which some great and good men have lately contrived, and now
recommend for the welfare and happiness of the American nation.

LOVEYET. Oh, the traitor!

HUMPHRY. But didn't old Mr. What's-his-name say, how they wanted for to
make slaves of us?

LOVEYET. There's _old_ Mr. What's-his-name, again.

TRUEMAN. Mr. Loveyet is a weak man;--you must not mind what he says.

LOVEYET. Oh, I shall burst!

TRUEMAN. Only think now of his sending me a challenge, because I told him
he was sixty odd years of--

LOVEYET. [_Running towards them._] Death and the devil! Have I sent you a
challenge?

HUMPHRY. No, not you, old gentleman.

LOVEYET. I'll give you _old_ gentleman.--Take that, for calling me old
again. [_Offers to strike him; but missing his blow, he falls down._] Oh,
what an unlucky dog I am! My evil genius is certainly let loose today.

TRUEMAN. Let us coolly enquire into this enigmatical affair, Mr. Loveyet.
[_Breaks open the note, and reads._] What is all this?--Booby--blockhead--
satisfaction--challenge--courage--honour--gentleman--honour'd per Monsieur
Cubb.

HUMPHRY. Aye, that's I.

TRUEMAN. And pray, Mr. Cubb, who gave you this pretty epistle?

HUMPHRY. Why, mounsieur, the barber.

TRUEMAN. By the dignity of my profession, it must be so:--Now there's a
solution to the enigma.--Mr. Loveyet, you will excuse my mistaking this
business so much;--the paltry Frisieur never enter'd my head;--you
recollect I gave him a little flagellation this morning.

LOVEYET. Yes, and I recollect the occasion too;--this confounded upstart
Constitution (that cause of all my crosses and troubles) is at the bottom
of every mischief.

TRUEMAN. Yes, your wou'd-be Constitution, has indeed done a deal of
mischief.

LOVEYET. I deny it;--it is perfectly inoffensive and mild.

TRUEMAN. Mild, indeed:--happy would it be for America, if her government
was more coercive and energetic!--I suppose you have heard that
Massachusetts has ratified this upstart Constitution;--this is the sixth
grand column in the federal edifice; we only want three more to make up
the lucky nine; and then the nine Muses will make our western world their
permanent abode; and _he_ who is at once their Favourite and Patron, will
preside over the whole: then we shall see another Golden Age; arts will
then flourish, and literature be properly encouraged. That's the grand
_desideratum_ of _my_ wishes.

LOVEYET. A fig for your Latin and your literature!--That's the