_Petulant._ If he says black's black,—if I have a humour to say it is blue—let that pass. All's one for that. If I have a humour to prove it, it must be granted. _Witwould._ Not positively must,—But it may, it may. _Petulant._ Yes, it positively must,—upon proof positive. _Witwould._ Ay, upon proof positive it must; but upon proof presumptive it only may. That's a logical distinction now. CONGREVE. “In the _ignotum pro magnifico_,” says Umbra “resides a humble individual's best chance of being noticed or attended to at all.” Yet many are the attempts which have been made, and are making, in America too as well in Great Britain by Critics, Critickins and Criticasters, (for there are of all degrees,) to take from me the _Ignotum_, and force upon me the _Magnificum_ in its stead, to prove that I am not the humble, and happily unknown disciple, friend, and however unworthy, memorialist of Dr. Dove, a nameless individual as regards the public, holding the tenour of my noiseless way contentedly towards that oblivion which sooner or later must be the portion of us all; but that I am what is called a public character, a performer upon the great stage, whom every one is privileged to hiss or to applaud; myself a Doctor, L.L.D. according to the old form, according to the present usage D.C.L.—a Doctor upon whom that triliteral dignity was conferred in full theatre amid thundering peals of applauding hands, and who heard himself addressed that day in Phillimorean voice and fluent latinity by all eulogistic epithets ending in _issimus_ or _errimus_. I an _issimus_!—I an _errimus_! No other _issimus_ than that _Ipsissimus ego_ which by these critics I am denied to be. These critics will have it that I am among living authors what the ever memorable Countess of Henneberg was among women; that I have more tails to my name than the greatest Bashaw bears among his standards, or the largest cuttle fish to his headless body or bodyless head; that I have executed works more durable than brass, and loftier than the Pyramids, and that I have touched the stars with my sublime forehead,—what could have saved my poor head from being moonstruck if I had.