The visit of a guest, if not of greater consequence at least of greater interest than any who had hitherto honoured my uncle, was announced.

Even the young Count, with the most imposing air in the world and the finest eyes, was forgotten by everybody but the Duchess of Lackland and her daughters, who had just returned to Devereux Court to observe how amazingly the Count had grown! Oh! what a prodigy wisdom would be, if it were but blest with a memory as keen and constant as that of interest! Struck with the universal excitement, I went to my uncle to inquire the name of the expected guest.

My uncle was occupied in fanning the Lady Hasselton, a daughter of one of King Charles's Beauties.

He had only time to answer me literally, and without comment; the guest's name was Mr.St.John.
I had never conned the "Flying Post," and I knew nothing about politics.
"Who is Mr.St.John ?" said I; my uncle had renewed the office of a zephyr.

The daughter of the Beauty heard and answered, "The most charming person in England." I bowed and turned away.