it is not so in yours.  I know it! but alas! the Atlantic!  However, I really must tell you how I have been treated:  not only did I publish the most biting sat-heres against the Adams faction, but I wrote songs and odes in honour of Jackson; and my daughter, Cordelia, sang a splendid song of my writing, before eight hundred people, entirely and altogether written in his praise; and would you believe it, my dear madam, he has never taken the slightest notice of me, or made me the least remuneration.  But you can’t suppose I mean to bear it quietly?  No!  I promise him that is not my way.  The novel I have just mentioned to you was began as a sentimental romance (that, perhaps, after all, is my real forte), but after the provocation I received at Washington, I turned it into a sat-herical novel, and I now call it Yankee Doodle Court.  By the way my dear madam, I think if I could make up my mind to cross that terrible Atlantic, I should be pretty well received, after writing Yankee Doodle Court!”

I took the opportunity of a slight pause to ask her to what party she now belonged, since she had forsworn both Adams and Jackson.

“Oh Clay!  Clay for ever! he is a real true-hearted republican; the others are neither more nor less than tyrants.”

When next I entered the sitting-room she again addressed me, to deplore the degenerate taste of the age.

“Would you believe it?  I have at this moment a comedy ready for representation; I call it ‘The Mad Philosopher.’  It is really admirable, and its success certain, if I could get it played.  I assure you the neglect I meet with amounts perfectly to persecution.  But I have found out how to pay them, and to make my own fortune.  Sat-here, (as she constantly pronounced satire) sat-here is the only weapon that can revenge neglect, and I flatter myself I know how to use it.  Do me the favour to look at this,”

She then presented me with a tiny pamphlet, whose price, she informed me, was twenty-five cents, which I readily paid to become the possessor of this chef d’oeuvre.  The composition was pretty nearly such as I anticipated, excepting that the English language was done to death by her pen still more than by her tongue.  The epigraph, which was subscribed “original,” was as follows: 

  “Your popularity’s on the decline: 
   You had your triumph! now I’ll have mine.”

These are rather a favourable specimen of the verses that follow.

In a subsequent conversation she made me acquainted with another talent, informing me that she had played the part of Charlotte, in Love a la mode, when General Lafayette honoured the theatre at Cincinnati with his presence.

She now appeared to have run out the catalogue of her accomplishments; and I came to the conclusion that my new acquaintance was a strolling player:  but she seemed to guess my thoughts, for she presently added.  “It was a Thespian corps that played before the General.”