our

corner of the Music-room, we proceeded, according to our ancient custom, to speculate upon character. Our attention was first attracted by a tall gentleman of a very noble appearance, who was leaning against a pillar, in an attitude of profound meditation. His dress was after the English fashion, but the cast of his features, and his short curling hair, sufficiently denoted him to be a foreigner. His eyes were fixed directly upon us, but we satisfied curiosity by an attentive survey, without fear of detection, as his mind was evidently some furlongs distant. Upon inquiry we heard that he was an Indian Chieftain, by name Teioninhokarawn, (we have doubts as to the correctness of our orthography.) He had done considerable services to the British arms in the American war, and had now been invited by her Ladyship as the Lion of the Evening. He had been surrounded without intermission by a tribe of Quizzers, Loungers, and Laughers, but one glance was sufficient to convince us that Teioninhokarawn was-alone.

We observed Lady Georgiana Wilmot standing at the other side of the room, the very picture of fatigue. She had been singing much, and was evidently quite exhausted. A young star of fashion was moving towards her with a languishing step; and, as we had a strong curiosity to hear his address, we changed our station for that purpose.. "'Pon my soul," the gentleman began with a bow, "you are divine to-night."-" Am I?" said the lady, with a vacant gaze." Never heard you better voice," returned her assailant. Her Ladyship knew it was the tone of flattery, so she smiled, but she had neither spirits nor sense sufficient to attempt an answer.—We immediately decided that Lady Georgiana was-alone.

in

We next proceeded to the card-room: at first the din, and the disputing, and the quarrelling, was so loud, that we doubted whether we should find any solitude there; but another look convinced us of our mistake. Lord

Mowbray was evidently alone. He was walking up and down, deliberating whether he should sacrifice his conscience or his place at to-morrow's division. Not less apparent was the solitude of the Duchess of Codille; although her Grace was busily engaged at cassino with a select party of Right Honourables. She had been for a long time alone in the contemplation of her new brocade, and was recalled into company by the vociferation of her partner, "Rat me if I ever saw your Grace play so ill!"

We were about to retire to the ball-room, when we remarked our noble hostess reclining on an ottoman, seemingly quite exhausted with fashionable fatigue. She was still, however, exerting herself to do the agréable, and was talking with appalling rapidity to every one who approached her, although utterly unconscious of what she heard or said. We advanced to pay our respects, and were saluted with "Ah! my Lord! what has kept you away so long? and there's Ellen, poor thing, dying to see you! Ellen, love!" With some, difficulty we explained to her Ladyship that she was mistaken as to our rank. “Eh! Mon Dieu! Sir Charles," she exclaimed, "Pardonnezbut I'm really dead with ennui." We allowed ourselves to be knighted without further explanation, and made a precipitate retreat, for we perceived that her Ladyship, after the labour of the evening, would be very glad to be -alone.

The first survey we took of the ball-room presented us with nothing but cheerful faces and laughing eyes: at the second we discovered even here much and melancholy loneliness. There were moralists without sense, and country 'squires without acquaintance; beaux without a thought, and belles without a partner. We hastened to make a closer study of the various characters which presented themselves.

We first addressed ourselves to Mr. Morris, a respectable Member of Parliament, with whom we had become acquainted the year before in Norfolk. "What! you're

not a dancer, Mr. Morris?" we began: "By the Lord! Sir," he returned, "if this Bill passes-"-We passed on, much vexed that we had intruded on our worthy friend's solitude.

We were hastening to accost Maria Kelly, a very interesting girl, whose lover had lately left this country for Minorca, when we were attracted by a conversation between an exquisite and our old acquaintance General Brose. "Ah! General!" said the Dandy, "how long have you ceased to foot it ?" "Foot!" interrupted the General," by Jupiter! their cavalry was 10,000 strong." -The old man was decidedly alone.

Before we could reach the recess in which Maria was sitting, she had been assailed by an impertinent." May I have the honour and felicity-" he began. The poor girl started from her reverie with a sort of vacant gaze, and replied, "he sailed last Tuesday, Sir!" "Sola in siccâ," said the impertinent, and lounged on. not the barbarity to speak to her.

We had

Old Tom Morley, the misanthrope, had been admiring a wax taper in an unthinking sort of way ever since we entered the room; we went up prepared to be witty upon him; but we had hardly opened our mouth when he cut us short with "For God's sake leave me alone!" and we left him alone. We were proceeding in our observations, when we saw Ellen Mordaunt, the beautiful daughter of our hostess, surrounded by a set of dashing young officers, at the other end of the room. We had just began to examine the features of one of them, who was somewhat smitten, and appeared prodigiously alone, when the idol herself turned upon us that bright and fascinating eye,

"Which but to see is to admire,

And oh forgive the word,—to love!"

We had originally inserted here a rhapsody on Ellen's glance, which would have occupied, as our printer assures us, three pages and a half; but, in mercy to our friends,

we have erased this, and shall content ourselves with stating that we were alone for at least ten minutes, before we recollected that it was five o'clock, and that we ought to think of retiring from the solitude of Lady Mordaunt's "At Home."

F. G.

POLITENESS AND POLITESSE.

"I cannot bear a French metropolis."-JOHNSON.

WE have headed our article with two words which are very often, and certainly very improperly, confounded together. Nobody needs to be told that the one is from the English, the other from the French vocabulary; but there may perhaps be some who will be surprised to hear that the one expresses an English, the other a French quality.

Frown if you will, Monsieur Duclos, we must maintain that the English are the only people who have a true idea of politeness. If we are wrong, our error may be excused for the feeling which prompts it; but we believe we are right, and we will try to make our readers believe so.

The English are kind in their Politeness;--the French are officious in their Politesse: the Politeness of the English is shown in actions ;-the Politesse of the French evaporates in sound: English Politeness is always disinterested;-French Politesse is too often prompted by selfishness.

When we consider the various forms of these qualities, we appear to be discriminating between the rival merits of two contending beauties, who reign with equal dominion, and divide the admiration of an adoring

world. There are many who prefer the ingenuous delicacy of Politeness, and we congratulate them on their truly English feeling;--there are perhaps more who are attracted by the coquettish vivacity of Politesse, and we do not envy them their French taste.

A variety of instances of both these traits must have occurred to everybody, but as everybody does not behold the shades of character through the exact medium of an Editorial Microscope, we will endeavour to bring out more distinctly those examples which seem to us to bear immediately on the subject.

When you dine with old Tom Hardy, he gives you little more than a joint of meat, a bottle of excellent port, and a hearty welcome ;--when Lord Urban "requests the honour" of your company, you are greeted with every delicacy the season can afford; you are pampered with every wine, "from humble port to imperial tokay," and you are put to the blush by every form of adulation that a wish to be civil can devise.

Yet we

had rather dine once with Tom Hardy than a hundred times with Lord Urban;* for the mutton of the one is cooked by Politeness, and the turtle of the other is dressed by Politesse.

About a month ago, as we were shooting in the north of England with the son of a celebrated Tory Baronet, we were encountered by Mr. Ayscott, a landed proprietor notorious for his Whig principles. We were somewhat surprised to see the latter divest himself of all prejudices in a moment; he came up to our companion with the greatest appearance of cordiality, shook him by the hand, reminded him that politics ought not

* "I enter my protest against this doctrine."-W. RowLey. "So do I-in respect to the wine.”—P. O'CONNOR. "So do I-for Lord Urban is a Whig."-F. WENTWORTH. "So do I-for his Lordship never contradicts one."-J. Lozell. "So do I-."-MICHAEL OAKLEY..