It is the second genus, however, which calls forth all your powers; the first is, in fact, a matter of course, and nothing more than a kind of conciliatory introduction to the second. Some little skill is perhaps necessary, in order not to yield too clumsily, for a clumsy compliment is far worse than nothing. The blindest dolt will soon be palled by a repetition of "You don't say so !" "Good heavens!" "How wonderful!" wound up, perhaps, by, "But then you are so clever!" The greatest fool must soon be tired of a fellow who roars out a horselaugh at the wrong part of a good story; compliments a hypochondriac on his good looks, and pays his court to a lady of“ a certain age," by remarking how well she

wears.

The first, easiest, and most obvious branch of the colloquial kind, is flattery direct, as when you tell Miss how beautifully she played that last air; or remark, with what extraordinary skill Dowager managed to gain the odd trick. This, however, is so very easy, that it is almost worn out; so that, however high you may carry your panegyric, you will scarcely get any thing by it, as there is always somebody ready to out-lie you.

The second is the oblique, which is not quite so thread-bare as the first, and certainly has a most insinuating way about it, and a wonderfully disinterested appearance withal. A student in this line will, in company with a miser, lay great stress on precise economy; revile generosity of any kind as impiously throwing away the gifts of Providence; swear, that if he had a son, whom he suspected of spending sixpence a-year

more than was necessary, he would cut him off with a shilling. He will relate, with the highest encomiums and the most extravagant enthusiasm, an anecdote of the very man to whom he is speaking, and, finally, will draw the gull's character, or what he, blind and miserable wretch, conceives to be such; and declare that he considers that, as all that can be desirable for a friend or acquaintance.

The third, I shall adopt another person's expression in calling the argumentative flattery: which is, the talent of entering into a discussion with your flatté, and suffering yourself gradually to be convinced by his arguments; of course your apostacy must not be too rapid, and it is necessary to say something, in order to give your opponent an opportunity for refuting it. This serves the two purposes, first, of impressing him with a good opinion of his own oratorical talents, and thus bringing him into a good humour; and secondly, of displaying your good sense in appreciating his powers, and your candour in yielding to them.

The fourth, or deferential kind, operates most readily on persons of the busy-body and Lady Bountiful cha racter. This consists in asking your friend's opinion on every subject, however trifling; listening to it with the greatest possible respect; expressing your unfeigned admiration of the same, and exclaiming at your happiness in having received it, and your pleasure in following it. Mem. Always to reserve to yourself the privilege of not acting up to your promise, in case the advice be bad.

The last that I shall name, the comparative flattery, is a powerful auxiliary of the oblique; though I hardly

know whether that ought to rank as flattery, which chiefly consists in depreciating others. For instance, in company with a blue you must blame the superficial studies of the present age, and contrast the solid acquirements of Hebrew, Chaldaic, Chinese, Arabic, and Kamschatchan, with the flimsy accomplishments now in vogue; and compare the mind of a modern Miss to the froth on the top of a trifle, which, on tasting, melts to nothing, and the other's fathomless stores of knowledge to the depth, solidity, and sweetness of the cream at the bottom. Unhappy he, who is delighted with the despicable and trivial pursuits of music, dancing, &c.

"Olli cæruleus supra caput astitit imber. "

The blue will soon burst on him in a furious volley of argument and learning.

And now, Mr. Bouverie, I take my leave, hoping that what I have said may perchance profit some junior professor of the art; and believe me,

Sir,

Ever yours,

MACSYCOPHANT.

P. S. If at any time you should be in want of a puff,

or a panegyrical advertisement, I am your man.

MY MISTRESS.

IN IMITATION OF ANACREON.

Master of the graphic art,

Paint the mistress of my heart;

Paint her, if thy pencil can,
Less a woman than a man ;
Seek not model true to find,
In the rest of woman-kind ;
Figure to thy mental view,
The ne plus ultra of a shrew;
Paint thy utmost skill to try,
The matchless rancour of her eye,
Paint her angry light that flashes,
From the cloud of sable lashes;
Paint a brow the eye-lids crowning,
Furrow'd with eternal frowning;
Paint in part and whole the organ,
Such as would become a Gorgon;
Then with hair the temples rig,
Snaky as Medusa's wig.
Draw her face distent with fury,
To which Xantippe was an Houri;
Colour not her face with pink,
But mingle violet with ink;
Paint for her complexion's hue,
Blended tints of black and blue;
Paint with India's reddest drug,
Nose sarcastically pug;

Lips that grin with fury keener
Than the never-tam'd hyena ;
Draw with outline free and bold,
Form of Amazonian mould;
Strong and sturdy as Thalestris,
Active and alert as Vestris ;

Quick and strong in vengeful mood,
Slow and weak in doing good;
Paint her dress a torn capote,
Once 'twas muslin, but 'tis not.
On her wrist a cambric ruffle,
Torn in matrimonial scuffle;
Gown and bodice that display,
Signs of yesterday's affray;
But if thy art delights in scandal,
Paint her with a golden sandal,

In dress for queen of Lydia meet,
And me Alcides at her feet :
Or paint me as the Attic sage,
And her Xantippe in a rage ;
While, after rain from pitcher flung,
He bides the thunder of her tongue ;
And more and more she growls unruly,
To see her husband take it coolly.

Master of the graphic art,

Well hast thou perform'd thy part;
Lo, I see the fury rise,

I see it sparkle in her eyes :

She seems with inward rancour stung,
And venom rankles on her tongue-
Hold! audacious artist, hold!
Soon the canvas' self will scold.

THE TERRACE.

If music's voice can make the mournful gay,
And charm, enchantress-like, our cares away,
Sure ne'er had grief such cause as now to fly,
To seek a gloomier, more congenial sky.
The radiant sun hath set; with martial sounds,
Thy Castle, Windsor, Britain's pride, resounds;
All ranks, all ages, to the scene repair,
To strut an hour away, and banish care.
"Tis not for me-I cannot, will not, tell,
Who ranks the smartest beau, the fairest belle
For all too well can please-too well all know
Their power, nor want the will t'inflict the blow.
Unwonted lustre boots and eyes acquire-
One shines with blacking, one with Cupid's fire;
Red coats resistless steal each lady's heart,
The sons of Mars are proud such charms t'impart;
Each with the other pleas'd, conspire to show
What music, mirth, and officers, can do.