Her extraordinary frankness often beguiled superficial observers into supposing themselves fully acquainted with her long before they were so, as the beautiful transparency of some lakes is said to deceive the eye as to their depth; yet the longer you knew her, the more variety and compass of character appeared through the same transparent medium. But you may just visit Miss Alice for half an hour to-night, and judge for yourselves. You may walk into this little parlor. There sits Miss Alice on that sofa, sewing a pair of lace sleeves into a satin dress, in which peculiarly angelic employment she may persevere till we have finished another sketch. Do you see that pretty little lady, with sparkling eyes, elastic form, and beautiful hand and foot, sitting opposite to her? She is a belle: the character is written in her face--it sparkles from her eye--it dimples in her smile, and pervades the whole woman. But there--Alice has risen, and is gone to the mirror, and is arranging the finest auburn hair in the world in the most tasteful manner. The little lady watches every motion as comically as a kitten watches a pin-ball. "It is all in vain to deny it, Alice--you are really anxious to _look pretty_ this evening," said she. "I certainly am," said Alice, quietly. "Ay, and you hope you shall please Mr. A. and Mr. B.," said the little accusing angel. "Certainly I do," said Alice, as she twisted her fingers in a beautiful curl. "Well, I would not tell of it, Alice, if I did." "Then you should not ask me," said Alice. "I _declare_! Alice!" "And what do you declare?" "I never saw such a girl as you are!" "Very likely," said Alice, stooping to pick up a pin. "Well, for _my_ part," said the little lady, "I never would take any pains to make any body like me--_particularly_ a gentleman." "I would," said Alice, "if they would not like me without." "Why, Alice! I should not think you were so fond of admiration." "I like to be admired very much," said Alice, returning to the sofa, "and I suppose every body else does." "_I_ don't care about admiration," said the little lady. "I would be as well satisfied that people shouldn't like me as that they should." "Then, cousin, I think it's a pity we all like you so well," said Alice, with a good-humored smile. If Miss Alice had penetration, she never made a severe use of it. "But really, cousin," said the little lady, "I should not think such a girl as you would think any thing about dress, or admiration, and all that." "I don't know what sort of a girl you think I am," said Alice, "but, for my own part, _I_ only pretend to be a common human being, and am not ashamed of common human feelings. If God has made us so that we love admiration, why should we not honestly say so. _I_ love it--_you_ love it--every body loves it; and why should not every body say it?"