con; that their mistress should speak once more for herself; and they united their inventions, and indited the following card; which, as no time was to be lost, they multiplied for delivery by calling on every one who could guide a pen to copy and recopy. Miss Wilkes presents her compliments to and is very sorry that she cannot have the honour to receive him, her, or them, this evening, having had the misfortune to die at twelve o'clock. Grosvenor Square. THE PORTRAIT. I THINK that I may with truth say, that flattery is one of those pleasing things, which, though not always in the extreme, yet ever in the degree, gratifies every body. Every man and every woman has what is called a weak side: and on that weakness it is that flattery is administered by the skilful flatterer, and is always received by the flattered with complacency. Women are said to be more susceptible of flattery than men; but that, as a general position, I deny, although the story I am about to relate concerns a lady. Men are as often and as easily cajoled as women; and as frequently the dupes of those who have a point to carry against them. Be the persons played upon men or women they equally sympathize with the adulator, and rarely see through the flimsy veil of his praises: but when a bungler allows himself to be detected, it is like the citron trees said to grow near the deadsea, whose beautiful and tempting fruit yields nought but ashes to the taster. The praise of beauty is the most frequently resorted to, as being the perfection soonest discovered: and the glass, aided by self-love, generally corroborates all that can be said on the subject. Old age can hardly be brought to think it is no longer lovely. The battered beau and the faded belle continue to adorn their decay, and the ogle of the one, and the simper of the other, prove that adulation is still hugged to the heart. There is a story told of an old lady, who, in the days of her youth, had not only been the admiration of all beholders, but also the theme of the poet's lay. In the pride of beauty she had had a picture painted of her loveliness, and it hung for universal gaze over the mantle in the dining parlour. Years rolled over the original and the copy; but, alas! while the canvass still displayed all that could charm the eye, the withering form of the model daily became less and less like what represented her in the days which were gone for ever. Nevertheless, she still fancied that she resembled what she looked at; and nothing pleased her so much as to be told that the picture was like her. Among the visiters at the old lady's house was another old lady, who found it very agreeable and very convenient to be an always welcome guest at the well furnished board of a friend, and always repaid her hospitable reception by copious flattery. Among other things she never failed to observe while she sat at dinner, the great likeness of the hostess to the picture. It so happened, that in process of time, the smoke and the dust so changed the hue of the painting, that like the archetype it no longer bloomed. Although the rose and the lily had for ever flown from the living cheek of the matron, they were recoverable on the lifeless cloth; and to be cleaned, and newly varnished, it was sent to a master's hand. In the mean time, not to leave the mantle bare, the picture of a favourite cat was substituted for the absent portrait. The old lady who still continued her visits, declined, like her hostess, fast into the vale of years: like her's, her hair turned grey; like her's, her eyes grew dim: yet she continued to raise them, during the meal, to the chimney-piece; and looking, without discernment at poor puss, exclaimed in the ac |