his bag, and only brief behind him. They say he's ruined for life. Write soon.
"Your's ever,
"Cynthia Courtown."
Ernest Clay, Esq., to Vivian Grey, Esq.
"Dear Grey!
October,—18—
"I am sick of key-bugles and country balls! All the girls in the town are in love with me—or my foraging cap. I am very much obliged to you for your letter to Kennet, which procured every thing I wanted. The family turned out bores, as you had prepared me. I never met such a clever family in my life; the father is summoning up courage to favour the world with a volume of sermons; both the sons have had sonnets refused by the London magazines; and Isabella Kennet most satisfactorily proved to me, after an argument of two hours, which for courtesy's sake, I fought very man-
