Mrs. Cotton, instead of sending for the accoucheur, with extreme propriety, though somewhat _mal-apropos_, loaded poor Julia with abuse! "Have yet a little mercy," said Julia, "and send for assistance." "Never, never, you monster! you wretch! will I so disgrace your family," exclaimed Mrs. Cotton. Poor Julia's sufferings were short, but dreadfully severe. In about five hours, unassisted, she became the mother of a fine boy. Julia could not attempt to describe the rage and fury either of her mother or brother. It was harsh, it was shocking, even as applied to the most hardened sinner, in such a state of mental and bodily suffering. Julia was, with her infant, by her noble relatives hurried into the country, almost at the risk of her life, and Colonel Cotton was called out by young Storer, Julia's brother, and, I believe, wounded. From her retirement, Julia had contrived to write to Colonel Cotton, by means of Colonel Thomas, to declare to him that, if they were to meet no more, she would immediately destroy herself. In short, Cotton was raving mad for Julia, and Julia was wild for Cotton--_le moyen de les séparer?_ A very retired cottage near town was hired by Cotton for Julia, who inherited a small fortune over which her parents had no control; and on that she had supported herself in the closest retirement for more than eight years, when I accidentally became acquainted with her. Cotton was dismissed from his regiment by his royal commander. I never saw such romantic people, after nine years and five children! "Julia! adored Julia!" so he would write to her, "if you love but as I do, we shall, to-morrow at eight in the evening, enjoy another hour of perfect bliss! Julia! angel Julia! my certain death would be the consequence of your inconstancy, &c. &c." Julia used to show me these rhapsodies from Cotton, at which I always laughed heartily, and thus I used to put her in a passion continually. At the opera I learned to be a complete flirt; for there I saw Argyle incessantly with Lady W----, and there it became incumbent on me either to laugh or cry. I let him see me flirt and look tender on Lord Burghersh one night on purpose, and the next day, when we three graces met him in the park, I placed in his hand a letter, which he was hastily concealing in his pocket with a look of gratified vanity, believing no doubt that it was one of my soft effusions on the beauty of his eyes. "For the post," said I, nodding as we were turning to leave him, and we all three burst into a loud laugh together. The letter was addressed to Lord Burghersh, merely to tell him to join us at Amy's after the next opera. The next opera was unusually brilliant. Amy's box was close to ours, and almost as soon as we were seated she entered, dressed in the foreign style, which became her, accompanied by Counts Woronzow, Beckendorff and Orloff. Beckendorf was half mad for her and wanted to marry her with his left hand. "Why not with the right?" said Amy.