and afterwards several insipid jokes passed and repassed, with false reports, false reasonings, a little politics, and a great deal of scandal. The conversation then turned upon the new productions in literature.

“Pray,” said the abbe, “good folks, have you seen the romance written by a certain Gauchat, Doctor of Divinity?”

“Yes,” answered one of the company, “but I had not patience to go through it. The town is pestered with a swarm of impertinent productions, but this of Dr. Gauchat's outdoes them all. In short, I was so cursedly tired of reading this vile stuff that I even resolved to come here, and make a party at basset.”

“But what say you to the archdeacon T-'s miscellaneous collection,” said the abbe.