W. Hazlitt is in town. I took him to see a very pretty girl professedly, where there were two young girls—the very head and sum of the girlery was two young girls —they neither laughed nor sneered nor giggled nor whispered—but they were young girls—and he sat and frowned blacker and blacker, indignant that there should be such things as youth and beauty, till he tore me away before supper in perfect misery, and owned he could not bear young girls; they drove him mad.