our dinners, I shall be quite willing to have him, for he is a dzear
ole loveykins, wasn't ums?" (This, O my immaculate and dignified sire,
which I transcribe with faithful undeviation, appears to be the
dialect of a remote province, spoken only by maidens--both young and
of autumnal solitude--under occasional mental stress; as of a native
of Shan-si relapsing without consciousness into his uncouth tongue
after passing a lifetime in the Capital.) "Don't you think so too,
Mr. Kong?"

"When the sun shines the shadow falls, for truly it is said, 'To the
faithful one even the voice of the corncrake at evening speaks of his
absent love,'" replied this person, so engagingly disconcerted at
being thus openly addressed by the maiden that he retained no delicate
impression of what she said, or even of what he was replying, beyond
an unassuming hope that the nature of his feelings might perchance be
inoffensively revealed to her in the semblance of a discreet allegory.

"Perhaps," interposed a person of neglected refinement, turning
towards the maiden, "you would like to have a corncrake also, to remind
you of Mr. Kong?"

"I do not know what a corncrake is like," replied the maiden with
commendable dignity. "I do not think so, however, for I once had a
pair of canaries, and I found them very unsatisfying, insipid
creatures. But I should love to have a little dog I am sure, only Miss
Blank won't hear of it."

"Kong Ho," thought this person inwardly, "not in vain have you burnt
joss sticks unceasingly, for the enchanting one has said into your
eyes that she would love to partake of a little dog. Assuredly we have