vulgar, is the moral hydrophobia of the day; our weaknesses cost us a thousand times more regret and shame than our faults."
Lady Mandeville.—"Ah, if we could but keep a little for our own use of the wisdom we so liberally bestow on others! Nothing can be more entire than my conviction of the truth of what we have been saying—but I wish you good morning, for I must tease—I mean persuade—Lord Mandeville to go to Lady Falcondale's fête—not that I have myself the least wish to go,—but every body will be there."
"I wonder," said Lorraine, as she departed, "whether any thing can be more musical than Lady Mandeville's laugh. What a risk it is to laugh! Laughter may be generally classed under three heads,—forced, silly, or vulgar; but hers is the most sweet, real, spirituelle sound possible—it so appreciates the wit, which it increases as it catches—it speaks of spirits so fresh, so youthful! I think Weld is the traveller who says he loved to sit of an evening in the shade where he could hear the laughter of the Indian women—that it had on him the effect of music: I say the same of Lady Mandeville's."
Mr. Morland.—"The author of Paul Clifford
