Sir Ch ። Tytere tu patula recubans;" faith, 'tis more musical than fifty hand-organs.

Quiz. (Aside.) I had rather hear a Jews-harp.

Sir Ch. Talking of music, though-the Greek is the language for that.

Quiz. Truly is it.

Sir Ch. Even the conjugations of the verbs far excel the finest sonata of Pleyel or Handel. For instance," tupto, tupso, etupha." Can anything be more musical?

Quiz. Nothing. "Stoop low, stoop so, stoop too far."
Sir Ch. Ha! ha! ha! 66
Stoop too far!" That's a good

one.

Quiz. (Aside.) Faith, I have stooped too far. All's over now, by Jupiter!

Sir Ch. Ha! ha! ha! a plaguy good pun, Mr. Blackletter. Quiz. Tolerable. (Aside.) I am well out of that scrape, however.

Sir Ch. Pray, sir, which of the classics is your favorite? Quiz. Why, sir, Mr. Frederick Classic, I think he is so great a scholar.

Sir Ch. Po! po! you don't understand me. I mean, of the Latin classics do you admire most?

which

Quiz. Hang it! what shall I say now? (Aside.) The Latin classics? Oh, really, sir, I admire them all so much, it is difficult to say.

Sir Ch. Virgil is my favorite. How very expressive is his description of the unconquerable passion of Queen Dido where he says, "Hæret lateri lethalis arundo!" Is not that very expressive?

Quiz. Very expressive, indeed, sir. (Aside.) I wish wo were forty miles asunder. I shall never be able to hold out much longer, at this rate.

Sir Ch.

And Ovid is not without his charms.

Quiz. He is not, indeed, sir.

Sir Ch. And what a dear, enchanting fellow Horace is:

Quiz. Wonderfully so!

Sir Ch. Pray, what do you think of Xenophon?

Quiz. Who the plague is he, I wonder? (Aside.) Xenophon! Oh, think he unquestionably wrote good Latin, sir. Sir Ch. Good Latin, man!-he wrote Greek-good Greek, you meant.

Quiz. True, sir, I did. Latin, indeed! (In great confusion.) I meant Greek-did I say Latin? I really meant Greek. (Aside) Bless me! I don't know what I mean myself

Sir Ch. Oh! Mr. Blackletter, I have been trying a long time to remember the name of one of Achilles' horses, but I' can't for my life think of it. You doubtless can tell me.

Quiz. O yes, his name was—but which of them do you mean? What was he called?

Sir Ch. What was he called? Why, that's the very thing I wanted to know. The one I allude to was born of the Harpy' Celano. I can't, for the blood of me, tell it.

Quiz. (Aside.) Bless me! if I can either. (To him.) Born of the Harpy-oh! his name was-(striking his forehead.) Gracious! I forget it now. His name was-was-wasStrange! 'tis as familiar to me as my A, B, C.

Sir Ch. Oh! I remember-'twas Xanthus, Xanthus-I remember now-'twas Xanthus-plague o' the name !—that's it. Quiz. Egad! so 'tis. Thankus, Thankus"—that's it. Strange, I could not remember it! (Aside.) 'Twould have been stranger, if I had.

Sir Ch. You seem at times a little absent, Mr. Blackletter. Quiz. Dear me! I wish I was absent altogether. (Aside.) Sir Ch. We shall not disagree about learning, sir. I discover you are a man, not only of profound learning, but

correct taste.

Quiz. (Aside.) I am glad you have found that out, for I never should. I came here to quiz the old fellow, and he'll quiz me, I fear. (To him.) O, by the by, I have been so confused-I mean, so confounded-pshaw! so much engrossed with the contemplation of the Latin classics, I had almost forgotten to give you a letter from your son.

Sir Ch. Bless me, sir! why did you delay that pleasure so long?

Quiz. I beg pardon, sir; here 'tis. (Gives a letter.) Sir Ch. (Puts on his spectacles and reads.) "To Miss Clara." Quiz. No, no, no-that's not it here 'tis. (Takes the letter, and gives him another.)

Sir Ch. What

Mr. Blackletter?

are you the bearer of love epistles, too,

Quiz. (Aside.) What a horrid blunder! (To him.) Oh, no, sir: that letter is from a female cousin at a boarding school to Miss Clara Upright-no, Downright-that's the name. Sir Ch. Truly, she writes a good masculine fist. let me see what my boy has to say. (Reads.)

Well,

"Dear Father, There is a famous Greek manuscript just come to light. I must have it. The price is about a thousand dollars. Send me the money by the bearer."

Short and sweet. There's a letter for you, in the true Lacedæmonian style-laconic. Well, the boy shall have it, were it ten times as much. I should like to see this Greek manuscript. Pray, sir, did you ever see it?

Quiz. I can't say I ever did, sir. (Aside.) This is the only truth I have been able to edge in yet.

Sir Ch. I'll just send to my bankers for the money. In the meantime, we will adjourn to my library. I have been much puzzled with an obscure passage in Livy. We must lay our heads together for a solution. But I am sorry you are addicted to such absence of mind, at times.

Quiz. 'Tis a misfortune, sir; but I am addicted to a greater than that, at times.

Quiz. I am sometimes addicted to an absence of body.
Sir Ch.

As how?

Quiz. Why, thus, sir. (Takes up his hat and stick, and walks off)

Sir Ch. Ha ha ha! that's an absence of body, sure enough—an absence of body with a vengeance! A very merry fellow this. He will be back for the money, I suppose, presently. He is, at all events, a very modest man, not fond of expressing his opinion-but that's a mark of merit.

PAIR'D, NOT MATCH'D.-HOOD.

I cannot make a song of it; To always have the wrong of it;

And that's the short and long And that's the short and long

And I'm but Aide-de-camp Or fork, and dart the prong

And that's the short and long And that's the short and long

Characters.-SWIPES, a brewer; CURRIE, a saddler; FRANK MILLINGTON, and 'SQUIRE DRAWL.

Swipes. (pl.) A sober occasion this, brother Currie. Who would have thought the old lady was so near her end?

Currie. Ah! we must all die, brother Swipes; and those who live longest, outlive the most.

Swipes. True, true; but since we must die, and leave our earthly possessions, it is well that the law takes such good care of us. Had the old lady her senses when she departed?

Currie. Perfectly, perfectly. 'Squire Drawl told me she read every word of the will aloud, and never signed her name better.

Swipes. Had you any hint from the 'Squire, what disposition she made of her property?

Currie. Not a whisper; the 'Squire is as close as an underground tomb; but one of the witnesses hinted to me, that she had cut off her graceless nephew, Frank, without a shilling.

Swipes. Has she, good soul, has she? You know I come in, then, in right of my wife.

Currie. And I in my own right; and this is, no doubt, the reason why we have been called to hear the reading of the will. 'Squire Drawl knows how things should be done, though he is as air-tight as one of your beer-barrels. But here comes the young reprobate. He must be present, as a matter of course, you know. [Enter FRANK MILLINGTON.] Your servant, young gentleman. So your benefactress has left you, at last?