cravat, "Excuse me for not helping you to it, Miss; it's the only service you could require I would not with all the pleasure in life perform, but should be loath for us to quarrel; they say salt is very unlucky in parting friends." At the moment in which she bowed her thanks to this dapper wight, a very tall man stood up to help himself to something at the extreme end of the table from that where he was placed: somehow his foot slipped, he reeled a few paces back, and, in his retreat, effectually stopped Mrs. Sullivan's mouth with his elbow, who had just opened it to its utmost extension, in the endeavour to raise her dignity to a par with that of her companion, who the instant before asserted "She had every thing in the highest style at her house, and hoped to have the pleasure of seeing her there soon;" her auditor, in emulation, was just proceeding to vaunt the glories of Webberly House, when the thread of her discourse was broken off in the unexpected manner just mentioned.