The pleasure that Sir Charles, Lord L. and Dr. Bartlett, mutually expressed to see each other, was great, tender, and manly. My bustling nimble lord enjoyed over again his joy, at that of every other person; and he was ready, good-naturedly, to sing and dance That’s his way, poor man, to shew his joy; but he is honest, for all that. Don’t despise him, Harriet! He was brought up as an only son, and to know that he was a lord, or else he would have made a better figure in your eyes. The man wants not sense, I assure you. You may think me partial: but I believe the most foolish thing he ever did in his life, wasat church, and that at St. George’s, Hanover Square. Poor soul! He might have had a wife better suited to his taste, and then his very foibles would have made him shine. But, Harriet, it is not always given to us to know what is best for ourselves. Black women, I have heard remarked, like fair men; fair men, black women; and tempers suit best with contraries. Were we all to like the same person or thing equally, we should be for-ever engaged in broils: as it is, human nature (vile rogue f as I have heard it called) is quarrelsome enough: so my lord, being a soft man, Jell in love, if it please you, with a saucy woman. He ought to be meek and humble, you know. lie would not let me be quiet, till I was his. We are often to be punished by our own choice. But I am very good to him now. I don’t know, Harriet, whether it is best for me to break him of his trifling, or not: unless one were sure, that he could creditably support the alteration. Now can I laugh at him; and, if the baby is froppish, can coax him into good humour. A su-gar-plum, and a courtesy, will do at any time; and, by setting him into a broad grin, I can laugh away his anger. But should I endeavour to make him wise, as the man has not been used to it, and as his education has not given him a turn to significance, don’t you think he would be awkward; and what is worse, assuming? Well, I’ll consider of this, before I attempt to new-cast him. Mean time, I repeat Don’t you, my dear, for my sake, think meanly of Lord (t. Ha, ha, ha, hah! What do I laugh at, do you ask me, Harriet? Something so highly ri-diculous I have I have sent him away from me, so much ashamed of himself He bears any-thing from me note, that he knows I am only in play with him, and have so very right a heart I must lay down my pen Poor soul! Hah, hah, hah, hah! I do love him for his simplicity! * *