Wycherley being at Tunbridge for the benefit of his health, after his return from the Continental trip the cost of which the king had defrayed, was walking one day with his friend, Mr. Fairbeard, of Gray's Inn. Just as they came up to a bookseller's shop, the Countess of Drogheda, a young, rich, noble, and lovely widow, came to the bookseller and inquired for the _Plain Dealer_--a well-known comedy of Wycherley's. "Madam," said Mr. Fairbeard, "since you are for the _Plain Dealer_, there he is for you"--pushing Wycherley towards her. "Yes," said Wycherley, "this lady can bear plain dealing; for she appears to me to be so accomplished, that what would be compliment said to others, would be plain dealing spoken to her." "No, truly, sir," said the Countess; "I am not without my faults, any more than the rest of my sex; and yet I love plain dealing, and am never more fond of it than when it tells me of them." "Then, Madam," said Fairbeard, "You and the Plain Dealer seem designed by Heaven for each other." In short, Wycherley walked with the Countess, waited upon her home, visited her daily while she was at Tunbridge, and afterwards when she went to London; where, in a little time, a marriage was concluded between them. The marriage was not a happy one. * * * * * A CAROUSE AT BOILEAU'S. Boileau, the celebrated French comedian, usually passed the summer at his villa of Auteuil, which is pleasantly situated at the entrance of the Bois de Boulogne. Here he took delight in assembling under his roof the most eminent geniuses of the age; especially Chapelle, Racine, Molière, and La Fontaine. Racine the younger gives the following account of a droll circumstance that occurred at supper at Auteuil with these guests. "At this supper," he says, "at which my father was not present, the wise Boileau was no more master of himself than any of his guests. After the wine had led them into the gravest strain of moralising, they agreed that life was but a state of misery; that the greatest happiness consisted in having been born, and the next greatest in an early death; and they one and all formed the heroic resolution of throwing themselves without loss of time into the river. It was not far off, and they actually went thither. Molière, however, remarked that such a noble action ought not to be buried in the obscurity of night, but was worthy of being performed in the face of day. This observation produced a pause; one looked at the other, and said, 'He is right.' 'Gentlemen,' said Chapelle, 'we had better wait till morning to throw ourselves into the river, and meantime return and finish our wine;'" but the river was not revisited. * * * * * THOMSON'S INDOLENCE.