Sen. Alas, it would!—and, on the same cruel account, I will sink the insulting ceremony of wishing you-a good morning. Let me rather

say,

"Go; count thy way with sighs,-I mine with GROANS." Shak.

Tes. Aye, it may pass well enough as a quotation; otherwise, by rights, you should have taken the sighs, and given me the groans. -And so, your humble servant.-(Goes, and returns.) Ho! Sensitive! Sensitive!-You know my addle-head :-one thing I forgot;if we are to meet upon this new scheme of ours, there is a third person who must positively be of the party; or else, we must be "off by consent," as the jockies say. Why, you must know that I have just called away my łubberly boy Ned from Eton, at an hour's notice, tho' he had but another month to stay, as it was. For what do you think?Old Busby, there, (I forget the fellow's right name-the head pedagogue, however—) has thought proper to tell me that my boy is half mad! tho', for all I can see, the whole offence

is that he is a little wild, or so, in his way of reading; and, by running from one book to another, and dashing from this part of the volume to that, has stuffed his head with more words than he knows well how to manage; and so, by dint of a good memory, without quite brains enough to ballast it, he flirts out his crude scraps of authors upon all occasions? without stopping to think where he is, or who are his hearers.

Sen. A singular propensity, it must be owned.

Tes. Yes, but singularity is not madness, I hope, or I should be in the same scrape, myself; for, as to his quoting fits, he drew them from me, I believe; I have had them upon me, off and on, ever since I was thus high; and Ned, the impudent dog, dares to tell me that he brings in his Parallels, as he calls them, as much to the purpose as I do. Be this as it may, I wink at his cacoethes quotandi;-but, to cure him of a few other wild tricks, which I don't like quite so well, I shall finish off his education myself; and have,

this very morning, taken an oath, that I won't trust him out of my sight, a single moment, for three years to come. So, you see, if you

can put up with Ned's company, and odd ways, why, I shall be very ready to meet you, that's all-what say you?

Sen. O pray, be under no anxiety about me, Mr. Testy; the company of a son of yours, Sir, cannot possibly distress me; and, with respect to his turn for quotation, it may serve to beguile our attention, occasionally, from the sorrows which we shall be occupied with detailing. Besides, I am, at certain times, by no means, uninfected with the mania, myself. With my best respects to Mr. Edward Testy, then, your most obedient.

DIALOGUE THE SECOND.

"Hinc exaudiri Gemitus!"-Vir.

MISERIES OF THE COUNTRY.

Testy, Senior, and Junior-Sensitive.

Sensitive.

WELL, Mr. Testy; here I am, as punctual as a lover to our wretched assignation, and little doubting that you have found the country quite as fertile in felicities as I have:What, my dear Sir, is the result of your

rambles?

Tes. What?--Why, that I shall, henceforth, leave to Mrs. C. Smith, the whole honour and pleasure of trying" Rambles farther:"-" O rus! quando te aspiciam?" indeed!—Why, never again, I answer, as long as I live—and

that won't be long, I guess, if I continue to rusticate much longer-notwithstanding the "toughness of my texture," upon which you were once pleased to compliment me.—And, pray, what have you done?-or rather, what have you suffered?-tho' it does not much matter which I say; for," miserable, doing, or suffering," seems to be our standing motto.

Sen. My melancholy memoranda will but too fully answer your question ;-for, in pursuance of the plan mutually agreed upon, I have, in every instance, faithfully committed to paper the passing perplexity of the

moment.

Tes. And I.-What have we to do, then, but to produce our memorabilia at once, and proceed to exchange their contents?

Come, then! I know you'll excuse iny natural impetuosity, if I crave permission to begin.

Sen. Willingly, Sir; both on the ground you mention, and because I may thereby enjoy (enjoy!) a moment's respite from the lashes of memory.