is also of universal use to men of power at the levees, and is esteemed by the judicious placehunters, a more particular mark of distinction than a whisper.

The Laugh, among us, is the common risus of the ancients, and breaks forth spontaneously.

The Grin is generally made use of to display a beautiful set of teeth; but, under the same head must be classed, all old amorous dotards, who, when a young blooming wench touches their fancy, by an endeavour to recal youth into their cheeks, they immediately over-strain over-strain their muscular features, and shrivel the countenance into a grin.

The Horse-laugh is made use of with great success, in all kinds of disputation. The proficients, in this kind, by a well-timed laugh, baffle the most solid argument. This, upon all occasions, supplies the want of reason, and is received with great applause in coffee-house disputes: that side the laugh joins with, is generally observed to get the bet ter of his antagonist.

The prude has a wonderful esteem for the chain-laugh or dimple; she looks upon all other kinds of laughter as excessives of levity, and is never seen, upon the most extravagant jests, to disorder her features with a smile; her lips are composed with a primness peculiar to her character; all her modesty seems collected into her face, and but very rarely takes the freedom to sink her cheek into a dimple. The effeminate fop, who, by the long exercise of his countenance at the glass, is in the same situation, and you may generally see him admire his own eloquence by a dimple.

The young widow is only a chain for a time: her smiles are confined by decorum, and she is obliged to make her face sympathize with her habit; she looks demure by art, and by the strictest rules of decency is never allowed the smile, till the first offer or advance to her is over.

The wag generally calls in the horse-laugh to his assistance.

There are other kinds of grinners, which some people term sneerers. They always indulge their mirth at the expence of their friends, and all their ridicule consists in unseasonable illnature; but they should consider, that let them do what they will, they never can laugh away their own folly by sneering at other people's.

The coquette has a great deal of the sneerer in her composition; but she must be allowed to be a proficient in laughter, and one who can run through all the exercise of the features: she subdues the formal lover with a dimple, accosts the fop with a smile, joins with the wit in a downright laugh: to vary the air of her countenance, she frequently rallies with a grin, and when she hath ridiculed her lover quite out of his understanding, she, to complete his misfortunes, strikes him dumb with the horselaugh.

THE LOVER'S HEART.
Mr. Editor,

The following is recorded in the Historical Memoirs of Champagne, by Bougier. It is probable the true history will be acceptable.

The Lord de Coucy, vassal to the Count de Champagne, was

one of the most accomplished youths of his time. He loved, with an excess of passion, the lady of the Lord du Fayel, who felt for him reciprocal ardours. It was with the most poignant grief this lady heard her lover acquaint her, that he had resolyed to accompany the King and the Count de Champagne to the wars of the Holy Land; but she would not oppose his wishes, because she hoped that his absence might dissipate the jealousy of her husband. The time of departure having come, these two lovers parted with sorrows of the most lively tenderness. The lady, in quitting her lover, presented him with some rings, some diamonds, and with a string that she had woven herself of his own hair, intermixed with silk and buttons of large pearls, to serve him, according to the fashion of those days, to tie a magnificent hood which covered his helmet. These he gratefully accepted, and instantly departed.

:

When he arrived in Palestine, he received, at the siege of Acre, in 1191, in gloriously ascending the ramparts, a wound, which was declared mortal. He employed the few moments he had to live in writing to the Lady du Fayel and he made use of those fervid expressions which were natural to him in his afflictive situation. He ordered his 'squire to embalm his heart after his death, and to convey it to his beloved mistress, with the presents he had received from her hands on quitting her.

The 'squire, faithful to the dying commands of his master, returned immediately to France, to present the heart and the presents to the lady of du Fayel.

But when he approached the castle of this lady, he concealed himself in the neighbouring wood, till he could find some favourable moment to complete his promise. He had the misfortune to be observed by the husband of this lady, who recognised him, and who immediately suspected he came in search of his wife, with some message from his master. He threatened to deprive him of his life, if he did not divulge what had occasioned him to come there. The 'squire gave him for answer that his master was dead; but du Fayel not believing it he drew his sword to murder him. The man, frightened at the peril in which he found himself, confessed every thing; and put into his hands the heart and letter of his master. Du Fayel, prompted by the fellest revenge, ordered his cook to mince the heart, and, having mixed it with meat, he caused a ragout to be made, which he knew pleased the taste of his wife, and had it served to her. The Lady ate greedily of the dish.

After the repast du Fayel enquired of his wife, if she had found the ragout according to her taste; she answered him that she had found it excellent. "It is for this reason," he replied, "that I caused it to be served to you, for it is a kind of meat that you very much liked. You have, Madam," the savage du Fayel continued, "eaten the heart of the Lord de Coucy." But this she would not believe, till he shewed her the letter of her lover, with the string of his hair, and the diamonds she had given him. Then, shuddering in the anguish of her sensations, and urged by the darkest despair, she

told him, "It is true that I loved that heart, because it merited to be loved; for never could it find its superior and since I have eaten of so noble a meat, and that my stomach is the tomb of so precious a heart, I will take care that nothing of inferior worth shall be mixed with it." Grief and passion choaked her utterance. She retired into her chamber; she closed the door for ever; and, refusing to accept of consolation or food, she expired on the fourth day!!!

DUELLING.

If the proof of innocence necessarily resulted from superior skill and superior strength, there was unquestionable wisdom in the legal decisions of our ancestors by single combat, and in the regulations of modern honour. Duelling, as well as single combat of Gothic times, can be justified only upon the supposed certainty of its being exculpatory, the very idea of which is an insult to common sense; and, on any other footing, the practice must be absolutely vindictive, sanguinary, and murderous.

But skill, and strength, and courage out of the question, can the proofs of innocence---the existence of unsullied honour, be ascertained by the lucky direction of a pistol ball? Let the recent and melancholy end of an unfortunate gentleman be the best comment on the subject. In the time of the Crusades, there was a remarkable instance of judicial decision by combat, the justice of which remains questionable to this day. James le Gris, (the Esquire and favourite

of Peter II.) Count Alercon, fell in love with the wife of John de Caronge, one of the officers of that Count. The latter having accompanied the French army into the Holy Land, James le Gris took that opportunity of visiting his wife, who very cordially received him as her husband's friend. The artifices with which he at first attempted to seduce her being unsuccessful, he violated her honour by force. The injured lady communicated the violence which had been offered her to her husband, when he returned from Palestine. Caronge summoned the destroyer of his honour before the Parliament of Paris, which, for want of sufficient proofs of the crime, ordered that both parties should decide the quarrel by single combat.

The King and the whole Court were present at this duel, which was fought at Paris in the year 1386. John de Caronge was the conqueror, and his victory was sufficient to convince the whole nation of the justice of his cause, and the innocence of his wife. His adversary was delivered over to the executioner, and hanged at Montfaucon. Such is the account of this affair, as related by most historians. However, Juvenal des Ursins, Archbishop of Reims and Prelate, of Illustrious Virtues, (and, for the age in which he lived, of great literary talents,) in his History of Charles VI. asserts the innocence of the unsuccessful le Gris, as does also the Monk of St. Dennis. The wretch who had been really guilty of this outrage, they say, confessed the crime on his death-bed, and thereby fully exculpated the unfortunate Le Gris.

RECEIPTS FOR MAKING FRIEND
SHIP, ANCIENT AND MODERN,

In Pliny's Natural History, we find a curious receipt for making the Roman friendship cordial, that was universally esteemed in those days, and very few families were without it. In the same place, he says, that they were indebted to the Greeks for this receipt, who had it in the greatest perfection. The old Roman friendship was a composition of several ingredients, of which the principal was union of hearts (a fine flower that grew in several parts of the kingdom), sincerity, frankness, disinterestedness, pity, and tenderness, of each an equal quantity: these were all mixed up together with two rich oils, which they called perpetual kind wishes, and sincerity of temper; and the whole was strongly perfumed with the desire of pleasing, which has a most grateful smell, and was a sure restorative in all sorts of vapours. This cordial, thus prepared, was of so durable a nature, that no length of time could waste it; and, what is remarkable, says our author, it increased in weight and value the longer it was kept. The moderns have most grossly adulterated this fine receipt some of the ingredients, indeed, are not to be found; but what they impose upon you for friendship is as follows, viz.---Outward profession, (a common weed that grows every where), instead of the flower of union; the desire of being pleased; a large quantity of self-interest; convenience, and reservedness, many handfuls; a little of pity and tenderness; (but some pretend to make it up without any of these two last) and common

oil of inconstancy, which, like linseed oil, is cold drawn every hour, serves to mix them all together. Most of the ingredients being of a perishable nature, it will not keep, and shews itself to be counterfeit, by lessening continually both in weight and value.

COURT OF REQUESTS, LONDON.

Craddock, v. Whitelock.---This case, which should operate as a caution to tradesmen, is of an extraordinary complexion. The plaintiff, a pastry-cook, summoned the defendant for 11. 5s. 6d. for mince pies, and other pastry, furnished to his order, and delivered at his house, on ChristmasDay.

It appeared that Mr. Whitelock, intending to give his friends an hospitable reception on this annual festival, called on the Saturday preceding, at the plaintiff's shop, and put his talents in requisition for a supply of soup, mince pies, tarts, and ornamental pastry, to be delivered at his residence, at half-past five precisely, on the day in question, hot and cold, as required. The order was booked, and punctuality pledged; Christmas-day arrived, and the guests assembled in due course. About five minutes before the appointed time, Mrs. Whitelock, fearful her friends should be kept waiting for their dinners, as is too often the case, until appetite had forsaken them, dispatched a seryant to refresh the plaintiff's memory, who returned with an assurance, that the materials so essential to the display of her taste and hospitality, should follow immediately. Her apprehensions thus quieted, she suffered a quar

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ter of an hour to elapse, but neither soup nor puffs making their appearance, though impatience was evident in the faces of her guests, she became somewhat more agitated, not to say angry. A second message was dispatchExplanation followed. The delicious morsels had been sent; though, alas! they had never reached their destination. On questioning the boy who took them, it appeared, that just as he was about to ring at the plaintiff's gate, a female, whom he supposed to be one of the supernumeraries employed on this extraordinary occasion, came down the steps from the hall door, and seizing the tray and kettle, containing the hot and cold, chid him in no gentle terms for his delay, ordered him to go about his business, and call for his trumpery next day. The boy, suspecting no guile, in a form so fair and gentle, obeyed the order, and made a precipitate retreat. But no one should trust appearances. It would seem that this fair deceiver, having overheard the answer given to Mrs. Whitelock's messenger, placed herself in ambuscade, and succeeded in seizing the savory cargo, and thereby effecting equally the disarrange ment of Mrs. Whitelock's temper and the economy of her table, and for a time lowering the spirits of the assembled guests, by cutting off their supplies. The defendant, under these circumstances, resisted payment, on the ground of the plaintiff's not having fulfilled his contract for delivering, contending that, he was not justified in delivering the articles in question to a stranger, without ringing the bell, knocking at the door. The

or

plaintiff, on the other hand, contended, that he had delivered the articles according to order, at the defendant's residence, and was therefore entitled to payment.

The Court, after due deliberation, decided the case in favour of the defendant, to the entire satisfaction of a crowded audience.

THE PRISON FOR DEBTORS.

A prison for debt is the grave of the living, their own thoughts the worms that gnaw; the house of meagre looks and ill smells, where, to be out at the elbows is in fashion, and a great indecorum not to be thread-bare. It is so cursed a tenement, that the son is ashamed to be his father's heir in it: it is the dunghill of the law, upon which are thrown the ruins of the gentry, and mingled heaps of decayed tradesmen, and fraudulent bankrupts.

It is an university of poor scholars, whose wisdom is learned too late, wherein the arts are chiefly studied, to pray, to curse, and write letters; a place where all the inmates are close and fast friends, sure men, and such as you will always find at home; a mansion that none will take over the tenant's head,

APHORISMS.

Some deserve praise for what they have done; others for what they would have done, if they had been favoured with opportunities.

It is common to esteem most those things that are most rare--how comes it then, that virtue, which is allowed to be extremely rare, is disregarded?

Modesty is to merit what shades