Mrs. Chatt. Captain Thicknesse? But he has gone, Lady Cantire! I saw him start. I didn't mean him.
Lady Cant. Indeed? then I shall be obliged if you will say who it is you did mean.
Mrs. Chatt. Why, only her old friend and admirer—that little poet man, Mr. Blair.
Lady Cant. (to herself). And I actually sent him to her! (Rising in majestic wrath.) Albinia, whatever comes of this, remember I shall hold you entirely responsible!
[She sweeps out of the room; the other two ladies look after her, and then at one another, in silent consternation.
"I'll be off, or they'll nail me for church!"
THE WHIMS OF AMPHITRYON.
Isn't our good friend of the P. M. G. a little extravagant with his culinary raptures? However, we will not be outdone. If he rhapsodises the "Magnificent Mushroom," we have discovered a still more exalting theme, which, taking "whelk" as pronounced, we will call