discovering in the steps of _how many_ "illustrious predecessors" I
am to follow, when I expatiate on that, which, by the last tale in the
last new magazine, seems to be still a marvelous object in creation,
namely, "_The Coquette_."

And oh the poems, and tales, and essays, by the Mrs.'s and Misses--the
Mr.'s and Esqr.'s, let alone the Dr.'s and Rev.'s, who have not
disdained to pour forth their thoughts like water on this exhausted
(?) topic! I will spare you, through mere Christian charity, dear
reader, from listening to their enumeration.

By this time, if you are any thing of a magazine or newspaper reader,
you must _necessarily_ have arrived at some conclusion as to this
tribe of humans. Well, what do you think of coquettes _in general_, my
friend--what do you think of those with whom you have had to do with
_in particular_? According to Johnson, a coquette is "a gay, airy
girl, who by various _arts_ endeavors to gain admirers." Natural
enough, all that, _I_ should say.

When women are blessed (?) by a kind Providence with beauty, does it
not follow rapidly on the heels of the truth, that they are meant and
made to be admired, and loved, and wooed by the gender masculine? And
when the admiration and homage of men's hearts are offered at the
shrine of beauty--and the favored fair one tastes the cup of adulation
man _forces_ to her lips, say, ye wise ones! is there any thing so
very _unnatural_ in the fact that her human heart cries "more?" Why,
even that poor, miserable daughter of the horse-leech was not content
with saying "give!" once, it must needs be "give--_give_!"

Now, in all fairness, I put the question to you--what warrior, after a
brilliant achievement in _one_ battle--after one glorious conquest
over his foes, was content ever after to dwell in a quiet obscurity,
and suffer his name to be at last almost forgotten by men, because of
his very inaction? Tell me, was that shining light so often lit and
re-lit on the Mountain of Warning for the benefit of the sojourners
in the vallies of the world--I mean Napoleon Bonaparte? Was Cortes?
Was Alexander?

What _author_, after writing _one_ book that took the reading world by
storm, ever after that blessed day laid down his pen and said, "I have
done." Did any of those glorious beings who, with their
death-stiffened fingers _can_ write for us no more? Are the writers of
_our_ day satisfied with _one_ brilliant and successful effort in the
field of literary