And how they'd vainly doubted, how they'd parted,
And now were sundered so eternally—
O God! forgive these stubborn-hearted! M. A. R.
Mr. Brown says Mrs. Green—Miss White that was—doesn't live happily with her husband. The poison works and comes to Mrs. Green's ears. But stop, dear madam, before you have exhausted your week's supply of fresh pocket-handkerchiefs by tears—didn't you refuse Mr. Brown's brother? There's the antidote.
Mrs. Knight tells all her acquaintances that Mrs. Day is abominably extravagant, and caused her husband's failure. Mrs. Starr is sorry to hear it, but recollects in time that Mrs. Day once declined making Mrs. Knight's acquaintance, because there were already more names on her visiting list than she could do justice to. Mrs. Knight feels injured, and sets it down to her living in a two story house in a cross street. Hence her remarks.
And if our lady readers, young and old, would but notice it, a similar antidote might be found for almost all the troublesome reports that come to their ears. It is not in human nature to give a kiss for a blow; and fancied or real injuries are often visited upon one's character or standing. The next best thing to being "let alone," is not to mind what is said, so one is conscious of the right, and never willingly to listen to what people say of you. If disagreeable, you will be sorry you heard it; if the reverse, the best of us are sensibly inclined to vanity.