have served me as it did Bob Acres, and "oozed out of the palms of my hands," before we arrived. My friend hurried me on, talking all the way, without giving me time to think, so that I was in the middle of his little drawing room before I could collect sufficient courage to run away. I made my bow to the lady, sat down as far as I could from all the females in the room , and felt-nobody can describe what a bashful man feels in such a situation. I fancied every laugh levelled directly at me, and because I felt strange myself, believed that every body considered me a stranger. Luckily there was no fire in the room, or I should have undergone a second roasting, for I am of opinion, if an earthquake had happened, I could not have found the use of my legs sufficiently to run out of the room, unless it had previously been deserted by the awful assemblage. The recollection of this horrible probation, even at this distance of time, makes me shudder. Had I an enemy in the world, which I hope I have not, all the harm I wish him would be to be cursed with that sensitive bashfulness, the offspring of pride and timidity, which, while it makes one think himself an object of universal attention, conveys an irresistible impression that he is some way or other ridiculous. How often have I envied those impudent fellows whom I saw sailing about the ladies, and laughing, chatting, or flirting, with as little apprehension as a moth flutters round a candle. I would have pawned every grain of sense I had in the world for just as much brass as would have emboldened me to pick up a lady's fan, or sweeten her tea.
I had remained in this situation just long enough to get into an agony of perspiration, when my good friend came over to me, with a request to introduce me to a lady, who sat on the opposite side of the room. I made fifty excuses, but all would not do; he had told her of his intention, and it would look rude for me to decline. Despair, for I verily believe it was nothing else, gave me sufficient strength to rise from my chair; my friend led me up to the lady, introduced me, pointed to a chair next her, and left me to my fate. My hands shook, my forehead became wet with cold dew, my tongue clove to the roof of my mouth, and a roaring in my ears announced that commotion of the nervous system which always foretells the approach of a nightmare. I attempted to speak, with as little success as I had often had in trying to call for help in my sleep, when under the dominion of that foul fiend. Our eyes at length happened to meet, and there was something in a little
mischievous smile that sparkled in her eye, and played in the