unsuccessful piece yet, but its author attributed his disappointment to the caprice, injustice, or ignorance, of the public. A person of my acquaintance, (not fifty miles from Boston) was (I am told,) so vain of a pair of spindleshanks belonging to him, (you have seen the man;-he dines down stairs now and then,) that he imagined, they (his broom sticks) would, at any time, insure him the love, admiration, and constant friendship, of any woman who might be under an impulse to try what wedlock was like. Yet, after having received no less than five—(five!) rejections, from as many different ladies,-the worthy citizen indulged in a thousand sarcasms and invectives against THE SEX, for their blindness, want of taste, and obstinacy,-while he took his two woodenlooking props into greater favor than ever!

WARING.

As a matter of course. But there is somebody at the door. "Who knocks so loud?" You may come in. Captain Parkenrath! By all that's

[Enter Captain Parkenrath.]

PARKENRATH.

What? Why,-you-you-you tumbled-pil

low lovers! You hermits in bed-clothes!-You would keep the Morning asleep-and the Sun, locked up in his moist cabinet.

WALSINGHAM.

I beg your pardon; we would do no such thing. If the Sun, and the Morning, prefer early rising, let them get up. I have no wish to keep them in their bed-chambers.

WARING.

The Captain rises before the Sun.

PARKENRATH.

To be sure, I go out to meet my sweet-breathed mistress, the Morning. "You drown yourselves in inofficious sleep." But, while you have been, lazily and listlessly, dreaming away your time, I have been putting on paper, the heads of that story which interested you so much last night.

WALSINGHAM.

A thousand thanks !-You write an excellent hand. Oh, this is admirable!

PARKENRATH.

Ha, ha! As Burke says-" You are the lion; I

have been endeavoring to prog for you." You may make what use you please of it. Only if you print, send me a copy.

WALSINGHAM.

If I print -agreed;-and now to breakfast.

PARKENRATH.

Mark me!-It is a TRUE STORY.

EXEUNT OMNES.

Note. I am indebted to Mr. Walsingham for a copy

of the following tale.

C. S.

CAPTAIN PARKENRATH'S STORY.

THE LAST DOLLAR.

"Like an old tale, which will have matter to rehearse, though credit be asleep, and not an ear open."

Winter's Tale.

"It is nothing to bear the privations of adversity, or more properly, ill-fortune; but my pride recoils from its INDIG

NITIES."

Byron.

E

VOL. I.