blacken that angel's character
with foul words: and, innocent yourself, should respect the most
innocent as she is the most lovely of women! Oh, George, are you to be
my brother?"

"I hope to have that honour," answered George, smiling. He began to
perceive the other's drift.

"What, then, what--though 'tis too much bliss to be hoped for by sinful
man--what, if she should one day be your sister? Who could see her
charms without being subjugated by them? I own that I am a slave. I own
that those Latin Sapphics in the September number of the Gentleman's
Magazine, beginning Lydicae quondam cecinit venustae (with an English
version by my friend Hickson of Corpus), were mine. I have told my
mother what hath passed between us, and Mrs. Lambert also thinks that
the most lovely of her sex has deigned to look favourably on me. I have
composed a letter--she another. She proposes to wait on Miss Lydia's
grandpapa this very day, and to bring me the answer, which shall make
me the happiest or the most wretched of men! It was in the unrestrained
intercourse of family conversation that I chanced to impart to my
father the sentiments which my dear girl had uttered. Perhaps I spoke
slightingly of your courage, which I don't doubt--by Heaven, I don't
doubt: it may be, she has erred, too, regarding you. It may be that
the fiend jealousy has been gnawing at my bosom, and--horrible
suspicion!--that I thought my sister's lover found too much favour with
her I would have all my own. Ah, dear George, who knows his faults? I am
as one distracted with passion. Confound it, sir! What right have you to
laugh at me? I would have you to know that risu inepto"

"What, have you two boys made it up?" cries the General, entering at
this moment, in the midst of a roar of laughter from George.

"I was giving my opinion to Mr. Warrington upon laughter, and upon his
laughter in particular," says Jack Lambert, in a fume.

"George is bound over to keep the peace, Jack! Thou canst not fight him
for two years; and between now and then, let us trust you will have made
up your quarrel. Here is dinner, boys! We will drink absent friends, and
an end to the war, and no fighting out of the profession!"

George pleaded an engagement, as a reason for running away early from
his dinner; and Jack must have speedily followed him, for when the
former, after transacting some brief business at his own lodgings, came
to Mr. Van den Bosch's door, in Bloomsbury Square, h