THE FARO BANKERESS ADMIRING THE VILLAGE.
“What a delightful village this is, and how quaint! Do look at it!” This from the actual lady.
There was the same quick sweep of the head by the lady of laces, with the regular remark: “Yes; it’s altogether too sweet for anything,” and she resumed:—
TRAVEL AND DRY GOODS.
“Now when we get to Paris I do so want you to go with me. I can show you where you can get laces and everything for half you pay in New York. And hosiery! Well now. I always buy five dozen pairs of silk stockings in Paris. And gloves! You can get kid gloves in Paris for almost nothing, and all you have to do not to pay duties is to put them on once and swear they have been worn. I always spend my last day in Paris putting on and off gloves. And children’s clothes! Let me see; you have a little boy, and so have I. Is yours in pants yet, or is he in kilts? Mine is in pants, but I hated to take him out of kilts; he was altogether too sweet for anything in them. With a broad white collar, and lace about his wrists, and little black shoes, and red stockings, with a Highland cap and feather in it, just like a Highland chieftain and—”
At this point the train stopped at a station, and our party got into another compartment. I pitied the lady who had to stay, but self-preservation is the first law of nature. I should not like to be with her on a steamboat, where escape would be impossible. Travel does her a power of good. But heavens! how many like her are strewing their gabble all over the continent!
