on the one condition that they must not be worn to the house of the Hon.
Junius Barlowe, where it was his custom to go on the third Sunday of every
month, and never to the Addison house, which he visited on the second
Thursday of each month.

The inkstand from Italy was large in promise, but poor in fulfillment--the
place for ink was infinitesimally small. George tried to use it once when
he had three important thoughts to transmit. He wrote out two of them, but
the third thought had to go dry. There was a much decayed gentleman of the
old school who lived across the street from the Addisons. It had been the
custom of George Addison's grandfather, and father also, to always send
this individual some useful gift on Christmas Day; therefore the inkstand
from Italy was sent over the next morning. It failed to give what might be
termed complete satisfaction, but the old neighbor had not been satisfied
for a small matter of fifty years. Therefore George held himself, and he
was perfectly right, blameless.

It was easy enough to slip the picture of a pretty Dancer, who, in that
long ago day, was all the rage among the young men about town--into the
silver frame, heart-shape, but what could he do with her picture? It was
much prior to the time of the cigarette craze and cigarette pictures--so
he could not send it to one of those at that time uncreated
establishments, to be copied and sent broadcast. He was something of an
artist. He cleverly tinted the thing another color--made her eyes blue
instead of brown, and changed her golden sunlit wealth of hair into a
darker, if not richer shade. It was a full-length picture. Her trim figure
was shown to advantage. Her slender white hands were clasped above her
bosom, and there was a look of heavenly resignation on her serenely
beautiful brow. He cruelly sent it to the editor of "Godey's Ladies'
Magazine," and it was blazoned forth as a fashion plate, much enlarged and