the strength of having been thoroughly
kicked by the enemy.

This is a long digression, but it passed rapidly through my mind as the
little, hard-faced old gentleman stood before me, looking at me with a
piercing glance, and a resolute air. At length, unlike a ghost, he spoke
first.

"You are the editor?"--&c.

"A slight motion of acquiescence with my head, and an affirmative wave
of my hand, a little leaning toward the majestic, announced to my
unknown friend the accuracy of his conjecture."

The little old gentleman's face relaxed--he took off his broad-brimmed
hat, and laid it down with his cane carefully on the table, then seized
my hand and shook it heartily. People are so polite and friendly when
about to ask a favor.

"My dear air," said he, "this is a pleasure I have long sought vainly.
You must know, sir. I am the editor of a theatrical weekly--a neat thing
in its way--here's the last number." He fumbled about in his pocket, and
produced a red-covered pamphlet.

"I have been some time publishing it, and though it is admitted by all
acquainted with its merits to be clearly the best thing of the kind ever
started this side of the Atlantic, yet people do not seem to take much
notice of it. Indeed, my friends tell me that the public are not fully
aware of its existence. Pray let me be indebted to you for a notice. I
wish to get fairly afloat. You see I have been too diffident about it.
We modest fellows allow our inferiors to pass us often. I will leave
this number with you. Pray, pray give it a good notice."

He placed in my hands the eleventh number of the "North American
Thespian Magazine," devoted to the drama, and also to literature,
science, history, and the arts. On reading over the prospectus, I found
it vastly comprehensive, embracing pretty much every subject in the
world. If so extensive a plan were decently filled up in the details,
the "North American Thespian Magazine" was certainly worth the annual
subscription money, which was only one dollar. I said so under my
"literary notices" in the next impression of my journal; and, although I
had not actually read the work, yet it sparkled so with asterisks,
dashes, and notes of admiration, that it looked interesting. I added in
my critique, that it was elegantly got up, that its typographical
execution reflected credit on the publishers, that its failure would be
a grievous reproach to the city, that its editor was a scholar, a
writer, and a gentl