perused it in silence; but her uncle told Mrs Smith, in strict confidence, that he felt almost sure a tear fell on the paper.  Be that as it might, shortly afterwards, when Mr Elliston signified his intention of inviting Major George, Major George’s young bride, and the young bride’s elder sister, to pay him a visit, Miss Constantia expressed a desire to return home.  Her uncle acquiesced with rather too much alacrity for conventional politesse, exclaiming as he did so:  ’I only hope, Niece Con, that George’s wife won’t be a “Dear me!” or a “Well, I never!” but a hearty, comfortable, chattering woman, with a will and a way of her own!’

Nor were Mr Elliston’s hopes in this instance doomed to disappointment; for Mrs Major George had not only an actual tongue, but a way and a will of her own so decided, that ere the expiration of their visit, she succeeded in bringing about a union between the nabob and her elder sister.  Some folks affirmed, that Mr Elliston came speedily to endure the flat contradictions of his wife with the humility of a broken spirit, and to speak with tender regret of his meek and inoffensive nieces.  They, quiet souls, heard of their uncle the nabob’s marriage without surprise, and without expressing emotion of any kind, beyond the ‘Really!’ ‘Indeed!’ and ‘Impossible!’ appertaining to each, as her distinguishing characteristic or mark of identity.  When we first met the Misses Bonderlay, with their trinal baskets and squares of worsted-work, they were preparing a beautiful hearth-rug as a present for their uncle’s wife, to be formed of these identical squares, with numerous others of a similar construction, and surrounded by a corresponding handsome border.  Since that period, we have been favoured with exquisite specimens of their united industry; for the greatest pleasure of their lives consists in bestowing such-like gifts of handiwork on their friends and acquaintance.

But we have derived another benefit from our intercourse with the sisters.  Whenever we find ourselves at a loss for an inoffensive reply, or are unwilling to pursue a discussion, we find a safe refuge in copying their harmless peculiarity; for, after all, the meaning of words depends very much on intonation:  and we have not unfrequently had confirmed, by our own experience, the theory we have ventured to promulgate—­that there is much virtue in such interjections as Really!  Indeed! and Impossible!

THE GREAT AFGHAN BLUNDER.

Every war is a blunder; every battle a blot of shame upon human nature; and the greatest wisdom a successful belligerent can shew, even when he has been forced into the fray by his beaten antagonist, is to get out of it as fast as he can.  But some wars are viewed, not as they ought to be, as indications of the slow progress of the human race from barbarism, but through the medium of the lofty and chivalrous feelings of the resisting party, or the party which