Most of what is here related came to the knowledge of the writer in desultory conversations with Hodgkinson, and two other persons now in America. “I have very often,” said John, “reflected on the success of our stratagems, and could not help inferring from it a truth which moral philosophers have long since laid down; that little cunning is most perfect in weakest minds. I am persuaded that our company could not, when grown up to manhood, have acted with half the minute ingenuity which we displayed on that occasion.” “I had one day, continued he, put on my best clothes for the purpose of rehearsing LIONEL. I panted for a suit of black for it, but could not obtain one; so I was fain to put up with one of blue. It was almost new to be sure, but was daubed over with brass buttons, and therefore rather unfit for the clerical Lionel. That, however, I dared not alter. Returning home when our play was over, I descried my master coming towards me, and, convinced that he saw me, I turned into a corner, as if to hide myself, knelt down in order to cover the knees of my small clothes with dust, pulled out my bag of marbles and chalk, which I always carried for the purpose of deception, and daubed my thumbs and fingers, and even my sleeves and waistcoat with chalk, as if I had been playing marbles. “Aha, you young villain, he cried, before he got up to me, you have been playing marbles, have you! I’ll marble you, you rascal.” Having accomplished my purpose, I ran away too fast for him to catch me. That night I heard him say, “One would think the fellow was too old to play marbles, by this time!--I dont know what the d--l to do with him.” In fact (continued Hodgkinson) we were, like birds, in the daily habit of playing a thousand tricks to draw away intruders or suspicion from our nest.”