Here Lucy raised her face from the apron and burst into a laugh, the
tears filling her eyes all the while.

"Believe them, dear Grace," she said. "They are precisely two
self-satisfied, silly fellows, that have got some ridiculous notions
in their heads, and then begin to talk about 'superficial views of
duties,' and all such nonsense. My father will set it all right, and
the boys will have had their talk."

"Not so last, Miss Lucy, if you please. Your father will not know a
syllable of the matter until you tell him all about it, after we are
gone. We intend 'to relieve him from all responsibility in the
premises.'"

This last sounded very profound, and a little magnificent, to my
imagination; and I looked at the girls to note the effect. Grace was
weeping, and weeping only; but Lucy looked saucy and mocking, even
while the tears bedewed her smiling face, as rain sometimes falls
while the sun is shining.

"Yes," I repeated, with emphasis, "'of all responsibility in the
premises.' I hope that is plain English, and good English, although I
know that Mr. Hardinge has been trying to make you both so simple in
your language, that you turn up your noses at a profound sentiment,
whenever you hear one."

In 1797, the grandiose had by no means made the deep invasion into the
everyday language of the country, that it has since done. Anything of
the sublime, or of the recondite, school was a good deal more apt to
provoke a smile, than it is to-day--the improvement proceeding, as I