dimpled cheek, a fair neck, a passable nose, and a very red-lipped,
pouting mouth. She is small of stature--not much taller than her
mother--but so well-formed, that her delicate little figure is quite the
perfection of symmetry. Her movements are languid rather than brisk like
her mother's, and she either has, or is desirous of having, more of the
fine lady in her manners and appearance. We discern, as she talks, more
of obstinacy than reason, and more of pride than sense, in her
conversation, and the face rather expresses self-will than intellect,
although not deficient in the latter.

We are led to suppose, from the appearance of the room in which the
mother and daughter are located, that Miss Janetta is somewhat
accomplished; more so than young ladies in her position commonly were
some thirty or forty years ago. This is a large parlour, with some
pretensions to be called a drawing-room. True, the furniture is of
old-fashioned mahogany, the sofa of hair, the curtains of chintz, and
all that appertains to the master and mistress of the house, of solid
but ancient make. But the square piano, the endless succession of
baskets, card-racks, etc., the footstools with the worsted-work dog and
cat thereon emblazoned, the album and other books, so neatly and
regularly placed round the table, and above all, three heads in very bad
water-colours that adorn the walls--all proclaim the superior education
of the daughter of the house, and her aspirations after modern
gentility.

We will just take up the thread of the conversation of the mother and
daughter at the end of it, and see what conclusions they have arrived
at. In a somewhat doggedly excited tone, Miss Janetta says,--

'Well, mother, I know that father would be very angry, and that she