See the
Tuillerie, And waddle through the Louvre." None of these, I believe,
however good and valid reasons in themselves, were the moving powers
upon the present occasion; the all-sufficient one being that Mrs.
Bingham had a daughter. Now Miss Bingham was Dublin too --but Dublin of
a later edition--and a finer, more hot-pressed copy than her mamma. She
had been educated at Mrs. Somebody's seminary in Mountjoy-square--had
been taught to dance by Montague--and had learned French from a Swiss
governess--with a number of similar advantages --a very pretty
figure--dark eyes--long
eye-lashes and a dimple--and last, but of course least, the deserved
reputation of a large fortune. She had made a most successful debut in
the Dublin world, where she was much admired and flattered, and which
soon suggested to her quick mind, as it has often done
in similar cases to a young provincial debutante, not to waste her
"fraicheur" upon the minor theatres,
but at once to appear upon the "great boards;" so far evidencing a
higher flight of imagination and enterprise than is usually found among
the clique of her early associates, who may be characterized as that
school of young ladies,
who like the "Corsair" and Dunleary, and say, "ah
don't!" She possessed much more common sense than her mamma,
and promised under proper
advantages to become speedily quite sufficiently acquainted with the
world and its habitudes. In the meanwhile, I perceived that she ran a
very considerable risque of being carried off by some mustachoed
Pole,
with a name like a sneeze, who
might pretend to enjoy
the entree into the fashionable circles of the continent. Very little
study of my two fair friends enabled me to see thus much; and
very little "usage" sufficed to render me speedily
intimate with