to set down a thing which everybody knows so well were it not that each one of us, when his best friend’s fidelity to him is questioned, flies shamelessly in the face of reason and precedent by ignoring the record of years.  He may have given ten thousand proofs of attachment to him whom he is now accused of wronging; have showed himself in a thousand ways to be absolutely incapable of deception or dishonorable behavior of any sort.  A single equivocal circumstance, a word half-heard, a gesture misunderstood; the report to his prejudice of a tale-bearer who is his inferior in every respect,—­any one of these outbalances the plea of memory, the appeal of reason, the consciousness of the right of the arraigned to be heard.  Were not the story one of to-day and of every day, the moral turpitude it displays would arouse the hearer to generous indignation.

Taking at random one of the multitude of illustrations crowding upon my mind, let me sketch a vexatious incident of personal history.  Some years ago—­no matter how many, nor how long was my sojourn in the town which was the scene of the story—­I accepted the invitation of an acquaintance to take a seat in her carriage while on my way to call upon a woman well known to us both.  The owner of the equipage, Mrs. D——­, overtook me while I was trudging up the long street leading to the suburb in which our common acquaintance lived.  The day was bleak and windy, and I was glad to be spared the walk.  Mrs. C——­, to whom the visit was paid, came down to receive us with her hat and cloak on.  She was going down town presently, she said, and would not keep us waiting while she laid aside her wraps.  No! she would not have us shorten our call on her account; she could go half an hour later as well as now.  A good deal was said of the disagreeable weather, and the bad sidewalks in that new section of the city—­as I recollected afterward.  At the time, I was more interested in her mention that her favorite brother, an editor of note from another town and State, was visiting her.  She asked permission to bring him to call, and I consented with alacrity, thinking, as I spoke, that I would, after meeting him, arrange a little dinner-party of choice spirits in his honor.

When we were ready to go, Mrs. D——­, to my surprise and embarrassment, did not propose that our hostess should drive down-town with us, although we were going directly back, and a cold “Scotch mist” was beginning to fall.  To this day, I do not know to what to attribute what I then felt—­what I still consider—­was gross incivility.  The most charitable supposition is that it never occurred to her that it would be neighborly and humane to offer a luxurious seat in her swiftly rolling chariot to the woman who must otherwise walk a mile in the chill and wet.  She had the reputation of absent-mindedness.  Let us hope that her wits were off upon an excursion when we got into the carriage and drove away, leaving Mrs. C——­ at the gate.