light incision.

"A row the other night, about a lady of the place, between her
various lovers, occasioned a midnight discharge of pistols, but
nobody wounded. Great scandal, however--planted by her lover--_to
be_ thrashed by her husband, for inconstancy to her regular
Servente, who is coming home post about it, and she herself retired
in confusion into the country, although it is the acme of the opera
season. All the women furious against her (she herself having been
censorious) for being _found out_. She is a pretty woman--a
Countess * * * *--a fine old Visigoth name, or Ostrogoth.

"The Greeks! what think you? They are my old acquaintances--but
what to think I know not. Let us hope howsomever.

"Yours,

"B."

[Footnote 39: In their eagerness, like true controversialists, to avail
themselves of every passing advantage, and convert even straws into
weapons on an emergency, my two friends, during their short warfare,
contrived to place me in that sort of embarrassing position, the most
provoking feature of which is, that it excites more amusement than
sympathy. On the one side, Mr. Bowles chose to cite, as a support to his
argument, a short fragment of a note, addressed to him, as be stated, by
"a gentleman of the highest literary," &c. &c., and saying, in reference
to Mr. Bowles's former pamphlet, "You have hit the right nail on the
head, and * * * * too." This short scrap was signed with four asterisks;
and when, on the appearance of Mr. Bowles's Letter, I met with it in his
pages, not the slightest suspicion ever crossed my mind that I had been
myself the writer of it;--my communications with my reverend friend and
neighbour having been (for years, I am proud to say) sufficiently
frequent to allow of such a hasty compliment to his disputative powers
passing from my memory. When Lord Byron took the field against Mr.
Bowles's Letter, this unlucky scrap, so authoritatively brought forward,
was, of course, too tempting a mark for his facetiousness to be
resisted; more especially as the person mentioned in it, as having
suffered from the reverend critic's vigour, appeared, from the number of
asterisks employed in designating him, to have been Pope himself,
though, in reality, the name was that of Mr. Bowles's former antagonist,
Mr. Campbell. The noble assailant, it is needless to say, made the most
of this vulnerable point; and few readers could have be