Co-written with Charlotte Hosmer. Two book peddlers compose their notes.
I went to the home of a young lady who was once a schoolmate of mine, and was ushered into the parlor, where I found mother and daughter. The mother languidly requested me to be seated; the daughter raised her half-closed and dreamy eyes, and gave me a look of recognition without moving from the velvet sofa on which she was reclining. I addressed the mother, making known the object of my call. She weariedly turned over my books, and passed some of them to her daughter, saying:
Daughter, dear, would you like to subscribe for any?
The daughter, half-rising, and selecting a popular work, subscribed for it, ordering a copy richly gilt and bound, when the mother added:
Daughter, have you consulted your purse, with regard to your jewelry, and perhaps a party dress for the coming month?
Ah, me! Am I dreaming, or is this the mortal greatness that we are all striving for!