of fantastic forms, we fell fairly out one evening and broke the little
ligatures in two. No sooner had I quarrelled with Tarleton than Lady
Hasselton received him in my place, and a week afterwards I was favoured
with an anonymous letter, informing me of the violent passion which a
certain /dame de la cour/ had conceived for me, and requesting me to
meet her at an appointed place. I looked twice over the letter, and
discovered in one corner of it two /g's/ peculiar to the caligraphy of
Lady Hasselton, though the rest of the letter (bad spelling excepted)
was pretty decently disguised. Mr. Fielding was with me at the time.
"What disturbs you?" said he, adjusting his knee-buckles.

"Read it!" said I, handing him the letter.

"Body of me, you are a lucky dog!" cried the beau. "You will hasten
thither on the wings of love."

"Not a whit of it," said I; "I suspect that it comes from a rich old
widow whom I hate mortally."

"A rich old widow!" repeated Mr. Fielding, to whose eyes there was
something very piquant in a jointure, and who thought consequently that
there were few virginal flowers equal to a widow's weeds. "A rich old
widow: you are right, Count, you are right. Don't go, don't think of
it. I cannot abide those depraved creatures. Widow, indeed,--quite an
affront to your gallantry."

"Very true," said I. "Suppose you supply my place?"

"I'd sooner be shot first," said Mr. Fielding, taking his departure, and
begging me for the letter to wrap some sugar plums in.