What a remarkably fine woman she is !-quite majestic, after one has been accustomed to dwarfs and puppets. After all, there is nothing so feminine and lovely as a fair complexion, especially when accompanied with that Corinthian air—that natural nobility, (if I may so express myself,) which at once stamps the high-born and high-bred woman of quality. If her hand alone were shewn to me, I should swear that it belonged to a person of rank. A complexion of this sort testifies the station of its possessor. One sees

Olives and Brunettes trundling mops and crying mackerel; but no menial ever possessed Lady Madeleine's soft and delicate tints. What a charm, too, in that gentle and modest demeanour, forming so happy a medium between rustic reserve and London flippancy!

Finding ourselves alone and the time hanging rather heavy, I began reading aloud Milton's Lycidas; but, before I had accomplished three pages, observed Julia fast asleep! Waked her, to remind her of her former declaration that she doted upon poetry. "So I do," was the reply, "but I like something funny: have you got Peter Pindar, or Dr. Syntax's Tour ?" Heavens! what a taste!-Requested her to play me one of Haydn's canzonets: found her harp was thrown aside with seven broken strings, and the piano so much out of tune that she had not touched it for weeks. Am assured, however, that she is passionately fond of music--when it is played by any one else; on the faith of which I subscribed to six concerts, and my wife. actually went to one. By love of the country I learn that she means Bath, Brighton, and Cheltenham, in

their respective seasons; but as to the rural, the romantic, and the picturesque, she protests that she has no particular penchant for "a cow on a common, or a goose on a green," and is even uninfluenced by the combined attractions of "doves, dung, ducks, dirt, dumplings, daisies, and daffidowndillies." Flippancy is not wit. Sorry to find a difference in our sentiments upon many essential points, and compelled to acknowledge that she is by no means a woman of that invariable good sense for which I had given her credit.

Compton and Harvey have quite become strangers. Could not understand the meaning-questioned the former upon the subject, when he asked me if I recollected one of the Miseries of Human Life-" Going to dine with your friend upon the strength of a general invitation, and finding by the countenance of his wife you had much better have waited for a particular one. I don't mind a cold dinner," he continued, "but I cannot stand cold looks; and Harvey is too much in request to go where he is considered, even by silent intimation, as 'un de trop.'" Expostulated with Mrs. Egerton upon this subject, when she denied the fact of any incivility, but confessed her wonder that I should associate with such a rattling fellow as Compton, who had nothing in him. Nothing in him!-no more has soda water; its attraction consists in its effervescence and volatility. Compton is an honest fellow, and loves good eating and drinking. He has vivacity, edacity, and bibacity ;—what the deuce would she have?

By the by, those odious Jacksons positively haunt the house. It is lucky the old Nabob is worth money, for he is worth nothing else. The bore!he has now given me five different receipts for bile, and I have been six times in at the death of that cursed tiger that he shot near Calcutta. Another dip would have made his fat wife a negress. Let no man offer to hand her down stairs, unless he can carry three hundred weight, and listen to a ten minutes' wheezing. Absurd to wear two diamond necklaces, where not one of them could be seen for her three double chins. The daughter, whom they call handsome (!!!) squints; the clever one is a Birmingham blue-stocking; the youngest is good-tempered, but quite a fool. As to "dear cousin Patty," she seems to have taken up her residence with us, though she has nothing to do but flatter my wife and wash the lap-dog. I thought it was against the canon law to marry a whole family.

Shooting season-nothing to do at home-devilish dull-Compton drove me in his tilbury to Hertfordshire---lent me my old Joe Manton-never shot better in my life-missed nothing. Accepted an invitation from Sir Mark Manners to pass a fortnight with him in Norfolk, upon the strength of which bought a new patent percussion gun, and promise myself famous sport. Got a letter from Harvey, at Melton-the hunt was never kept up in such prime style ;-ran down just for one day-so much delighted that I purchased a famous hunter for only three hundred guineas, and was out every morning till it was time to

start across the country for Sir Mark's shooting box in Norfolk.

Returned from Sir Mark's-never spent a pleasanter fortnight in my life-famous preserves-my gun did wonders. Mrs. Egerton thought proper to object to the great expense of my recommencing a huntingestablishment, while she tormented me to death at the same time to give her a box at the Opera. In all that regards my amusements, I cannot accuse her of any want of economy; but in every thing that has reference to her own freaks and fancies, she is perfectly regardless of cost. She is of the Hudibrastic quality, and

Compounds for sins she is inclined to,
By damning those she has no mind to."

Addison observes in the 205th Number of the Spectator, "that the palest features look the most agreeable in white; that a face which is overflushed appears to advantage in the deepest scarlet, and that a dark complexion is not a little alleviated by a black hood:"--which he explains, by observing that a complexion, however dark, never approaches to black, or a pale one to white, so that their respective tendencies are modified by being compared with their extremes. Notwithstanding this authority, my wife, whose skin is almost Moorish, persists in wearing a white hat, which gives her the look of a perfect Yarico. Declined walking out with her this morning unless she changed it, which she obstinately refused, after wrangling with me for half an hour; and, as I was deter

mined to exercise my marital authority, I went out without her. Is it not astonishing that a person of the smallest reflection or good sense should stubbornly contend about such a mere trifle ? She has a monstrous disposition to domineer, which I am resolved to resist.

Met Harvey in my promenade, who told me, that as there had been no committee at Brookes's or Arthur's since I withdrew my name, there was still time to reinstate it, which he kindly undertook to do for me. Hurried on myself to the Alfred and Union, and got there just in time to take down the notices. How excessively fortunate! Acting the Hermit in London won't do: I hate affectation of any sort. Long evenings at home I hate still worse. One must have some resources; for the romance of life, like all other romances, ends with marriage. The Rovers, Sir Harry Wildairs, Lovebys, and other wild gallants of the old comedies, never appear upon the stage after this ceremony; their freaks are over-their " оссираtion's gone"-they are presumed to have become too decent and dull for the dramatist. Their loves were a lively romance; their marriage is flat history. -The uncertainty of Bachelorship unquestionably gives a charm to existence;—a married man has nothing farther to expect; he must sit down quietly, and wait for death. A single one likes to speculate upon his future fate; he has something to look forward to, and while he is making up his mind to what beauty he shall offer his hand, he roves amid a harem of the imagination, a sort of mental Polygamist. A