I thought of what our good bishop once said: 'It was very pretty to see the young lambs gambolling about; but when the old sheep began to caper too, he'd rather not look on.' There was poor old Mr.K., with his red face and his white hair, and his heels flying in every direction.

(I am ashamed of you for laughing at Mr.K., Mrs.Weston, when I am trying to impress upon Alice's mind the folly of such a scene.) I dare say Mr.K.'s wife was at that very moment, five hundred miles off, darning her children's stockings.
"All the people did not dance the Polka," continued Ellen; "and I was dazzled with the pretty faces, and the wise-looking heads.

Mr.Webster was there, with his deep voice, and solemn brow, and cavernous eyes; and close up to him, where she could not move or breathe, there was a young face, beautiful and innocent as a cherub's, looking with unfeigned astonishment upon the scene.

There was Gen.

Scott, towering above everybody; and Mr.
Douglass, edging his way, looking kindly and pleasantly at every one.