Oh, that our pen could write strongly as our heart feels against those villanous, viper-souled, low-minded, merciless reptiles, who, from motives too grovelling and dirty to be analyzed, impertinently by their ill-digested calumnies, mutilate and mangle the fairest reputation, and sully the purest characters. Never can such vermin be sufficiently punished or adequately vituperated, for they are absolutely incapable of feeling such racking mental agonies as they inflict on others. What could such a heartless puppy as Zephaniah Pringle feel of mental and heart-rending agony, compared with that which Robert Darnley experienced, when he had reason to think that the high-minded, clear-souled Penelope, whom he had loved for her purity, her moral as well as personal beauty, had so far forgotten all good feelings and all high thoughts as to sink down into a character for which refined language has no name? The baronet's table was splendidly covered, and the guests were as well pleased in demolishing as the cook had been in constructing and compiling the various specimens of culinary art. Sir George Aimwell paid, as was proper, especial attention to Robert Darnley, and endeavoured to draw the young man into conversation, or, more properly speaking, to provoke him into narrative. To such questions as were asked he gave an ample and intelligent answer, but he proceeded no further; he did not seem desirous to obtrude himself upon the attention of the company. Table-talk was by no means the forte of the worthy baronet; but when he had a party he generally exerted himself: and as he was very well aware that, in his own proper person, and from his own peculiar stores, he was by no means a man of talk, he very considerately endeavoured to set in motion other tongues than his own. On the present occasion he thought, that as Mr Robert Darnley had been long abroad, he would most likely be best able to entertain the guests. But when the hospitable host observed how very slowly and reluctantly the young man brought out the stores of his information, he next directed his attention to Zephaniah Pringle, who was not so reserved. He spoke fluently, and readily, and oracularly. Sir George, though not a man of letters, was ready enough to indulge his guests, or to suffer them, if they would, to indulge themselves, with literary conversation; and it was a great happiness to Zephaniah Pringle to let the inhabitants of Smatterton and Neverden know how great a man was in their company. Yet there was a little abatement from the purity and intensity of that enjoyment, in the observing how inapt they seemed to be in comprehending which were the first publications of the day, and which were productions of inferior note. Some of the party asked strange things about reviews and magazines, and Zephaniah was astonished that there should be in any part of Great Britain such complete, total darkness, and intellectual neglect, as that his own peculiar periodical should be altogether