“Certainly not,” said Julia. “How much more highly such conversation would be enjoyed—how much greater benefit derived from it, in a small circle. Artificial delicacy and refinement—artificial feeling—artificial good-nature—artificial friendship, are the usual compound that make up large companies. Had Mr. and Mrs. Eveleth spent this evening with us, in our quiet parlor, how much greater would have been the enjoyment! how much more profitably the time might have been occupied!”
“It might,” said Mr. Westbury. “Mr. Eveleth has great colloquial powers. His conversation is at once brilliant and instructive. I know no gentleman who equals him in this particular.”
“I cannot say quite as much as that,” said Julia, “though he certainly converses uncommonly well.”
“Who can you name that is his equal?” asked Mr. Westbury.
Julia hesitated a little, and blushed a great deal, though her blushes were unseen, as she said—“In conversational powers, I think my present companion is very rarely, if ever excelled. And why,” she added, “such gentlemen should mingle in crowds, where their talents are in a great measure lost, instead of meeting in select circles, where they could find congenial minds—minds, at least, in some degree capable of appreciating them, I cannot conceive. But I suppose my ideas of rational enjoyment, of elegant society are very singular.” She stopped short, fearing she was saying too much, but Mr. Westbury requested her to proceed. After a minute's hesitation she said—
“I think the crowded drawing room should be abandoned to those who are capable of no higher enjoyment than gossip, nonsense, flirtation, and eating oysters, confections and creams; and that people of talent, education, principle, and refinement, should associate freely in small circles, and with little ceremony. In such kind of intercourse, new friendships would be formed and old ones cemented, the mind and heart would be improved, and the demons of envy and detraction excluded. After an evening spent in such a circle, the monitor within would be at peace, and the blessing and protection of Heaven could be sought, without a feeling of shame, and self-condemnation.”
“Then your conscience is really at war with large parties?” said Mr. Westbury.
“I cannot deny that it is,” Julia answered. “Impelled by circumstances, I have striven to think they might sometimes be innocently attended, and perhaps they may; but I confess that the reproaches of my own conscience are more and more severe, every time I repeat the indulgence. Whatever they be to others, I am constrained to believe they are not innocent for me.”
Mr. Westbury made no reply, for at that moment the carriage stopped at their own door, and the subject was not again resumed.