It is all
sacrifice on his part, and the least that can be done is to honor
his disinterested regard for others in distress, and treat him with
delicacy and consideration.
GOING TO THE SPRINGS; OR, VULGAR PEOPLE.
"I SUPPOSE you will all be off to Saratoga, in a week or two," said
Uncle Joseph Garland to his three nieces, as he sat chatting with
them and their mother, one hot day, about the first of July.
"We're not going to Saratoga this year," replied Emily, the eldest,
with a toss of her head.
"Indeed! And why not, Emily?"
"Everybody goes to Saratoga, now."
"Who do you mean by everybody, Emily?"
"Why, I mean merchants, shop-keepers, and tradesmen, with their
wives and daughters, all mixed up together, into a kind of
hodge-podge. It used to be a fashionable place of resort--but people
that think any thing of themselves, don't go there now."
"Bless me, child!" ejaculated old Uncle Joseph, in surprise. "This
is all new to me. But you were there last year."
"I know. And that cured us all. There was not a day in which we were
not crowded down to the table among the most vulgar kind of people.
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