ough which she
intended to surprise his heart. And now gently lifting those two
bright orbs, which had already begun to make an impression on poor
Jones, she discharged a volley of small charms from her whole
countenance in a smile. Not a smile of mirth or of joy, but a smile
of affection, which most ladies have always ready at their command,
and which serves them to show at once their good-humour, their
pretty dimples, and their white teeth.

"This smile our hero received full in his eyes, and was immediately
staggered with its force. He then began to see the designs of the
enemy, and indeed to feel their success. A parley now was set on
foot between the parties, during which the artful fair so slily and
imperceptibly carried on her attack, that she had almost subdued
the heart of our hero before she again repaired to acts of
hostility. To confess the truth, I am afraid Mr. Jones maintained a
kind of Dutch defence, and treacherously delivered up the garrison
without duly weighing his allegiance to the fair Sophia."

It has generally been the custom to couple the name of Smollett with
that of Fielding, but the former has scarcely any claim to be regarded
as a humorist, except such as is largely due to the use of gross
indelicacy and coarse caricature. He first attempted poetry, and wrote
two dull satires "Advice" and "Reproof." His "Ode to Mirth," is somewhat
sprightly, but of his songs the following is a favourable specimen:--

"From the man whom I love, though my heart I disguise,
I will freely describe the wretch I despise,
And if he has sense but to balance a straw
He will sure take the hint from the picture I draw.

"A wit without sense, without fancy, a beau,
Like a parrot he chatters, and struts like a crow;
A peacock in pride, in grimace a baboon,
In courage a hind, in conceit a gascon.

"As a vulture rapacious, in falsehood a fox,
Inconstant as waves, and unfeeling as rocks,
As a tiger ferocious, perverse as a hog,
In mischief an ape, and in fawning a dog.

"In a word, to sum up all his talents together,
His heart is of lead, and his brain is of feather,
Yet if he has sense to balance a straw
He will sure take the hint from the picture I draw."

Although Smollett indulged in great coarseness, I doubt whether he has
anything more humorous in his writings than the above lines. Sir Walter
Scot