for wigs are coming into fashion.' 'But if even in trifles she learn to betray, how can you be sure that, in the most important concerns of life, she will not play the traitress?' 'Oh no fear,' cried Mrs Boswell, nodding her head as she always did when she meant to look sagacious; 'I shall be too knowing for her, I warrant.' 'A blessed emulation!' thought I. Our dialogue was interrupted by the entrance of Mr Boswell, whose features seemed animated by some incipient scheme. He took his place beside his mate, and forthwith began to toy and flatter; looking, however, as if he would fain have ventured to change the subject. At length the secret came forth. He had met a college companion, with whom he had a great inclination to dine that day. Mrs Boswell said nothing; but she looked denial. Mr Boswell sat silent for a little, and then renewed his manoeuvres. The praises of a favourite cap soothed the lady into quiescence; for good-humour is too lively a term to express the more amiable turns of Mrs Boswell's temper. The petitioner seized the favourite moment. 'I should really like to dine with poor Tom Hamilton to-day,' said he. 'Poor fiddlesticks!' returned the polite wife. 'What have you to do dining with Tom Hamilton?' 'I don't know, my love: we have not met for twenty years; and he pressed me so much to come and talk over old stories, that--that I was obliged to give him a kind of half-promise.' 'Nonsense!' quoth the lady, with a decisive tone and aspect; and poor Mr Boswell, with a sigh of resignation, moved his chair towards the fire-place, and began to draw figures in the ashes. Whether this operation assisted his courage, I know not; but, in about ten minutes, he told me, in a half whisper, 'that, if I would entertain Mrs Boswell, he rather thought he would dine with Tom Hamilton.' 'And why should you not? For a husband to go out, it is sufficient that he wills it,' said I; parodying a maxim which was at that time the watchword of a more important revolt. I fancy the smile which accompanied my words was, for the moment, more terrific to Mr Boswell than his lady's frown, for he instantly left us; and having secured his retreat beyond the door, put his head back into the room, saying, with a farewell nod, and a voice of constrained ease. '_Au revoir_, my darling! I dine with Hamilton.' 'Why, Mr Boswell!' screamed the wife, in a tone between wrath and amazement; but the rebel was beyond recall.