speech. Before we had time to remonstrate against this manifest breach of privilege, we found ourselves in the gallery of the House of Lords, and began to think we never should make our escape from this amusing torture. Fortunately at this moment a freeholder of entered the room. One of the candidates was a friend of Corinna's, and she hurried from us, after a thousand apologies, to learn the state of the poll.

"Sic nos servavit Apollo."

Our next companion was Sappho the Blue-stocking. We enjoyed a literary confabulation for some time, for which we beg our readers to understand we are every way qualified. The deep stores of our reading, enlivened by the pungent readiness of our wit, are bona fide the admiration of London as well as of Windsor belles; we beg our friends to have this in mind whenever they sit down to peruse us. But to proceed-we very shortly perceived that Sappho was enchanted with our erudition, and the manner in which we displayed it. She was particularly pleased with our critiques on "Zimmerman upon Solitude," and was delighted by the praise we bestowed (for the first time in our life) on Southey's "Thalaba." We had evidently made considerable progress in her affections, when we ruined ourselves by a piece of imprudence which we have since deeply regretted. We were satirical, this satire is the Devil!-we were satirical upon German literature. The lady turned up her nose, turned down her eyes, bit her lip, and looked-we cannot explain how she looked, but it was very terrific. We have since heard she is engaged in translating Klopstock's "Messiah" into the Sanscrit.

We were next introduced to one of those ladies who are celebrated for the extraordinary tact which they display in the discovery of the faults of their sex. Catherine is indeed one of the leaders of the tribe. She has the extraordinary talent which conveys the most sarcastic remarks in a tone of the greatest kindness. In her the language of hatred assumes the garb of affection, and the observation which is prompted by envy appears to be dictated by compassion. If in her presence you bestow commendation upon a rival, she assents most warmly to your opinion, and immediately destroys its effect by a seemingly extorted "but." We were admiring Sophia's beautiful hair." Very beautiful!" said Catherine, but she dresses it so ill!" We made some allusion to Georgiana's charming spirits." She has everlasting vivacity, said Catherine, "but it's a pity she is so indiscreet." Then followed something in a whisper which we do not feel ourselves at

* Sir Francis Wentworth points our quotation thus,→

"Sic nos. servavit A-Poll-O !”—HOR.

N

liberty to repeat. We next were unguarded enough to find something very fascinating in Amelia's eyes. "Yes," replied Catherine, "but then she has such an unfortunate nose between them." Finally, in a moment of imprudent enthusiasm, we declared that we thought Maria the most interesting girl in the room. We shall never, (although we live, like our predecessors, Griffin and Grildrig, to the good old age of forty Numbers,) we shall never, we repeat, forget the "Some people think so!" with which our amiable auditress replied to our exclamation. We saw we were disgraced, and, to say the truth, were not a little pleased that we were no longer of Catherine's Privy Council.

Now all these Ladies are foolish in their way. Theodosia is a silent fool, Emily is a timid fool, Corinna is a talkative fool, Sappho is a learned fool, and Catherine is a malicious fool. With their comparative degrees of moral merit we have nothing to do; but in point of the agreeable, we hesitate not to affirm that the silent fool is to us the more insupportable creature of the five.

We lately were present at a large party, where an Etonian, for whom we have a great esteem, was terribly abused by a witty Marchioness for his inflexible taciturnity. Without entering upon the merits of this particular case, let us be allowed to plead in behalf of our sex, that a Gentleman may be silent when a Lady is silly; and that it is needless for a Beau to be entertaining, where a Belle is decidedly impracticable.

F. G.

SIR THOMAS NESBIT'S DEFINITION OF A GOOD FELLOW.

"Vir bonus est quis!"-HOR.

BEING desired by his Majesty to draw up, for the instruction of all whom it may concern, 66 a Definition of a Good Fellow," I thought it proper to apply to the Members of the Club individually, for such hints as they could furnish me with, for the prosecution of the design. I received the following:

MR. GOLIGHTLY,

A Good Fellow is one who rides blood horses, drives four-in-hand, speaks when he's spoken to, sings when he's asked, always turns his back on a dun and never on a friend.

MR. LE BLANC.

A Good Fellow is one who studies deep, reads Trigonometry, and burns Lovesongs, has a most cordial aversion for Dancing and D'Egville, and would rather encounter a Cannon than a Fancy Ball.

HON. G. MONTGOMERY.

A Good Fellow is one who abhors Moralists and Mathematics, and adores the Classics and Caroline Mowbray.

SIR F. WENTWORTH.

A Good Fellow is one who attends the Fox Dinner, and drinks the Queen's health, who would go the Indies to purchase Independence, and would rather encounter a Buffalo than a Boroughmonger.

MR. M. STERLING.

A Good Fellow is a good neighbour, a good citizen, a good relation,-in short, a Good Man.

MR. M'FARLANE.

A Good Fellow is "a bonnie, braw John Hielandman.”

MR. O'CONNOR.

A Good Fellow is one who talks loud and swears louder, cares little about learning and less about his neckcloth,-loves whisky, patronises bargemen, and wears nails in his shoes.

MR. MUSGRAVE.

A Good Fellow is-prime-flash-and bang-up.

MR. BURTON.

A Good Fellow is one who knows" what's what," keeps accounts, and studies Cocker.

MR. ROWLEY.

A Good Fellow likes Turtle and cold Punch, drinks Port when he can't get Champagne, and dines on Mutton with Sir Robert, when he can't get Venison at My Lord's.

MR. LOZELL.

A Good Fellow is something compounded of the preceding.

MR. OAKLEY.

A Good Fellow is something perfectly different from the preceding, and Mr. Lozell is an Ass.

And now, after so many and so excellent descriptions, what can Sir Thomas add?

Why to be sure I am placed in rather a difficult situation; however, with due deference to the opinions of the above highlyrespected Gentlemen, I must conjure up the beau ideal of "a Good Fellow."-First of all, as a foundation for a multitude of virtues, he must be abundantly good-natured. Now, by goodnature I do not understand that easy, timid, unmeaning sort of complaisance which says "Yes" to every body, merely from the fear of saying "No;" nor that soft simplicity, which, without any will or control of its own, suffers itself to be turned about like the weathercock on the steeple, hardly inquiring whether it moves to right or wrong purposes; and which, by taking every thing in

*

• No reflection on our worthy friend Mr. Lozell, on the word of a true Nesbit.

good part, however ill-meant, acquires the enviable distinction of standing as a public butt, at which any fool thinks himself entitled to take a random shot, and invariably confers upon its possessor the honourable appellation of Cawker. My hero should have just enough of this temper to enable him to give a joke and take one with equal pleasure. He must be seldom passionate, and never sulky; not inclined to quarrels, but still less to stand calmly by, if his schoolfellows or himself were unprovokedly attacked. He would never give up his accomplices, although threatened with tenfold punishment, and would run the risk of a flogging himself to save another from the certainty of one. I would have him with just sufficient reading to have something to say for himself, and just sufficient wit to make what he says agreeable. I will admit, however, that there is not much objection to his being a pretty good scholar, provided he is ready to communicate his knowledge when there is occasion,-to construe the lesson for the general good, and to do a few verses now and then, upon a push, for some unfortunate blockhead on a regular week,-provided, too, that he is never caught out in a quotation. He ought to like all sorts of games, though it is not at all necessary that he should excel in any one, provided that he enters into the spirit of them, and takes particular care not to give his adversary a wilful kick at football, and not to direct his cricket-ball against the legs instead of the wicket of the player. With all these perfections, it is his absolute duty to hate pride as he does lying,-to hate lying as he does hypocrisy, and hypocrisy as he does the Devil. Thus you see he will be kind, generous, pleasant, and useful-and what further can any one desire? Perhaps you may be inclined to think I have exacted rather too much.

I have, indeed, some reason to suppose that very few of the above-mentioned qualities are requisite to form what an Etonian would call a Good Fellow; and that term seems so often applied to undeserving and opposite characters, that I am inclined to think that the judgment of the School in this respect is neither very severe nor very consistent. Once I was extremely surprised at hearing a boy mentioned as a Good Fellow whom I had always held in the light of a reputed bully, whose tyranny, in common with others, I had frequently felt, and abused. This change was accounted for by his having assisted a party in a contest with some blackguards, either out of wantonness, the mere love of fighting, or perhaps, after all, because he could not help it. I have often been present when the epithets of Beast and Good Fellow have been given to the same person in less than a minute, the latter of which was apparently used as a conciliatory, upon his consenting to lend a book which he had before refused. What way of entreating can be so effective, so moving, as the usual form?" Pray

do me what I ask, and you will be a Good Fellow.". The name, hackneyed as it is, seems to have an inexpressible charm-it is equivalent to thanks and to flattery-an incitement to perform a service-a reward when it has been performed. I for my own part entertain a great respect and veneration for this honourable title, and I cannot sufficiently regret that it should be given to the ill-natured because they happen once to have deviated from their usual practice; to the sullen, because they sometimes laugh; to the stingy, because they now and then squeeze out from their purses an extravagant shilling; to the bully, because he for once in a way bullies those who deserve it. I think, however, it may with great justice be applied to whoever is strongly attached to his own pursuits, but never abuses those of others. In this opinion I am the more decided, from my willingness to allow this title to many, who are deficient in most of the above-mentioned qualifications. In short, I am very ready to extend the appellation to every one who has a kind heart; to every one who "lives as he ought to do;" to every one who sweetens his last glass of port by drinking "Prosperity to Eton, happiness to his schoolfellows, and long life to The Etonian.'

T. N.

LOVERS' Vows.

"What grace hast thou, thus to reprove

These worms for loving?"-SHAKSPEARE.

WE were engaged the other day in making some purchases at Flint's, when Lady Honoria Saville entered, attended by the Hon. George Comyn. As the lady is a professed Coquette, and the gentleman a professed Dangler, we conceived it by no means improper to play the listener; for the conversation of these characters is seldom such as to require much secresy. We therefore placed ourselves in a convenient situation for hearing whatever was said by the Beau, the Belle, and the Milliner, which last I consider the most rational person of the three. The questions which were put to her by her Ladyship escaped us; they seemed to be conveyed, not in the language of common mortals, but in signs which were to us incomprehensible. Without exposing ourselves to the notice of either party, we were beyond measure amused at the timely aid, which the Milliner's description of her wares afforded to the Lover's description of his passion; for whenever the latter was at a loss for words, the former stepped in to finish his sentence, and occasionally gave a point to it, in which Lovers' Vows are generally deficient.