to interfere among friends, knew he was fond of dancing, and hoped to see him frequently at Ayscott. Now this really looked like Politeness; for Politeness is that feeling which prompts us to make others happy and pleased. with themselves, and which for this purpose puts off all dislike, all party-spirit, all affectation of superiority. But when we were informed the next day that Mr. Ayscott had seven marriageable daughters, we decided that his behaviour was not Politeness but Politesse.

We

We remember, shortly after Mrs. C. Nugent eloped with an officer in the dragoons, we were riding in Hydepark with poor Charles, who endeavoured to bear his loss unconcernedly, and betrayed not, except to a close observer, the canker that preyed upon his heart. were met in the Park by Sir Harry Soulis, an intimate acquaintance of our friend. He was riding at a brisk pace, but the moment he observed us he pulled up, and his flexible features immediately assumed the appearance of unfeigned sympathy. He came up to us, and began, "Ah! Charles! how are you? how is this unfortunate business to end? I feel for you Charles! upon my 'soul I feel for you! You know you may command me in any thing”—and he rode on with the same air of nonchalance that he had first worn. Immediately afterwards we met Colonel Stanhope, who also halted, and entered into conversation. He inquired after our friend's health, addressed a few indifferent remarks to us on the weather, bowed, and passed on. We are sure Nugent felt, as we should have felt under such circumstances;-Soulis had wounded his feelings-Stanhope had spared them. The officiousness of the former was Politesse-the silence of the latter was Politeness,

But their distinct shades were never so fully impressed upon our minds as upon a visit which we lately paid to two gentlemen, during a short tour. The first specimen of their dissimilarity is to be found in the letters by

which we were invited to partake of their hospitality: they were as follow:

"As Mr. P Courtenay will in the course of his tour be within a few miles of Melville Lodge, Mr. Melville hopes that he will not turn southward, without allowing him, for one day at least, the gratification of his company.

Melville Lodge, August, 1820."

"Dear Peregrine,-You 'll pass within eyeshot of my windows on your way to East Bourne. I am sure you'll stop a moment to ask your old friend how he does, and we will try to detain you for the night,

Yours as sincerely as ever,

MARMADUKE WARREN.

P.S. The girls would send love if I'd let 'em.

Hastings, August, 1820,"

Our first visit was paid at Melville Hall. We have known Mr. Melville long, and we know him to be one who is generally actuated by good motives; and when he is swayed by interested ones is himself unconscious of the fact. On the whole, his character is such, that when he is absent we feel the strongest inclination to like him; and when we are in his company we feel an equally strong inclination to say, "Mr. Melville, you are a fool." We arrived at the Hall in good time to prcpare for dinner, with its usual accompaniments of bows from our host, compliments from our hostess, and smiles from their daughters. A small party was invited to meet us, which somewhat diminished the frequency of the compliments we were doomed to undergo, while it rendered those which were actually forced upon us infinitely more distressing. We pass over the civilities we received at dinner, the care taken to force upon us the choicest morsels of fish, flesh, and fowl, the attention with which Mr. Melville assured us

*N, B. No relation to our worthy and respectable London Publisher. -P. C.

VOL, I,

1

that we were drinking his very best champagne. We hasten to take notice of the far more perplexing instances of Politesse which rendered miserable the evening. When tea and coffee had been disposed of, the Misses Melville sat down to the piano; and, as we are-passionately fond of music, and the ladies excel in it, we should have been perfectly happy if we had been allowed to enjoy that happiness unmolested. " Diis aliter visum est."---Our sisters were known to be tolerable singers; à fortiori, we must be downright nightingales ourselves. Upon the word of an Editor, we never committed any further outrage upon harmony than what takes place when we join in the chorus of our witty associate Mr. Golightly, or our well-meaning friend Mr. O'Connor, and we were now required to assist the Misses Melville in "La mia Dorabella." Horrible idea! Peregrine Courtenay warbling Italian! His Majesty of Clubs, sinking into an Opera-singer!--Politesse was sure he could sing-Politesse knew he had a sweet voice-Politesse knew we only refused from modesty ;---Politesse was disappointed, however, for we were immoveably determined not to be made a fool. Nevertheless we felt somewhat uncomfortable at being the subject of general observation; and this feeling was not diminished by what followed. Politesse,--in the shape of Mrs. Melville,-whispered it about that the fat silent young gentleman in the black coat was a great writer, who had published an extraordinary quantity of learning, and was likely to publish an extraordinary quantity more. This was all intended to flatter our vanity, and the consequence was that we were bored throughout the remainder of the evening by hearing whispers around us, "Is that the gentleman Mrs. Melville was speaking of ?" "I guessed who he was by the family likeness!" "I knew he was an author directly!" "How odd that he should be so reserved!" At the suggestion of Politesse Mrs. Melville next discovered that we were precisely a year older than Kitty,

and Mr. Melville hinted in a loud whisper that the girl would have ten thousand pounds. Finally, Politesse prepared for us the great state bed-room; and when we retired, insisted upon it that we had spent a most miserable evening. Alas! Politeness had hardly the grace to contradict Politesse upon this point.

How different was the reception we received on the following day! Our old friend Mr. Warren rose from his arm-chair as we entered, with a look that set formality at defiance. Mrs. Warren put by her work to observe how much we were grown; and their two daughters greeted with a smile, beautiful because it was unaffected, the scarce-remembered playmate of their childhood. The flowers which Elizabeth was painting, the landscape which Susan was designing, were not hastily concealed at the approach of their guest; nor was our old acquaintance Shock, who was our favourite puppy ten years ago, driven in his old age from the parlour rug at the appearance of an idler dog than himself. The few friends who met us at dinner were not prepared to annoy us by accounts of our abilities and attainments. The conversation was general and entertaining; and on re-consideration we perceived that Mr. Warren took pains to draw out what talent we possessed, although we could not at the same time perceive that such was the object of his attention. In the evening Elizabeth entertained us with Handel and Mozart, and Susan sung some simple airs, in a voice perhaps the more engaging because it was uncultivated. We were allowed to enjoy the "melody of sweet sounds" unmolested and unobserved. The quadrille which followed was not danced with the less spirit because the Brussels carpet supplied the place of a chalked floor, and a single pianoforte was substituted for the formality of a band. We were happy --because we were permitted to enjoy our happiness in our own way we were amused--because we did not perceive the efforts which were made for our amusement.

“This,” we exclaimed,—as we buttoned our coat, and proceeded on our journey the next morning,-this is real Politeness."

In spite of the endeavours of those who would dress our native manners in a Parisian costume, Politesse will never be the motive by which England as a nation will be characterized. As long as France shall be the mother of light heads, and Britain of warm hearts, the Frenchman will show his Politesse by the profundity of his bow, and the Englishman will prove his politeness by the cordiality of his welcome. Who is not content that it should be so ?

P. C.

A WINDSOR BALL.

We have often thought that the endeavours of a dancing-master go but a very little way to prepare a lady for a ball. Where it possible to procure such an acquisition, we should recommend to our sisters not only a Maitre à Danser, but a Maitre à Parler, inasmuch as it is usually much easier to dance than to talk. One does not immediately see why it should be so; dancing and talking are in a ball-room equally mechanical qualifications; they differ indeed in this, that the former requires a "light fantastic toe," and the other a light fantastic tongue. But for mind--seriously speaking, there is no more mind developed in small-talk than there is in chassez à droit.

We do not admire the taste of Etonians who dislike dancing; we are not of the number of those who go to a ball for the purpose of eating ice; on the contrary, we adore waltzing, and feel our English aversion for the