Armstrong would not believe me till I showed him the receipt. _Au reste_, Quintin is the man to whom somebody is said to have remarked, observing that he wore the wrist-bands of his shirt-sleeves so fashionably low as to pass his knuckles, "I am sorry, Mr. Dick, to see that you have so much linen on hand." It strikes me however, that this must be a joke of a hundred years old. No matter. He came this evening to ask us three sisters, as well as Julia and Mrs. Armstrong, to dine with him on the approaching Saturday. "Who are your men?" I asked. "Lords Hertford and Alvanly, the Hon. J. Ward, Nugent, Luttrell, and another man or two, whose names I have forgotten," Dick replied. We all accepted his invitation on account of his party. For himself, he was a man of very few words. In fact, he scarcely ever spoke at all; and when he did he attempted to be satirical; but his were the very worst attempts I ever heard. Montagu, the relation of the lady in Gloucester Place, of chimney-sweeping notoriety, assisted to keep up the spirit of the dance. Ward walked about, repeating Greek and Latin verses to himself as usual. He made love to Amy and Fanny alternately. I once knew a mistress of his, nay two! Perhaps I may tell you what sort of a character they gave him some other time. Napier came sneaking and grinning into the room, and informed us that either Lord Bath or Lord Bathurst, I forget which, was bringing him into parliament. "More shame for you, who ought not to have given up your independence for millions," said I. "You cannot now vote against the man who gives you a seat." Napier showed his teeth, merely observing, "You have such a comical way of talking to one." Lord Fife now came sailing up the room, and all the women immediately made up to him. "My lord," said one, "have you spoken to the manager about bringing my young friend out at the opera house this season?" "Yes, yes," said Fife, nodding his head, "I saw him to-day; he expects her. When you take her to him, send in my card and he will receive you well." "Dear Lord Fife," said another, "we want to go to Elliston's masquerade." "Certainly, certainly, to be sure," answered the good-natured Fife, still nodding assent, "I will send you tickets to-morrow." "And I," said Amy, "want a box at Covent Garden on Monday." "To be sure, to be sure," still continued the promising earl. "Lord Fife," said I, "Sir Harcourt Lees wants to shoot grouse this season, on your estate in the North." "To be sure, tell me when he goes, and I'll give him a letter to my brother." "I know an excellent old Frenchwoman," said Mrs. Armstrong, "who wants you to buy a watch of hers." "Let her come to me in the morning, to be sure! to be sure!" I could not help laughing at Lord Fife. "Why what a good-natured man you are," said I.