onal compensation for his confidence,
we left the innocent assistant of Mr. Powell, and marched into the
puppet-show, by the sound of the very bells the perversion of which the
good sexton had so pathetically lamented.

The first person I saw at the show, and indeed the express person I came
to see, was the Lady Hasselton. Tarleton and myself separated for the
present, and I repaired to the coquette. "Angels of grace!" said I,
approaching; "and, by the by, before I proceed another word, observe,
Lady Hasselton, how appropriate the exclamation is to _you_! Angels of
_grace_! why, you have moved all your patches--one--two--three--six--
eight--as I am a gentleman, from the left side of your cheek to the
right! What is the reason of so sudden an emigration?"

"I have changed my politics, Count,* that is all, and have resolved
to lose no time in proclaiming the change. But is it true that you are
going to be married?"

* Whig ladies patched on one side of the cheek, Tories on the other.

"Married! Heaven forbid! which of my enemies spread so cruel a report?"

"Oh, the report is universal!" and the Lady Hasselton flirted her fan
with the most flattering violence.

"It is false, nevertheless; I cannot afford to buy a wife at present,
for, thanks to jointures and pin-money, these things are all matters of
commerce; and (see how closely civilized life resembles the savage!) the
English, like the Tartar gentleman, obtains his wife only by purchase!
But who is the bride?"

"The Duke of Newcastle's rich daughter, Lady Henrietta Pelham."

"What, Harley's object of ambition!* Faith, Madam, the report is not so
cruel as I thought for!"

* Lord Bolingbroke tells us that it was the main end of Harley's
administration to marry his son to this lady. Thus is the fate of
nations a bundle made up of a thousand little private schemes.

"Oh, you fop!--but is it not true?"

"By my honour, I fear not; my rivals are too numerous and too powerful.
Look now, yonder! how they already flock around the illustrious heiress;
note those smiles and simpers. Is it not pretty to see those very fine
gentlemen imitating bumpkins at a fair, and grinning their best _for
a gold ring_! But you need not fear me, Lady Hasselton, my love cannot
wander if it would. In the quaint thought of Sidney,* love having once
flown to my heart, burned its wings there, and cannot fly away."

* In the "Arcadia," that museum of oddities and beauties.

"L