You describe the character of our Satirist very accurately. I know not which of his qualities inspires most approbation, the placid, instructive tenor of his conversation in private society, or the dignified and spirited demeanour with which he mounts his Pegasus, to restrain folly, chastise error, and disperse the gaudy mob of poetasters. Who next? though these two are of themselves a host. Why we will have ONE NOBLE AUTHOR. I cannot be much at a loss to know whom you intend, as our acquaintance in that line is not very extensive. What is the cause of your partiality to him? I like him, in the first place, because he never presumes upon his rank and title; because he descends to easy and elegant familiarity with every guest; and, moreover, because he has seen much, travelled much, and knows much; he neither arrogantly intrudes in conversation, or petulantly withholds the information he is so qualified to communicate. We get on so smoothly now that it seems necessary to remind you of the smallness of our apartment. Have you any body else to name? Oh yes, by all means, let us have the FACETIOUS AUTHOR. Mean you a writer of facetious books? Why, yes, that may be said, and said truly. He has been a _projector_ of many truly facetious and original schemes, which he has detailed for the advantage, as well as amusement, of the public. I rather, however, thus designated him on account of the unvaried pleasantry and good-humour of his conversation. This has long been the delight of his friends, for it is always the same, always flows in the same even channel of ingenuous mirth. He never fatigues you with the repetition of what you have heard a thousand times before, but has a perpetual supply from his stores of memory for the promotion of cheerfulness. Now you have proceeded thus far without interruption or contradiction, you will, I hope, permit me to name one of our guests, to whom I think it impossible you should object. I don’t know that. But— You know how I abominate that monosyllable _But_—I must insist upon asking my very old friend, and your’s also, Sylvanus Urban. You really anticipate me. He is worthy of a place at any table, and I should no more think of selecting a party from those whom I most esteemed, and best love, without soliciting his presence, than I would have our turbot (_Husband_ aside—_mem_, there _must_ be a turbot!) without lobster, or partridges without bread-sauce. You are perfectly right, yet pray tell me under what description of authors would you rank our old friend? What epithet would you apply to him? Why I think Sylvanus Urban may be termed the UNIVERSAL AUTHOR.