unhintables, and you have an imaginative portrait of the hero. But the
heroine! Ah! she, dear reader, if you have a taste for full-blown beauty
and widows, she will coax the coin out of your pockets, and yourselves into
the English Opera House, when we have told you what she acts, and how she
acts. Imagine her, the syren, with the quiet, confiding smile, the tender
melting voice, the pleasing highly-bred manner; just picture her in the
character of a Parisian widow--the free, unshackled, fascinating Parisian
widow--the child of liberty--the mother of--no, not a mother; for the
instant a husband dies, the orphans are transferred to convent schools to
become nephews and nieces. Well, we say for the third time, conceive Mrs.
Waylett, dressed with modest elegance, a single rose in her
hair--sympathise with her as she rushes upon the stage (which is "set" for
the _chambre meublée_ of a country inn), escaping from the persecutions of
a persevering traveller who _will_ follow her charms, her modest elegance,
her single rose, wherever they make their appearance. She locks the door,
and orders supper, declaring she will leave the house immediately after it
is eaten and paid for. Alas! the danger increases, and with it her fears;
she will pay without eating; and as the diligence is going off, she will
resume her journey, but--a new misfortune--there is no place in it! She
will, then, hire a postchaise; and the landlady goes to strike the bargain,
having been duly paid for a bed which has not been lain in, and a supper
that has not been eaten. As the lady hastens away, with every prospect of
not returning, the piece would inevitably end here, if a gentleman did not
arrive by the very diligence which has just driven off full, and taken the
same chamber the lady has just vacated; but more particularly if the only
chaise in the place had not been hired by the lady's wicked persecutor on
purpose to detain her. She, of course, returns to the twice-let chamber,
and finds it occupied by a sentimental traveller.

Here we have the "peculiarly perplexing predicament"--a lady and gentleman,