It is the interval, let us say, between the removal of the fish and the appearance of the meat. The most brilliant man in the company has been talking with great sprightliness and effect; has paused for a moment to collect his ideas before telling one of the good stories for which he is famous; and is just ready to begin--when Miss Rose stops him and silences all her neighbours by anxiously addressing her sister, who sits opposite to her at the table. "Violet, dear." "Yes, dear." (Profound silence follows. The next course fails to make its appearance. Nobody wanting to take any wine. The brilliant guest sits back in his chair, dogged and speechless. The host and hostess look at each other nervously. Miss Rose goes on with the happy artlessness of a child, as if nobody but her sister was present.) "Do you know I have made up my mind what I shall give mamma's Susan when she is married?" "Not a silk dress? That's my present." "What do you think, dear, of a locket with our hair in it?" "Sweet." (The silence of the tomb falls on the dinner-table. The host and hostess begin to get angry. The guests look at each other. The second course persists in not coming in. The brilliant guest suffers from a dry cough. Miss Violet, in her turn, addresses Miss Rose across the table.) "Rose, I met Ellen Davis to-day." "Has she heard from Clara?" "Yes; Clara's uncle and aunt won't let her come." "Tiresome people! Did you go on to Brompton? Did you see Jane? Is Jane to be depended on?" "If Jane's cold gets better, she and that odious cousin of hers are sure to come. Uncle Frank, of course, makes his usual excuse." So the simple-hearted sisters prattle on in public; so do they carry their own innocent affections and interests about with them into the society they adorn; so do they cast the extinguishing sunshine of their young hearts over the temporary flashes of worldly merriment, and the short-lived blaze of dinner eloquence. Without another word of preliminary recommendation, I confidently submit the Miss Duckseys to brisk public competition. I can promise the two fortunate youths who may woo and win them, plenty of difficulties in weaning their affections from the family hearth, with showers of tears and poignant bursts of anguish on the wedding day. All properly-constituted bridegrooms feel, as I have been given to understand, inexpressibly comforted and encouraged by a display of violent grief on the part of the bride when she is starting on her wedding tour. And, besides, in the particular case of the Miss Duckseys, there would always be the special resource of taking brother George into the carriage, as a sure palliative, during the first few stages of the honeymoon trip. DRAMATIC GRUB STREET.[D] EXPLORED IN TWO LETTERS. LETTER THE FIRST. FROM MR. READER TO MR. AUTHOR.