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I have run on, and not thanked you for your letter and M. Mignet's beautiful eloge of Mr. Hallam, which pleased me greatly. I wish Englishmen could learn to speak with the same good taste and mesure. Mr. Wodehouse, who has been very civil to me, kindly tried to get me a passage home in a French frigate lying here, but in vain.

To the centenary FONTENELLE the Count DE TRESSAN was chiefly indebted for the happy life he derived from the cultivation of literature; and when this man of a hundred years died, TRESSAN, himself on the borders of the grave, would offer the last fruits of his mind in an éloge to his ancient master.

We have seen D'Alembert, ever since the year 1763, encouraging Bailly to exercise himself in a style of literary composition then much liked, the style of éloge, and holding out to him in prospect the situation of Perpetual Secretary of the Academy of Sciences. Six years after, the illustrious geometer gave the same advice, and perhaps held out the same hopes, to the young Marquis de Condorcet.

"Lady Frances wishes Lady C to be made acquainted with you; this is her night, and I therefore enclose you a card. As I dine at House, I shall have an opportunity of making your eloge before your arrival. Your's sincerely, "C. Roseville." I wonder, thought I, as I made my toilet, whether or not Lady Roseville is enamoured with her new correspondent?

Till Alcibiades ends the splendid eloge that Plato puts into his mouth with these words, "All my master's vice and stupidity and worship of wealthy and great men is counterfeit. It is all but the Silenus-mask which conceals the features of the god within; for if you remove the covering, how shall I describe to you, my friends and boon companions, the excellence of the beauty you will find within!

This circumstance would formerly have occupied a large place in the éloge of our learned colleague; thanks to the progress of enlightened ideas, I may mention the circumstance as a fact of no importance: nobody, in effect, thinks in the present day, nobody even pretends to think, that genius is the privilege of rank or fortune. Fourier became an orphan at the age of eight years.

Emily has left off writing to me; he wrote to me twice pour faire votre eloge, ce qui ne fut fort peu necessaire, and there was an end of his epistolary correspondence. Pray goad that Dean who slumbers in his stall, and make him write. . . . Of Gloucester.

A head looked in at the window, and the King greeted him, "Good evening, Monsieur; so busy?" Like a boy surprised in cribbing, the writer threw his papers into disorder, and drew half a sheet of Dutch vellum over them. "Yes, sire, I have just finished a poem to the Emperor Kian-Loung, which is an answer to his 'Eloge de Mukden." "To the Emperor of China! You have grander acquaintances than I."

Each writer was answerable for his own contribution, but he was in the position of a member of some learned corporation. To every volume, until the great crisis of 1759, was prefixed a list of those who had contributed to it. If a colleague died, the public was informed of the loss that the work had sustained, and his services were worthily commemorated in a formal éloge.

"Tu mens, canaille! C'est le meilleur éloge de M. Keene, que les marans comme toi, ne puissent le comprendre. Quand