 as you have yourself, you must belong to
the Bulbul faction.«
    I like to dwell upon this period of her life, and to think that she was
cheerful and happy. You see she has not had too much of that sort of existence
as yet, and has not fallen in the way of means to educate her tastes or her
intelligence. She has been domineered over hitherto by vulgar intellects. It is
the lot of many a woman. And as every one of the dear sex is the rival of the
rest of her kind, timidity passes for folly in their charitable judgments, and
gentleness for dullness, and silence - which is but timid denial of the
unwelcome assertion of ruling folks, and tacit protestantism - above all, finds
no mercy at the hands of the female Inquisition. Thus, my dear and civilized
reader, if you and I were to find ourselves this evening in a society of
greengrocers, let us say, it is probable that our conversation would not be
brilliant; if, on the other hand, a greengrocer should find himself at your
refined and polite tea-table, where everybody was saying witty things, and
everybody of fashion and repute tearing her friends to pieces in the most
delightful manner, it is possible that the stranger would not be very talkative,
and by no means interesting or interested.
    And it must be remembered that this poor lady had never met a gentleman in
her life until this present moment. Perhaps these are rarer personages than some
of us think. For which of us can point out many such in his circle - men whose
aims are generous, whose truth is constant, and not only constant in its kind
but elevated in its degree; whose want of meanness makes them simple; who can
look the world honestly in the face with an equal manly sympathy for the great
and the small? We all know a hundred whose coats are very well made, and a score
who have excellent manners, and one or two happy beings who are what they call
in the inner circles, and have shot into the very centre and bull's-eye of the
fashion; but of gentlemen how many? Let us take a little scrap of paper and each
make out his list.
    My friend the Major I write, without any doubt, in mine. He had very long
legs, a yellow face, and a slight lisp, which at first was rather ridiculous.
But his thoughts were just, his brains were fairly good, his life was honest and
pure, and his heart warm and humble. He certainly had very large hands and feet
