Description

"There are different degrees and many phases of the passion," replied my father. "Shakespeare is speaking of an ill-treated, pining, woebegone lover, much aggrieved by the cruelty of his mistress, -- a lover who has found it of no avail to smarten himself up, and has fallen despondently into the opposite extreme. Whereas Signor Riccabocca has nothing to complain of in the barbarity of Miss Jemima." -- "Indeed he has not!" cried Blanche, tossing her head, -- "forward creature!" -- "Yes, my dear," said my mother, trying her best to look stately, "I am decidedly of opinion that, in that respect, Pisistratus has lowered the dignity of the sex. Not intentionally," added my mother, mildly, and afraid she had said something too bitter; "but it is very hard for a man to describe us women." The captain nodded approvingly; Mr. Squills smiled; my father quietly resumed the thread of his discourse.