MR CAXTON, thrusting his hand into his waistcoat, and in his most didactic of tones.--"From a remote period, the choice of a title has perplexed the scribbling portion of mankind. We may guess how their invention has been racked by the strange contortions it has produced. To begin with the Hebrews. 'The Lips of the Sleeping,' (_Labia Dormientium_)--what book do you suppose that title to designate?--A Catalogue of Rabbinical writers! Again, imagine some young lady of old captivated by the sentimental title of 'The Pomegranate with its Flower,' and opening on a treatise on the Jewish Ceremonials! Let us turn to the Romans. Aulus Gellius commences his pleasant gossiping 'Noctes' with a list of the titles in fashion in his day. For instance, '_The Muses_' and '_The Veil_,' '_The Cornucopia_,' '_The Beehive_,' and '_The Meadow_.' Some titles, indeed, were more truculent, and promised food to those who love to sup upon horrors--such as '_The Torch_,' '_The Poniard_,' '_The Stiletto_'--" PISISTRATUS, impatiently.--"Yes, sir; but to come to My Novel." MR CAXTON, unheeding the interruption.--"You see, you have a fine choice here, and of a nature pleasing, and not unfamiliar to a classical reader; or you may borrow a hint from the early Dramatic Writers." PISISTRATUS, more hopefully.--"Ay! there is something in the Drama akin to the Novel. Now, perhaps, I may catch an idea." MR CAXTON.--"For instance, the author of the _Curiosities of Literature_ (from whom, by the way, I am plagiarising much of the information I bestow upon you) tells us of a Spanish gentleman who wrote a Comedy, by which he intended to serve what he took for Moral Philosophy." PISISTRATUS, eagerly.--"Well, sir?" MR CAXTON.--"And called it 'The Pain of the Sleep of the World.'" PISISTRATUS.--"Very comic indeed, sir." MR CAXTON.--"Grave things were then called Comedies, as old things are now called Novels. Then there are all the titles of early Romance itself at your disposal--'Theagenes and Chariclea,' or 'The Ass' of Longus, or 'The Golden Ass' of Apuleius, or the titles of Gothic Romance, such as 'The most elegant, delicious, mellifluous, and delightful History of Perceforest, King of Great Britain,'"--And therewith my father ran over a list of names as long as the Directory, and about as amusing. "Well, to my taste," said my mother, "the novels I used to read when a girl, (for I have not read many since, I am ashamed to say,)--" MR CAXTON.--"No, you need not be at all ashamed of it, Kitty." MY MOTHER, proceeding.--"Were much more inviting than any you mention, Austin." THE CAPTAIN.--"True." MR SQUILLS.--"Certainly. Nothing like them now-a-days!" MY MOTHER.--"'_Says she to her Neighbour, What?_'" THE CAPTAIN.--"'_The Unknown, or the Northern Gallery_'--" MR SQUILLS.--"'_There is a Secret; Find it Out!_'"