Mr. H. How many? ud, that is coming to the question with a vengeance. One, two, three, four,-what does it signify how many syllables?

Melesinda. How many syllables, Love?

Mr. H. My Melesinda's mind, I had hoped, was superior to this childish curiosity.

Melesinda. How many letters are there in it? [Exit MR. H. followed by MELESINDA repeating the question.

SCENE. A Room in the Inn.

(Two Waiters disputing.)

1st Waiter. Sir Harbottle Hammond, you may depend upon it.

2d Waiter. Sir Harry Hardcastle, I tell you. 1st Waiter. The Hammonds of Huntingdon

shire.

2d Waiter. The Hardcastles of Hertfordshire. 1st Waiter. The Hammonds.

2d Waiter. Don't tell me: does not Hardcastle begin with an H?

1st Waiter. So does Hammond for that matter. 2d Waiter. Faith, so it does if you go to spell it. I did not think of that. I begin to be of your opinion; he is certainly a Hammond.

1st Waiter. Here comes Susan Chambermaid, may be she can tell.

Enter SUSAN.

Both. Well, Susan, have you heard any thing who the strange gentleman is?

Susan. Haven't you heard? its all come out ; Mrs. Guesswell, the parson's widow, has been here about it. I overheard her talking in confidence to Mrs. Setter and Mrs. Pointer, and she says, they were holding a sort of a cummitty about it.

Both. What? What?

Susan. There can't be a doubt of it, she says, what from his figger and the appearance he cuts, and his sumpshous way of living, and above all from the remarkable circumstance that his surname should begin with an H. that he must beBoth. Well, well

Susan. Neither more nor less than the Prince. Both. Prince!

Susan. The Prince of Hessy-Cassel in disguise. Both. Very likely, very likely.

Susan. Oh, there can't be a doubt on it. Mrs. Guesswell says she knows it.

1st Waiter. Now if we could be sure that the

Prince of Hessy what-do-you-call-him was in England on his travels.

2d Waiter. Get a newspaper. Look in the newspapers.

Susan. Fiddle of the newspapers, who else can it be?

Both. That is very true (gravely).

Enter Landlord.

Landlord. Here, Susan, James, Philip, where are you all? The London coach is come in, and there is Mr. Fillaside, the fat passenger, has been bawling for somebody to help him off with his boots. (The Chambermaid and Waiters slip out.)

(Solus.) The house is turned upside down since the strange gentleman came into it. Nothing but guessing and speculating, and speculating and guessing; waiters and chambermaids getting into corners and speculating, ostlers and stable-boys speculating in the yard, I believe the very horses in the stable are speculating too, for there they stand in a musing posture, nothing for them to eat, and not seeming to care whether they have any thing or no; and after all what does it signify? I hate such curious- -odso, I must take this box up into his bed-room-he

charged me to see to it myself—I hate such inquisitive——I wonder what is in it, it feels heavy (reads)" Leases, title deeds, wills." Here now a man might satisfy his curiosity at once. Deeds must have names to them, so must leases and wills. But I wouldn't-no I wouldn't- -it is a pretty box too-prettily dovetailed-I admire the fashion of it much. But I'd cut my fingers off, before I'd do such a dirty-what have I to do-curse the keys, how they rattle-rattle in one's pockets-the keys and the halfpence (takes out a bunch and plays with them). I wonder if any of these would fit; one might just try them, but I wouldn't lift up the lid if they did. Oh no, what should I be the richer for knowing? (All this time he tries the keys one by one.) What's his name to me? a thousand names begin with an H. I hate people that are always prying, poking and prying into things,-thrusting their finger into one place-a mighty little hole thisand their keys into another. Oh Lord! little rusty fits it! but what is that to me? wouldn't go to-no no-but it is odd little rusty should just happen. (While he is turning up the lid of the box, MR. H. enters behind him unperceived).

Mr. H. What are you about, you dog?

Landlord. Oh Lord, Sir! pardon; no thief as I hope to be saved. Little Pry was always honest. Mr. H. What else could move you to open that box!

Landlord. Sir, don't kill me, and I will confess the whole truth. This box happened to be lying-that is, I happened to be carrying this box, and I happened to have my keys out, and so-little rusty happened to fit

Mr. H. So little rusty happened to fit!—and would not a rope fit that rogue's neck? I see the papers have not been moved: all is safe, but it was as well to frighten him a little (aside). Come, Landlord, as I think you honest, and suspect you only intended to gratify a little foolish curiosity

Landlord. That was all, Sir, upon my veracity. Mr. H. For this time I will pass it over. Your name is Pry, I think.

Landlord. Yes, Sir, Jeremiah Pry, at your service.

Mr. H. An apt name, you have a prying temper. I mean, some little curiosity, a sort of inquisitiveness about you.

Landlord. A natural thirst after knowledge you may call it, Sir. When a boy I was never