We, who went to Miss Bailey's school, were sad degenerates in the way of
manners and language; at least so our elders told us. When Lydia Wright
said, "Oh my, what an awful snow-storm!" dear Miss Ellen was displeased.
"Lydia," said she, "is there anything 'awe'-inspiring in this display of
the elements?"

"No, 'm," faltered poor Lydia.

"Then," said Miss Bailey, gravely, "your statement that the storm is
'awful' is a falsehood. I do not suppose, my dear, that you
intentionally told an untruth; it was an exaggeration. But an
exaggeration, though not perhaps a falsehood, is unladylike, and should
be avoided by persons of refinement." Just here the question arises:
what would Miss Ellen (now in heaven) say if she could hear Lydia's
Lydia, just home from college, remark--But no: Miss Ellen's precepts
shall protect these pages.

But in the days when Letty Morris looked out of the coach window, and
young Alfred murmured that the prospect was fair indeed, conversation
was perfectly correct. And it was still decorous even when it got beyond
the coach period and reached a point where Old Chester began to take
notice. At first it was young Old Chester which giggled. Later old Old
Chester made some comments; it was then that Alfred's mother mentioned
the matter to Alfred's father. "He is young, and, of course, foolish,"
Mrs. Price explained. And Mr. Price said that though folly was
incidental to Alfred's years, it must be checked.

"Just check it," said Mr. Price.

Then Miss Letty's mother awoke to the situation, and said, "Fy, fy,