"
And this:--
The vice I detest and abhor above all
Is not dancing four _times_ with _you_ at a ball.
And this, in answer to the question, "What or who would you rather be,
if you were not yourself?"--
I'd rather be the rosebud that nestles in your hair,
Or the aunt whose hand you took in yours and pressed upon the stair.
They all admired this slip-slop immensely, and MARY asked me, when
I called the other day, if I didn't think it wonderfully clever. I
know, when I wrote my answers in her album, it took me days of thought
to get them done in prose, and even then they turned out the most
ordinary, commonplace things. However I thought they pleased MARY,
and now POMFRET steps in with his confounded rhymes. Mrs. BELLAMY's
father once published a volume of verse, and is still talked of in the
household as "your grandfather the poet." She told me that she thought
"a faculty for versification was the mark of a truly refined and
delicate mind." Bah! POMFRET's one of the most selfish and calculating
ruffians outside a convict prison, and always haggles over his
luncheon bills at the Club, till the head-waiter and all the rest
nearly go off their heads.
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