“Turning the well-worn leaves, where thumb-marks, thick on the margin,
Like the trample of feet, proclaimed where the battle was hottest.”
“As well be out of the world as out of the fashion,” said our amusing friend Captain Pinkney; and, accordingly, I sent this morning for little Miss Campanelle, to hold counsel with her about a new bonnet. Mrs. Pevensey took me by surprise, and therefore made allowances; but she will not take me by surprise next time, and therefore I must not expect her to make allowances again. We owe it to our richer friends not to neglect appearances consistent with our means; on the other hand, the rich do us more harm than they perhaps are aware of, when they avow a contempt for such moderate efforts to keep pace with the times as we ought not to exceed.
My bonnet was decidedly behind the times.
“Dear me, ma’am,” said Miss Campanelle, primming up her little rosebud mouth, which showed a strong inclination to expand into a laugh, “there is enough in this bonnet for two. Only, the shape is so completely out of date, that it won’t bear altering: otherwise the materials are quite fresh.”
“They may well be,” said I, “for they were nearly new when I put them away two years ago. However, I mean to have a new bonnet; and I dare say I shall find some one who will be glad to have this.”
“Dear me, yes, ma’am; it will be quite a nice present,” said Miss Campanelle, hastily. “There are many people who would be glad to modernize it for themselves.”
Then, thought I to myself, why could not you modernize it for me? Perhaps she read my thought in my face, for she added—