Observe that the whole of this nice process of dissolving former associations is carried on without one angry or offensive word being said on either side--without the slightest approach to an overt act of hostility; you, particularly, being as bland as ever. The whole is effected by look and manner alone. To the gentleman who is rising in the world there are few things more offensive than the familiarity of old acquaintanceship when presented in the shape of notes and letters. Your old friends, still obstinately overlooking your advancement in the world, will in all probability continue to write to you when they have occasion to do so, in the free-and-easy way of former days. They will even sometimes so far forget themselves and you as to address you in a jocular strain. This must be instantly put down. Do it by brief and grave replies; take no notice of their jokes, and never attempt an approach to one in return. This in time will cure them: if not, you must have recourse to stronger measures. You must either not answer at all, or administer some decided dampers. Should any of your former friends seek your patronage--a very probable case--take an early opportunity, while doing him some trifling service, of letting him feel sensibly your relative positions, all the while, however, exhibiting towards him the most friendly dispositions. But let him ever and anon feel the bit gently--let him feel that he has got somebody on his back. Begin as soon as possible to lecture him in a gentle way--all for his own good of course. Your character of patron gives you a right to do this; and under this guise you can say the most cutting things to him without affording him the slightest ground for complaint. Under this guise you can address the most insulting language to him, and defy him to take it amiss. If he should, however, you can without any difficulty prove him to be one of the most ungrateful monsters that ever lived. You were doing all you could for him, and when you ventured to _advise_ him--having nothing but his own good at heart--he chose to take offence at you, and to resent the friendly advice you gave him. Such an ungrateful dog! As few men can stand such treatment as that above alluded to long, we can venture to promise you that by a steady course of proceeding in the way we have pointed out, you will soon clear your hands of your old friends. C. THE DIVORCED,[1] A TRANSLATION FROM THE MOLDAVIAN. “Ah! what a fatal gift from Heaven is a too sensitive heart!”--ROUSSEAU.