spiritual father had been at them."

Doubtful whether this sentiment and period could be improved, Sir Charles
parted with his friend, leaving his sting in him like a friend; the
other's reflections as he sauntered home were not strictly those of a
wise, well-balanced mind; they ran in this style:

"When she said, 'Is not that to praise my person at the expense of my
wit?' I ought to have said, 'Nay, madam; could your wit disguise your
person, it would betray itself, so you would still shine confessed;' and
instead of that I said nothing!"

He then ran over in his mind all the opportunities he had had for putting
in something smart, and bitterly regretted those lost opportunities; and
made the smart things, and beat the air with them. Then his cheeks
tingled when he remembered that he had almost scolded her; and he
concocted a very different speech, and straightway repeated it in
imagination.

This is lovers' pastime; I own it funny; but it is open to one objection,
this single practice of sitting upon eggs no longer chickenable, carried
to a habit, is capable of turning a solid intellect into a liquid one,
and ruining a mind's career.

We leave Mr. Vane, therefore, with a hope that he will not do it every
night; and we follow his friend to the close of our chapter.

Hey for a definition!

What is diplomacy? Is it folly in a coat that looks like sagacity? Had