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who the lady is, who is causing such a sensation in yonder box?" said Lady Augusta.

Mr. Sapling replied in a very affected tone of voice :

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"The lady! Why, you know, she's not exactly what you call a lady. She's a girla young woman-a person; and, as she's in the box with that eccentric fellah, Gerald Lindor, one can easily imagine that she's not quite the thing-I mean, quite respectable, you know. In fact, I heard one fellah offer to bet with another fellah, just now, that she was his chère amie. Let me see-was it Randan? No, it was Loosefish said she was his chère amie, and Randan said they were privately married. I think Loosefish stands to win, for Lindor was looking as fierce as a tiger at the fellahs. By the way, what a singular fellah that Lindor is! He don't believe in Aristocracy, nor Religion, nor anything established-"

"My dear Lady Augusta, ain't you well?"

exclaimed the exquisite, interrupting himself suddenly.

Lady Augusta's colour came and went rapidly.

"It's-it's the heat," she murmured; "this box is stifling."

However, as Lady Augusta did not recover, when exposed to the current of air in the corridor, Lady Veneer proposed that they should go home. Soon a pair of leathern lungs announced to the immediate neighbourhood, that "the Earl of Belair's carriage stops the way." A dazzling vision of aristocratic beauty flitted through the night-air for a moment, contrasting strangely with the wretched, draggled women who sold playbills, and other unfortunates whom curiosity had drawn to the spot. A fragrant perfume hit the sense of the adjacent by-standers. There was a fleeting pressure of a white arm, and a delicately gloved hand, on the shoulder of the Honorable Mr. Sapling, and when the carriage door was shut, and the steps banged

up, and the liveried flunkey had ascended to his perch in the rear, and the wheels were in rapid motion; the patrician beauty, whose luxury and apparent happiness had sent a thrill of envy to many a bosom that evening, no longer needing the stimulus of pride to control her feelings, gave way to audible sobs.



ON the morrow, the following conversation took place between Lady Augusta and Lady Veneer, her aunt:

"My dear Augusta, this is not kind. I look upon, and treat you as a daughter; yet you will not tell me the cause of your agitation and indisposition last night at the theatre."

"Pray, dear aunt, do not urge me. Our feelings are not always under our own control. I am not very well."

"I trust, my dear niece, you do not doubt

my sympathy?"

"Not in the least, my dear aunt."

"Yet you have a grief which



you refuse to

"Because it would be of no use to weary with my troubles. There is really nothing the matter with me, beyond an attack of the nerves; but if I had a grief, you could not in any way alleviate it."

"How do you know that? The mere act of communicating the cause of our trouble to another, brings an immediate sense of relief."

"Hand me the smelling-salts, please, dear Oh, you have no idea how unhappy I



"No," thought Lady Veneer, "but I am determined I will know all about it."

Lady Augusta continued her lamentation.
"No one can help me.
miserable as I am."
with selfish persons.

No one was ever so
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Lady Veneer, whose

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