The Chapter which is now about to succeed, is to us incomprehensible. It is literally transcribed from the manuscript, and the reader is at liberty to make what he can of it. “Pray my dear, addressing myself in a very soft tone to “the Lady,” when will it be convenient for you to suffer me to invite a select party of brother authors, to partake of a humble repast? Whom in particular do you wish to ask? You know all my literary friends and connections, and I think I cannot do better than to leave the selection to yourself. Well then I have no objection, provided you do not invite the RICH AUTHOR. Whom is it you mean? I am surprized at your dullness. Pray are there many rich authors? Certainly not. Well, then, I mean that man who, because he has a great command of money, and has written some trifling pieces of poetry, assumes great personal importance, and crosses on the other side to avoid the salutation of men far superior to himself in genius and learning, who having heard from one of your old poets, that I have heard you talk about, that they who drink water can never produce a good poem, conceives himself to be a solitary exception, and that the pure stream of Helicon is reserved exclusively for him. Enough, my dear, the Rich Author shall not break bread with us. Neither would I have you ask the NOBLE AUTHOR. Him, I mean, who is certainly possessed of great intellectual powers, and a peculiar turn for a certain line of poetry; but whose bad passions so perpetually insinuate themselves in every thing which he writes, that it is hardly possible to escape the injury of his venom, and scarcely worth while to separate the gold from the dross. His volatile mind thinks it an act of manliness to sneer at religion, and if on any occasion provoked to resentment, his malignity becomes fury, and there is no object either too high or too low upon which he does not vent his rancour. Agreed—neither shall he eat our salt. On no account send an invitation to the VAIN AUTHOR. I fear too many of my brethren fall under that denomination; but whom is it that you more particularly wish to except? I mean him to whom I very willingly concede the most perfect good-nature, the most friendly disposition and no mean portion of ability. But, indeed, my dear friend, he is so tiresome with his long eternal stories, that he imposes a restraint upon that variety of conversation which is the great charm of an amicable meeting. I have no other fault to find with him. I would rather however have him, than the POMPOUS AUTHOR. I do not immediately comprehend to whom you allude.