It is of course impossible within the limits of a short essay to indicate more than a few of the leading characteristics of this girl. She it is who not only wants to monopolise the conversation, but who wants to confine it to one subject. She should remember the quaint counsel, "The honourablest part of talk is to give the occasion, and again to moderate, and pass to something else." Moreover in conversation she too often follows the rule laid down by a French author for those about to write love-letters: "Begin without knowing what you are going to say, and end without knowing what you have said." If at the end of a conversation she sometimes knew what she had said, the vulgar girl, who is not necessarily a callous girl, would feel very unhappy. Her tendency to talk indiscreetly has doubtless its origin in the precipitancy which causes her to break in upon the speech of others. There is a lesson which she might learn from a certain polite echo. This echo may be heard opposite to Mugdock Castle in Scotland. It will repeat any sentence of six syllables in the exact tone in which it is uttered--waiting till the sentence is finished. Another result of the lack of deliberation which characterises the vulgar girl is seen in the fact that the latest book, the latest play, the latest picture, is to her Thingimy by Thingimbob. That nomenclature is somewhat vague, and is moreover out of date, but it still commends itself to the vulgar girl, as does the soubriquet _The Bard_ for Shakespeare. Her singular phraseology, which she conceives to set her at an advantage, in reality sometimes sets the vulgar girl at a disadvantage. Of Tennyson she said the other day-- "I don't pretend to understand him any more than Browning, but then he tootles on prettily, and that's what I like in poetry." [Illustration] A main difference between Browning and Tennyson was here correctly set forth, but the phrasing was in questionable taste. "Tootles" is a good word, but to say that Tennyson "tootles on prettily," is to understate his merits. It shall here be pointed out in passing that "I don't pretend" is a favourite form of asseveration with the vulgar girl, and is one which she should try to vary, if only because it inferentially asserts that other people do pretend. The vulgar girl is "by way of being" (her own phrase) witty. One part of her wit is to say "muchly" for much, and another part of it is to say "free gratis" for free of charge. Flippancy as a substitute for wit so often evokes mirth that the vulgar girl as would-be wit not incomprehensibly largely indulges in it. I sat beside her once during a performance of Beethoven's Septett, one of the loveliest things in music, with here and there a heart-delighting gaiety in it. During the fifth movement of it she whispered to me-- "Isn't it like 'The Bogie Man'?" [Illustration] The levity in what follows was even more remarkable. The speaker was a young bride.