When he has absorbed all the moisture his victims are able to supply, he may be seen walking about in moody solitude in the parks, where he sponges upon the ducks, and owes for the use of the chairs. In this dry and destitute condition, behold the sponge of the Covent-Garden Comedy--_Captain Tarradiddle_. He is in St. James' Park; for, possessing imaginary rather than substantial claims to military rank, he flits about the Horse-Guards to keep up his character. A person is already upon the stage, for whom you instinctively shudder--you perceive, at once, that he is "in" for dinner, wine, theatre, and supper--you pity him; you see the sponge, speciously, but surely, fasten himself upon his victim like a vampire. _Mr. Pye Hilary_, being a barrister and a man of the world, resigns himself, however, to his fate. As to shaking off his leech, he knows that to be impossible; and he determines to make what use of him he can. There is a fine opportunity, for _Mr. Pye Hilary_ is in love, in despair, and in waiting: he expects his mistress's abigail; in negociating with whom, he conceives _Tarradiddle_ will be a valuable assistant. _Mrs. Tattle_ arrives. Preliminaries having been duly settled, articles offensive and defensive are entered into, to carry out a plan by which the lover shall gain an interview with the mistress; and the treaty is ratified by a liberal donation, which the _Captain_ makes to the maid out of his friend's purse. The servant is satisfied, and goes off in the utmost agitation, for _Miss Mayley_ and her guardian are coming; and she dreads being caught in the fact of bribery. _Mr. Hilary_ trembles; so does the young lady, when she appears; and the agitation of all parties is only put an end to by the fall of the act-drop.