458 Notes of the Month on [OCT. 



might all be safely trusted to the imagination of the machine, which we 

 have no doubt would do its duty, and transmit to the laughing universe 

 the whole eloquence of those flying philosophers, without losing the 

 slightest effluvium of its original genius, intelligence, utility, or 

 wisdom. 



Poor Lord Ellenborough's misfortunes are not over yet. We 

 acknowledge that he bears them with the best face of insensibility, of 

 arxy unlucky husband in town ; and when his hat is on, what with his 

 ringlets, and his roses, he contrives to look a gay youth of fifty. But 

 Miss Digby, the portentous Miss Digby, has started again for fame, 

 and divides with his lordship the admiration of the lower classes. 



" THE FAIR JANETTE. We have heard that Miss Digby (late Lady 

 Ellenborough) has recently purchased a cottage ornee in the neighbour- 

 hood of the Regent's-park. The fair divorcee may continually be seen 

 thereabouts. She is attired in deep mourning, and accompanied by a 

 beautiful little boy of about five years of age, whom she has adopted as 

 a solace in her retirement. A ' good-natured friend/ on mentioning 

 this circumstance to ' the tame elephant/ begged his lordship to console 

 himself, for that wherever he resided he was sure to have a cottage 

 hornce of his own." 



Such is the remark of the newspapers, inspired by the spirit of 

 Rogers, or Alvanly, or some of the standards of pleasantry in our 

 vivacious world. The lady has returned, to new conquests, of course ; 

 and her card is now the sentimental. The mourning, the orphan 

 protegee, the deep melancholy, the cottage, exquisitely simple, with a 

 sensitive-plant in front, a cage with a turtle-dove mourning for its mate, 

 a guitar hanging in sight, and the fair undone herself, the victim of a 

 too ardent sensibility, the modern Eloise, sad as night, and dark as the 

 hopes of buried love ; the drooping flower, that perishes before the eye, 

 and is dying under the cruel aspersions of an ungenerous generation ; 

 Heavens ! how irresistible must Miss Digby be under all this weight of 

 woe ! We caution that notorious sentimentalist, Lord Hertford, from 

 walking round his own grounds, for fear of being suddenly captivated 

 " shot i' the heart," as Mercutio says, " by a white wench's black 

 eye." He might have added in a black veil and bonnet, which must 

 make the wound mortal. 



It must be allowed that the French do showy things in the most 

 showy style of any nation of Europe. One of their old merits was the 

 patronage of Literature. From Louis the Fourteenth 'down to 

 Napoleon, they had the honourable ambition of struggling for the 

 precedence in every class of literary fame ; and the allowable dexterity 

 of flattering the leading writers of all countries into a regard for 

 France. They gave little distinctions, little medals, little pensions, 

 and little titles to the little men of academies in all lands, and reaped the 

 full harvest of those donations in praise. 



The Russians, always imitators of the Grande Nation, and extremely 

 anxious to play the same part on the continent, whether with the pen or 

 the pike, the cannon or the cordon rouge; have been for some years 

 trying the same plan, and giving rings, like thimbles, set with diamonds 

 that certainly have a villainous likeness to Bristol stones ; but those 

 rings were given to all sorts of people for all sorts of things : for a new 



