Aubrey, the moon-faced, is far from reconciled to his disposition from babyhood; he is a sober, solemn gentleman, backward in talking, and with such a will of his own, as will want much watching; very different from Blanche, who is Flora over again, perhaps prettier and more fairy-like, unless this is only one's admiration for the buds of the present season.

None of them has ever been so winning as this little maid, who even attracts Dr.Hoxton himself, and obtains sugar-plums and kisses.

'Rather she than I,' says Harry, but notice is notice to the white Mayflower, and there is my anxiety--I am afraid it is not wholesome to be too engaging ever to get a rebuff.

I hope having a younger sister, and outgrowing baby charms may be salutary.

Flora soon left off thinking about her beauty, and the fit of vanity does less harm at five than fifteen.