Two men are standing near a fruit-shop in St. James’s street. There are some pine-apples within the window, and a poor woman, with an infant crying at her empty breast, without. One of the gentlemen walks in, pays a guinea for a pine-apple, which he calmly devours; while the woman implores him for a penny, to buy her a morsel of bread—and implores in vain: not that this fine gentleman values a penny; but to put his hand in his pocket would give him some trouble;—the distress of the woman gives him none. The other man happens to have a guinea in his pocket also; he gives it to the woman, walks home, and dines on beef-steaks, with his wife and children. Without doing injustice to the taste of the former, we may believe, that the latter received the greater gratification for his guinea.—You will never convince me, however, that his motive in bestowing it was as selfish as the other’s. Some few days after the adventure I mentioned in my last letter, I met F—— and B—— at the opera. They had become acquainted with each other at my lodgings two days before, according to B——’s desire.—It gave me pleasure to see them on so good a footing. F—— invited us to go home and sit an hour with him before we went to bed;—to which we assented. The Marquis then told us, we should have the pleasure of seeing Fanchon, in her best gown, and Dubois, with his new leg—for he had ordered his valet to invite them, with two or three of his companions, to a little supper. While the Marquis was speaking, his coach drove up to the door of the opera—where a well-known lady was at that moment waiting for her carriage. B—— seemed to recollect himself of a sudden, saying, he must be excused from going with us, having an affair of some importance to transact at home. The Marquis smiled—shook B—— by the hand—saying, c’est apparemment quelque affaire qui regarde la constitution, vivent les Anglois pour l’amour patriotique. When we arrived at the Marquis’s, the servants and their guests were assembled in the little garden behind the hotel, and dancing, by moon-light, to Dubois’s music. He and Fanchon were invited to a glass of wine in the Marquis’s parlour.—The poor fellow’s heart swelled at the sight of his benefactor.—He attempted to express his gratitude; but his voice failed, and he could not articulate a word.