I will step up, and speak to him. Now, Tom! how have horses gone, at Market-hill? Tom. Dear enough, your honor!

A. How much more did you get for Mr. Goodwin's mare, than I offered him?

T. Ah, sir! that was not an animal for your riding, and Mr. Goodwin well knew it. You never saw such a vicious creature. She liked to have killed the groom, two or three times. So I was ordered to offer her to the mail-coach people, and get what I could from them. I might have sold her to better advantage, if Mr. Goodwin would have let me, for she was as fine a creature, to look at, as need be, and quite sound.

A. And was that the true reason, Tom, why the mare was not sold to me?

T. It was, indeed, sir.

A. Then I am highly obliged to Mr. Goodwin. (Tom rides on.) This was handsome behavior, indeed!

B. Yes, I think it was somewhat more than politeness; it was real goodness of heart.

A. It was. I find I must alter my opinion of him, and I do it with pleasure. But, after all, his conduct, with respect to my servant, is somewhat unaccountable.

B. I see reason to think so well of him, in relation to most transactions, that I am inclined to hope he will be acquitted in this matter, too.

A. There the fellow is; I wonder that he has my old livery on yet. (Ned approaches, pulling off his hat.)

Ned. Sir, I was coming to your honor. A. What can you have to say to me now, Ned?

N. To ask pardon, sir, for my misbehavior, and beg you to take me again.

A. What! have you so soon parted with your new master?

N. Mr. Goodwin never was my master, sir. He only kept me in his house, till I could make up with you, again; for he said, he was sure you were too honorable a gentleman to turn off an old servant, without good reason, and he hoped you would admit my excuses, after your anger was

over.

A. Did he say all that?

N. Yes, sir; and he advised me not to delay, any longer, asking your pardon.

A. Well; go to my house, and I will talk with you, on my return.

It

B. Now, my friend, what think you of this? A. I think more than I can well express. will be a lesson to me, never to make hasty judgements again.

B. Why, indeed, to have concluded, that such a man had nothing of the gentleman about him, must have been rather hasty.

A. I acknowledge it. But it is the misfortune of these reserved characters, that they are so long in making themselves known; though, when they are known, they often prove the most truly estimable. I am afraid, even now, that I must be content with esteeming him at a distance.

B. Why so?

A. You know I am of an open, sociable disposition.

B. Perhaps he is so, too.

A. If he was, surely, we should have been better acquainted, before this time.

B. It may have been prejudice, rather than temper, that has kept you asunder.

A. Possibly so. That vile spirit of party has such a sway in the country, that men of the most liberal dispositions can hardly free themselves from its influence. It poisons all the kindness of society; and yonder comes an instance of its pernicious effects.

B. Who is he?

A. A poor schoolmaster, with a large family, in the next market-town, who has lost all his scholars, by his activity on our side, in the last election. I heartily wish it was in my power to do something for him; for he is a very honest man, though perhaps rather too warm. (The schoolmaster comes up.)

A. Now, Mr. Penman, how go things with

you?

Penman. I thank you, sir, they have gone poorly enough, but I hope they are in the way to mend. A. I am glad to hear it; but how?

P. Why, sir, the free-school of Stoke is vacant, and I believe I am likely to get it.

A. Ah! I wonder at that. I thought it was in the hands of the other party.

P. It is, sir; but Mr. Goodwin has been so

kind, as to give me a recommendation, and his interest is sufficient to carry it.

He sent

A. Mr. Goodwin! you surprise me. P. I was much surprised, too, sir. for me, of his own accord, (for I should never have thought of asking from him, a favor,) and told me, he was sorry a man should be injured in his profession, on account of party, and, as I could not live, comfortably, where I was, he would try to settle me in a better place. So he mentioned the vacancy of Stoke, and offered me letters to the trustees. I was never so affected, in my life, sir. I could hardly speak, to return him thanks. He kept me to dinner, and treated me with the greatest respect. Indeed, I believe there is not a kinder man breathing, than Mr. Goodwin.

A. You have the best reason in the world for saying so, Mr. Penman. What; did he converse familiarly, with you!

P. Quite so sir. We talked a great deal, about party affairs, in this neighborhood; and he lamented, much, that differences, of this kind, should keep worthy men at a distance from each other. I took the liberty, sir, of mentioning your name. He said, he had not the honor of being acquainted with you; but that he had a sincere esteem for your character, and should be glad of any occasion to cultivate a friendship with you. my part, I confess, to my shame, I did not think there could have been such a man, on that side. A. Well, good morning.

P. Your most obedient, sir. (He goes.)

For

A. (after some silence,)Come, my friend, let us go.

B. Whither?

A. Can you doubt? To Mr. Goodwin's, to be sure. After all that I have heard, can I exist a moment, without acknowledging the injustice I have done him, and soliciting his friendship?

B. I shall be happy, I am sure, to accompany you, on that errand. But who is to introduce us? A. What is form and ceremony, in a case like this? Come; come.

B. Most willingly.

THE FEMALE CHOICE.

A TALE.

One

A YOUNG girl, having fatigued herself, one day, with running about the garden, sat herself down, in a pleasant arbor, where she presently fell asleep. During her slumber, she dreamed that two female figures presented themselves before her. was loosely habited in a thin robe of pink, with light green trimmings. Her sash, of silver gauze, flowed to the ground. Her fair hair fell, in ringlets, down her neck; and her head-dress consisted of artificial flowers, interwoven with feathers. She held, in one hand, a ball ticket, and, in the other, a fancy dress, all covered with spangles and knots of gay riband. She advanced, smiling