The methodists, Sir Charles; Vv’hat think you of the methoduts! Say you love ’em; and, and, and, adds-dines, you shall not be my nephew.

You now, my dear Mr. Selby, make me afraid of you. You throw out a menace, the onli^ one you could perhaps think of, that would make me tem-porize.

You need not, youneedaot, be afraid, Sir Charles! said my uncle, laughing. What sa}^ yuu, Harriet? Need he? Iiay? looking in my downcast face. Why speak you not, lovelij love? Need Sir Charles, if he had disobliged me, to have been ajraid? Hay?

Dear Sir! you have not of a long time been so

So, vchat, Harriet? So, viluit, dearest? looking me quite down.

Fie, INIr. Selby! said my grandmaniir.a.

Sir Charles, stepping to me, very galla.^tl}’ to(k my hand O Mr. Selby, you are not kind, said lie: but allow me to make my advantage of your unkiudness. My dear Trliss Byron, let you and me with — draw; in compassion to Mr. Selby, let us v/ithdraw: we will not hear him chidden, as I see the ladies think he ought to be.

And he hurried me off. The surprise made me appear more reluctant th.an I was in my heart.

Every one was pleased with his air and manner; and by tins means he relieved himself from subjecls with which he seemed not delighted, and obtained an opportunity to get me to himself.

Here had he stopt, he would have been v.-clcome: but hurrying me into the cedar parlour; I am jea-lous, m}’ love, Siiid he; putting his arm round me; You seemed loth to retire with me. Forgive me: but thus Ipuuiih you, whenever you give me cause: and, dear Lady G. he downright kissed me My lip; and not my cheek and in so fervent a way I tell you every-thing, my Charlotte I could have been angry had I known hoiv, from surprise. Be* fore I could recollect myself, he withdrew his arm; and, resuming his usual respectful air, it would have made me look affected, had I then taken notice of it. Rut I don’t romcmber any instance of the like freedom used to Lady Clementina.

My lovely love, said he, to express myself in your uncle’s stile, which is that of my heart, tell me, Can you have pity for a poor man, when he is miserable, who, on aceriain occasion, sliewed yo?^ none? See what a letter Sir Hargrave Pollexfen has written to Dr. Bartlett; who asks my advice about attending him.

I obtained leave to communicate it to you, my dear Lady L. and Lady G. Be pleased to return it to me. I presume, you will read it here.

DFAR DR. RAUTI.KTT.