volume of his history, and hoped he might be permitted to name _the British Roscius_, the pride of his country, and all that sort of thing.' It was a palpable hit, sir--the thing was settled--the _manager managed_; and _Smelfungus_ retired, _without_ his manuscript, half sorry he had not added _another_ scene to his farce. Well, sir, the story got wind, and some days after Davy dined with a lawyer who had interested himself vainly for a friend's comedy with him, when, in the course of conversation, the barrister observed to Davy, before a large company, that he had nearly compiled another volume of The Statutes _at large_ (would they were all _at large_), and hoped he might be permitted to name _the British Roscius, the pride of his country._ There was a roar at the expense of Garrick. 'The galled jade' winced terribly:--he was touchy as tinder, sir:--never was _Digest_ so ill-_digested_.'" It was when the meteor-like popularity of little Betty was at its height that poor Suett fell ill, at what he termed his _town_ residence (a second-floor in a low street), and the pigmy Roscius, having eaten too much fruit, kept all London in intense agony for his fate at the same moment. Bulletins were exhibited in Southampton-row several times a-day, signed by numerous physicians. Had he died, how posterity would have been befooled! Suett was then _actually_ dying, yet would he have his joke, and his last moments were cheered by the horse-laugh of the rabble assembled to _spell_ the bulletin suspended to "the second-floor bell," attested by the _mark_ of the old woman who attended him. "You shall be buried in Saint Paul's," said a friend. "Oh, la!" was the dying ejaculation of the comedian. _New Monthly Magazine._ * * * * * THE SELECTOR; AND LITERARY NOTICES OF NEW WORKS. * * * * * AMERICAN TRAVELLING. June 7th, at three in the morning, the steam-boat (which was of immense size, and on the high pressure system) arrived at Albany, having come one hundred and sixty miles in seventeen hours, including stoppages. I found that, unluckily, the mail-coach had left the place just before our arrival, so I booked myself in an accommodation-stage, which was to reach Boston (a distance of one hundred and sixty miles) in three days, and entered the wretched-looking vehicle, with a heavy heart, at eight o'clock.... The machine in which I travelled was slow and crowded. The proprietor had undertaken to let us rest at night on the road; but we found that his notions of rest were very imperfect, and that his night was one of the polar regions.--Having partaken of a wretched dinner at Sand Lake, we arrived about one in the morning at Cheshire, where we were to sleep.