IF, generous reader, you had lived in Charleston, we would take it for granted that you need no further enlightening on any of our very select societies, especially the St. Cecilia; but you may not have enjoyed a residence so distinguished², rendering³ unnecessary a few explanatory remarks. You must know that we not only esteem⁴ ourselves the quintessence of refinement⁵, as we have an undisputed right to do, but regard the world outside as exceedingly stupid in not knowing as much of us as we profess⁶ to know of ourselves. Abroad, we wonder we are not at once recognized as Carolinians; at home, we let the vulgar world know who we are. Indeed, we regard the outside world-of these States we mean-very much in that light which the Greeks of old were wont⁷ to view the Romans in. Did we but stop here, the weakness might be pardonable. But we lay claim to Grecian refinement of manners, while pluming⁸ all our mob-politicians Roman orators⁹. There is a profanity about this we confess not to like; not that danger can befall it, but because it hath about it that which reminds us of the oyster¹⁰ found in the shell of gold. Condescending¹¹, then, to believe there exists outside of our State a few persons silly enough to read books, we will take it for granted, reader, that you are one of them, straightway

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