and drawn the rest of the company by lot. His only other considerate arrangement is having Charles Theobald here to swain Lady Bolsover, and talk 'Turf' with her Lord. This is one of Berwick's 'good-natured things.' To do him justice, nobody knows better how to place chacun avec sa chacune; but it is a pity that in this case it contributes so little to the general amusement; for really Theobald's intense flirtation with Lady Bolsover, is the flattest piece of dull indecorum that ever met my virtuous eyes. They are dull, these people—keep him from quadrupeds, and Theobald is a cipher; and Lady B. has little more than the few ideas which she gets sent over with her dresses from Paris. I know it is mauvais ton to cry them down—but I cannot help it. My sincerity will ruin me some fine day.

"The Hartlands are here: he talks parliament, and she talks strong sense, and tells every body how to do every thing, and seems to say, like Madame de Sevigné's candid Frenchwoman, Il n'y a que moi qui ai toujours raison. To close the list, we have that good-looking puppy, young Leighton, an underbred youth, spoiled by premature immersion in a dandy regiment, who goes about saying the same things to every body, and labouring to reward the inconsiderate benevolence of you soft-hearted patronesses, by talking as if London lay packed in Willis's rooms, and nobody existed but on Wednesday nights. Forgive my impertinence; you know how, in my heart, I revere your oligarchy.

"You will wonder how I amuse myself in the midst of this curious specimen of a social Macedoine—quite well—and am acquiring a taste for that true epicurean apathy which one enjoys in perfection, among people whom one expects neither to interest, nor to be interested by; and I sit down among them as calmly comfortable as I can conceive a growing cabbage to be in wet weather. I hold my tongue and watch the chaos as gravely as I can, while Berwick labours to make the jarring elements of his party harmonize, and offends every one in turn by trying to talk to him in his own way. I observe this generally irritates people; nobody likes to be so well understood.

"I can hardly judge at present, but I don't think Arlington's suit will prosper, and you will laugh when I tell you why: it is not that the youth is too shy and the maiden too cold; it is not the officiousness of the Berwicks;—it is because Lord Arlington has some thirty or forty thousand a-year. He is so rich, and the Rochdales so poor, and so stiffly disinterested withal; and it is such a mortal sin to think of money in this dirty world, where we cannot live without it, that they actually discourage him, and make it a point of honour to snub him daily, to prove their superiority to mercenary considerations. What weak things your strong-minded people sometimes do! and what horrors arise from acting upon principle! I, who have none, fancy I sometimes stumble into right by just doing what I please, and letting others do the same.

"Pray be bountiful, and send me some news, true or false—only if the latter, tell me the inventors. I have had nothing of the kind save a letter from Neville, full of comfortable lies, which I have already re-told, and now dearth is staring us in the face—not five minutes consumption in the house—and we are reduced to talk about each other, Berwick excepted, who falls back upon himself, and tells one again and again the 'very good thing' he said ten years ago. Tell me something about your intimates—what are their high mightinesses, Ladies Crawford and Cheadle, now doing for the edification of the world? Has the former forgiven his Majesty of ——? or is she brouillée with any other potentate! Has the latter made peace with the Cabinet? or are Ministers still doomed to exclusion from her parties unless they will be good boys, and do as she bids them? and is she still chattering party gossip, and thinks all the while she is talking politics? Send me our dear friend's last silly thing; and if you don't know which is the last, do, pray do, go to her house and gather one.

"I know nothing of Beauchamp but that he is now in Scotland, chin-deep in heather, killing grouse against time for a bet of some hundreds, which he has persuaded some simpleton to make with him. No man knows better than Beauchamp how to get paid for amusing himself. I had never heard, and don't believe, that Beauchamp is going to take a wife. Whatever you know of this, pray tell me; and say whose wife—not Sir Robert Ridware's, I hope; that would be so illiberal, and so unnecessary! I hate monopolies; and, moreover, I have always admired, the example of the poet Thomson, who ate his peaches off the tree. Forgive this pedantry, and any other sins in my letter; or if you are to scold me, let it be in person. Addio! fair lady. Yours,—not unalterably, for that is tiresome,—but as long as it pleaseth you.

"G.D."

A pleasant anecdote follows, by Sir James Berwick, "a busy, meddling, vain, good-humoured man, whose chief ambition it was to be considered thoroughly 'a man of the world,' and 'a good member of society.'"

"I was asked to dine with a Sir Dixie Hickson, a stiff, bluff, beef-eating sort of man, who was under some obligation to me, or I to him, I don't know which. Well, I forgot name, residence all but the day—came home in a hurry, looked into the Court Guide, found a Sir Hicks Dixon, drove to his house, found a party assembled, bowed to a fat woman in a turban who sailed forward â la maitresse de maison, and simpered an apology, for Sir Hicks', or Sir Dicks', or whatever he might be, 'unavoidable absence;' I forget why, 'but did not like to put off the party, and hoped to look in in the evening.' (Mind I had never seen the femme Hickson.) Down we went to dinner; a guest had failed, so there was a place for me; did not know a soul of the party; such a set of creatures were never before assembled on God's earth! Well, I ate, drank, and talked with the savages, told them some of my best lies, and was growing immensely popular, when in drops Sir Hicks from the country. You should have seen us! we set each other like two pointers backing in a stubble, with a covey between them, while the femme Dixon kept fussing with an introduction—'Sir Hicks, Sir James,—Sir James, Sir Hicks!' At last the light broke in, and I explained, and we laughed about it for a whole hour. I was afraid when all was over I should have had to pay my debt of dinner to Sir Dixie; but the best of it is, I have not seen or heard more of either him or Sir Hicks. It would have served me right if they had asked me to dinner once a week for ever visiting such people. It is not likely that you should know them."

There is much truth in the following satire upon fashionable travelling; though persons of fashion are not the only unimproved tourists. In travelling, a man must carry half the entertainment along with him.

"'Listen,' said he, 'and you will hear more of the uses and advantages of travel.'

"Mr. Theobald at that instant was speaking to Lord Bolsover.

"'I will just tell you what I did. Brussels, Frankfort, Berlin, Vienna, Munich, Milan, Naples and Paris; and all that in two months. No man has ever done it in less.'

"'That's a fast thing; but I think I could have done it,' said Lord Bolsover, 'with a good courier. I had a fellow once, who could ride a hundred miles a day for a fortnight.'

"'I came from Vienna to Calais,' said young Leighton, 'in less time than the Government courier. No other Englishman ever did that.'

"'Hem! I am not sure of that,' said Lord Bolsover; 'but I'll just tell you what I have done—from Rome to Naples in nineteen hours; a fact, upon my honour—and from Naples to Paris in six days.'

"'Partly by sea?'

"'No! all by land;' replied Lord Bolsover, with a look of proud satisfaction.

"'I'll just tell you what I did,' Mr. Leighton chimed in again, 'and I think it is a devilish good