ositively know of nothing that can be called so,
unless you dignify with that title the hopping once a fortnight to the
sound of two or three squeaking fiddles, and the clattering of the old
tavern windows, or sitting to see the miserable mummers, whom you call
actors, murder comedy and make a farce of tragedy.

MANLY. Do you never attend the theatre, sir?

DIMPLE. I was tortured there once.

CHARLOTTE. Pray, Mr. Dimple, was it a tragedy or a comedy?

DIMPLE. Faith, madam, I cannot tell; for I sat with my back to the stage
all the time, admiring a much better actress than any there--a lady who
played the fine woman to perfection; though, by the laugh of the horrid
creatures round me, I suppose it was comedy. Yet, on second thoughts, it
might be some hero in a tragedy, dying so comically as to set the whole
house in an uproar.--Colonel, I presume you have been in Europe?

MANLY. Indeed, sir, I was never ten leagues from the continent.

DIMPLE. Believe me, Colonel, you have an immense pleasure to come; and
when you shall have seen the brilliant exhibitions of Europe, you will
learn to despise the amusements of this country as much as I do.

MANLY. Therefore I do not wish to see them; for I can never esteem that
knowledge valuable which tends to give me a distaste for my native
country.

DIMPLE. Well, Colonel, though you have not travelled, you have read.

MANLY. I have, a little, and by it have discovered that there is a
laudable partiality which ignorant, untravelled men entertain for
everything that belongs to their native country. I call it laudable; it
injures no one; adds to their own happiness; and, when extended, becomes
the noble principle of patriotism. Travelled gentlemen rise superior, in
their own opinion, to this: but if the contempt which they contract for
their country is the most valuable acquisition of their travels, I am
far from thinking that their time and money are well spent.

MARIA. What noble sentiments!

CHARLOTTE. Let my brother set out from where he will in the fields of
conversation, he is sure to end his tour in the temple of gravity.

MANLY. Forgive me, my sister. I love my country; it has its foibles
undoubtedly;--some foreigners will with pleasure remark them--but such
remarks fall very ungracefully from the lips of her citizens.

DIMPLE. You are perfectly in the right, Colonel--America has her faults.

MANLY. Yes, sir; and we, her children, should blush for them in private,