tion, nor do I quite hold with those who only put my gardener's belief into different words, 'that learning and good roads will ruin the kingdom.'"
Lady Mandeville.—"One of the manias of the present day, which especially excites my spleen, is the locomotive rage which seems to possess all ranks—that necessity of going out of town in the summer—people, for example, in the middle classes, who have a comfortable and well-furnished house—to live in some small cottage or miserable lodgings, the chief of whose recommendation seems to be, that they are either damp or windy; they give up regular habits and comforts, an innovation on the least of which would have occasioned a fortnight's grumbling at any other time; but now 'the lady's health required change of air,' or 'it would do the children so much good.'"
Edward Lorraine.—"You have forgotten the genteel sound of 'we passed the summer at Worthing,' or 'the autumn at Hastings.'"
Mr. Morland.—"Nothing appears to me so absurd as placing our happiness in the opinion others entertain of our enjoyments, not in our own sense of them. The fear of being thought
