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Memoirs of

with those sort of people, like H———. Now, if Mr. Forster is about thirty-five years old, he must be one of that family.[1]

"Do tell Mr. Forster what a pack of beasts those servants are. Ask him if he ever heard of women throwing themselves down to sleep in the middle of a courtyard, or on the floor of a kitchen, dragging their quilt after them from place to place: tell him that is what mine do, and that I am obliged to wait a quarter of an hour for a glass of water.

"You may talk to them a little about stars, but I dare say you will commit some horrible blunder, as you always do, and that is what makes me so afraid of your having to say anything that concerns me. Tell Mr. Forster that in people's stars lie their abilities, and that you may bring up a hundred men to be generals and another hundred to be lawyers, but out of these perhaps four or five only will turn out good for anything. When a grand Llama is to be chosen, why do they go about until they have found a particular boy with certain marks, known to the learned of that country—a child born under a certain star? It is because, when they have found such a

  1. It may be right to mention that Mr. Forster, as I believe, is not one of the family alluded to in this anecdote: but, as Lady Hester's remarks hinged on his name, I thought it best to retain it.