“I think the crowded drawing room should be abandoned to those who are capable of no higher enjoyment than gossip, nonsense, flirtation, and eating oysters, confections and creams; and that people of talent, education, principle, and refinement, should associate freely in small circles, and with little ceremony. In such kind of intercourse, new friendships would be formed and old ones cemented, the mind and heart would be improved, and the demons of envy and detraction excluded. After an evening spent in such a circle, the monitor within would be at peace, and the blessing and protection of Heaven could be sought, without a feeling of shame, and self-condemnation.” “Then your _conscience_ is really at war with large parties?” said Mr. Westbury. “I cannot deny that it is,” Julia answered. “Impelled by circumstances, I have striven to think they might _sometimes_ be innocently attended, and perhaps they may; but I confess that the reproaches of my own conscience are more and more severe, every time I repeat the indulgence. Whatever they be to others, I am constrained to believe they are not innocent for me.” Mr. Westbury made no reply, for at that moment the carriage stopped at their own door, and the subject was not again resumed. * * * * * Every party was sure to procure for Mrs. Westbury the favor of a call from Mrs. Cunningham. On the following morning, at as early an hour as etiquette would allow, she made her appearance. “I could not stay away this morning,” she said, the moment she entered. “I am so vexed, and so hurt, that I must have the sympathy of some friendly heart; and you are a friend to every one, especially when in trouble.” “What troubles you, Mrs. Cunningham?” Mrs. Westbury inquired.