defeated the Spanish armada at La Hogue; or any little trifling mistake of that kind. The sweet smile of harmony and good humour will atone for a false concord. Our hero, in his criticisms upon the productions of ladies, shewed, that with him at least, the age of chivalry was not gone. It was now the month of December, when one morning Hamilton was told a young woman wanted to speak to him. “I have seen her before,” said the servant; “I remember her shop-woman to Miss Edging the milliner.” “Oh, I suppose she must want you, Charlotte?” “Very probably,” said Charlotte; “I expect a cap home.” “No, miss, the cap will not be ready till to-morrow morning; it is my master she wants.” Our hero accordingly attended in the drawing-room, and saw a very pretty little girl about twenty, who somewhat flurried, and blushing, begged pardon for the great liberty she had taken; “but when business is slack,” she said, “during summer, I have been doing a little in the novel line; and Mr. Nincompoop, who keeps the eminent press for that kind of _larning_, and who is a most capital judge, has been pleased to think very well of it, and now it is published. But they tell me that it is of great consequence to have it well spoken of in the Reviews. Having, therefore, the honour of serving your mother and sister, and having, I believe, given them satisfaction, particularly in bonnets (for Miss Hamilton is very partial to my bonnets); I have even had the honour of lacing cravats for you, sir: therefore, sir, I thought you would excuse my freedom in begging a merciful criticism. I am a young beginner, sir, and I hope you will make allowances.” “He must be a very insensible critic,” said our hero, “that could see so very sweet a girl, and be disposed to severity.” “Oh, sir, you gentlemen do flatter so:” and now our hero, pulling a table before them, requested Miss Lacecap to sit down upon the sofa, that they might with the more convenience look over the work together. On the sofa accordingly did our author and our critic sit. Miss pulled out two volumes, one of which our author opening, read the title page, which was as follows: “The Maze, of Marvels: or, the Loves of Carolino and Athalia.” “Very pretty soft names your hero and your heroine.” “I am happy to have your approbation, sir. I have an abstract of the plot written, sir.” Accordingly she produced a paper. “I have to observe, sir, that what put the plot in my head first, was reading a book called Ovid, I believe Dryden is the author, where there was a very pretty affecting story, called, ‘Pyramid and Thisby.’ I dare say you know the story?” “Yes, I recollect something of it.” “Now, sir, I think a great deal in a story is a pretty name.”