Mr. Aberton, one of the attaches.

"Dear me!" said Miss Paulding, "what a pretty chain that is of your's,
Mr. Aberton."

"Yes," said the attache, "I know it must be pretty, for I got it at
Brequet's, with the watch." (How common people always buy their opinions
with their goods, and regulate the height of the former by the mere price
or fashion of the latter.)

"Pray, Mr. Pelham," said Miss Paulding, turning to me, "have you got one
of Brequet's watches yet?"

"Watch!" said I: "do you think I could ever wear a watch? I know nothing
so plebeian. What can any one, but a man of business, who has nine hours
for his counting-house and one for his dinner, ever possibly want to know
the time for? An assignation, you will say: true, but (here I played with
my best ringlet) if a man is worth having, he is surely worth waiting
for!"

Miss Paulding opened her eyes, and Mr. Aberton his mouth. A pretty lively
French woman opposite (Madame D'Anville) laughed, and immediately joined
in our conversation, which, on my part, was, during the whole dinner,
kept up exactly in the same strain.

"What do you think of our streets?" said the old, yet still animated
Madame de G--s. "You will not find them, I fear, so agreeable for walking
as the trottoirs in London."

"Really," I answered, "I have only been once out in your streets, at