herself. It is necessary to give a sketch of this Lady's character. Mrs. Chartres was one of those persons to whom time is a burden, which, without the assistance of cards, would be insupportable. She considered whist as the first end of existence, and the sole pleasure of society; for she thought conversation the dullest occupation in the world; and, although she knew there was such a term as friendship, her feelings did not convey much force to its meaning. Yet, she was not insensible of some preference towards those who gave her the best dinners. A present of a brace of woodcocks, of which she was remarkably fond, would also secure her partial regard, and a young hare never failed to win her heart. With too little sensibility to feel her own deficiencies, and too little discernment to perceive when she was treated with contempt, Mrs. Chartres could bear neglect without mortification, and derision without resentment. She was perfectly satisfied with being admitted into company, as one who helped to make up the necessary number at a whist table, and to act a part, which an automaton, with a very little farther improvement in mechanism, could have performed as well. It was fortunate for Mrs. Chartres, that she was not difficult in her choice of society, or rigorous in her demands of attention and respect; for she found solitude the most insupportable of all evils. Her mind resembled an empty mirror, which has no character, no images of its own, borrows every impression from some passing object, and, if left to itself, would for ever remain vacant. Mrs. Chartres delighted in new acquaintances; for, in proportion as she was known, she generally found people's civilities decline. But this never gave her any uneasiness, because she contrived, with great ease, to provide herself with a succession of new visitors. She kept a pack of visiting tickets in her pocket-book, and, wherever she went, distributed them liberally to any strangers who were near her, or with whom she happened to play at cards. By these means her acquaintance was numerous, though not very select; but she comprehended so little the difference between one person and another, if they were equally well dressed, that she would only have been puzzled and perplexed by a greater power of choice. Whenever Mrs. Chartres was disengaged, she was sick, and passed the day in bed; but, when she was fashionably dressed, quite secure of a good dinner, and an evening party at cards, she felt the charm of existence,