Bolt. Dogfish are Jaylors, and Stockfish the poore common people. Sir Jeo. Indeed they live hardly. Bolt. But, sir, they are beatent too't.Then have you wet Eeles for Whores, and great Oysters for Bawds. Sir Jeo. Why great Oysters Bawds? Bolt. Because for the most part they be stewed. Sir Jeo. Very good! Bolt. Lastly, because no kingdom can stand without Laws, and where Law has her eyne, there Lawyers and Pettifoggers swarme, therefore the Lawyers here are sharks, and Gudgeons their poore Clyents. This luculent dialogue (which the reader may permit himself to smile over, in spite of all the recollections of Ben Johnson, which it must revive,) is interrupted by the voice of Wallace, who is singing to himself in the back ground. Bolt says it is "some falconer teaching his hawk pricksong;' but the English wits are soon undeceived, and are, of course, eased of their portmanteaus by the illustrious hero of Scotia. The whole of the third act is occupied with the same sort of foolery. In the fourth we have higher matters. Wallace joins the Scotch army, headed by Grimsby, Cumming, and other great lords. He is received with three cheers by the soldiery, but, on demanding his place, is ordered by the generals to charge in the rear rank-a proposal which he rejects with high scorn. Were I to hunt within the wildernesse When others' strength had tamed 'em. The lion, being new rowzed, and when his eyes Sparkle with flames of indignation. Wallace is obliged, nevertheless, to put up with the rear. The Scots are, as might be expected, worsted by the English assailants, and saved from utter ruin only by the tardy appearance of the sulky hero. The famous interview between him and Robert Bruce (the interview which decided ultimately the fate of Scotland) is, by a poetic license, made to occur in the midst of this battle, where the two chiefs stand speechifying to each other like Glaucus and Diomed discussing their pedigrees in the Iliad. The battle, in short, is a drawn one; and we have King Edward carousing jollily all the night after in company, as it would seem, with his whole hostrather an extensive public meeting. Bolt, the clerkly wit, is apparently seated very near the King's own person, when his Majesty takes the opportunity of asking where his master Sir Jeffrey is? Bolt replies that he was shot, and adds, that he wonders he himself was not shot before him. King. Why, pr'ythee? Bolt. Why, because my knight's name being Wiseacre and mine Bolt; and you know a fooles bolt is soon shot. The which joke is exceedingly applauded by King Edward; and, indeed, seems to have been so by the author of the play, since it is now obvious that Bolt was named ab ovo for the sake of its introduction. The King now inquires of Lord Clifford how the English had fought that day-(it seems, indeed, to be high time that he should inquire as to this matter)— and is answered that they fought well, and that they would have made a grand and complete victory of it had there been no WALLACE-concluding thus gallantly : Sir, you shall give me leave to drink a health To all the valiant Scots King. Clifford, I'll pledge thee--give me my bowle. Cliff. Sir, I remember Wallace in my draught. King. I did not. So this cup were Wal lace' skull, I'de drink it full with bloud, &c. &c. &c. The act concludes with a trumpeter being sent in by Wallace to challenge the English King, host to host, hundred to hundred, fifty to fifty, or one to one a cartel which is rejected even over a second bowl; while, at the same time a proclamation, offering twenty thousand crowns for Wallace's head, is suggested, and carried by a great show of hands. Act V.-Menteith and Cumming converse together on the subject of this proclamation, and at last make up their minds to betray the Hero. He, meantime, has sundry extraordinary forewarnings, all of which he, after the manner of all heroes, neglects to act upon. For the sake of the broad Scotch of the ghosts, and the coolness of the ghost-seer, I shall extract a bit of this. Enter the Fryer's (GERTRID's) Ghost. If what thou seemest thou art, step for Enter Old WALLACE his Ghost. Whereon Sir William says:That eye hath shot me throw, woundes me to death: I know that face too well; but 'tis so ghastly, I'll rather with my nayles here dig my grave, Than once more behold thee. [Exit Ghost. Part from me, vext spirit-my bloud turnes to water! I beseech thee affright me not- -it's gone! Enter PEGGIE's Ghost. Peg. Alace! Scotland, to wham salt thou complayne Alace! frae mourning wha sall thee refrayne? I thee beseekand, for him dyed on tree, Come not near Bruyce, yet Bruyce sall not hurt thee appointed to have a private meeting with Bruce; and, of course, Wallace does not change his plans. He is betrayed by Menteith-though we have nothing of the turning of the bannock. Bruce, in the meantime, in endeavouring to escape from Edward's camp, has to solicit the aid of a poor Scotch soldier, who, granting what is asked, ejaculates— O, my poore wronged country! Pardon me, Heaven, And with a feather plucked from Mercie's wing, Brush off the purple spots, that else would grow Like freckles on my soul! Menteith, however, and Wallace, his prisoner, make their appearance in the English camp ere Bruce is enabled to leave it. The moment Wallace's manacles are relaxed, in order that he may speak in his own defence, he turns round on his betrayer, and kills him with one blow of his fist. King Edward, without delay, passes sentence of hanging and drawing on Wallace; and Cumming, demanding, now that Menteith is dead, the whole of the 20,000 crowns, receives, at the same moment, a stab in the heart from the dirk of Bruce, (a boldish anticipation.) Bruce, bending before the knee of Edward, does homage, and is proclaimed King of Scotland; and so ends the play: the whole of these last matters being discussed in the space of about four pages. It would be truly absurd to enter upon any formal criticism of such a piece as this. At the same time, I may be permitted to say, that there are probably a great many of your readers, who, like myself more or less, enjoy anything in the shape of an unknown old English drama; that there are occasional flashes throughout this drama, both of the peculiar poetry and the peculiar humours of our old stage; and that it is, at all events, a matter of some curiosity to see how an English poet, in the early days of the Stuarts, got through the difficulties inherent in any attempt to represent upon the English theatre such a collision of characters and interests as that of which I have afforded you these few glimpses. I am, Sir, NEW CHRISTMAS CAROL. By the Ettrick Shepherd. THEN fy let us a' to subscribing. And the pence in the kist that lay mouling, With our scheming, and steaming, and dreaming, Now thieves will be nabb'd by the thousand; Alack for our grandfathers musty, Of such ongoings ne'er did they dream; Shall go waltz on the crown of his head. Then fy let us a' to subscribing, And build up a tower to the moon"; Dad out the wee stars wi' our shoon; Then, hey fal de ray, fal de rady, Let's see a' how proud we can be, And build ower a brig to Kirkaldy, And drown a' the French in the sea! NEW YEAR'S CHAUNT. BY MR SECRETARY MULLION. ADIEU-adieu to lubberly sorrow,— Drain your glasses, no heeltaps leave; Vicars tipple on Saturday eve, and the morrow Twang through their noses, and smile in their sleeve : And shall we, my merry men, chicken-hearted, Faint at the tipple, and boggle queer? Here's to the rest of the year departed, And here's to joy, and the opening year! "Tis only whigamore fools and asses, That Sorrow can thump over buff and blue; But loyal lieges empty their glasses, And stand to the bowl, and their country true. It finds us still as bang-up, and shining, Out upon time-och, the days are over, When love in this heart it played pit-a-pat; To banish blue devils, and welcome cheer; Then here's to the health of the wise and witty; And drink botheration to demagogue slaves; Never be deemed worth a sneeze or sneer, VOL. XVI. FAREWELL TO TWENTY-FOUR. BY DELTA. FARE thee well, then, Twenty-four, The latest of thy days are come! Fair water in the china pour, And add the golden rum, Nor wanting be the fragrant lime, Nor snow-white lumps of sugar clear, So, as we triumph over Time, We'll hail the coming year! Yet, where are they, the loved-the lost- Or in the churchyard bed. Closed are the eyes which sparkled bright, The hearts are stilled in silence drear, That might have throbbed with our's to-night, Alas-alas! why should we mourn O'er mellow pleasures which have been? Then far from us scowl sullen Care- And ice upon the stream; So, let us cope, in buoyant hope, Yea, brave all ills with dauntless cheer, 4 S THE WEST INDIAN CONTROVERSY. No. IV. C6 THE THING WHICH HATH BEEN IS THAT ALSO WHICH SHALL be." WE were quite in earnest when we spoke, some time ago, of having terminated this series of papers. We now find, however, that this must not be. We find that the enemies of the character and of the greatness of England will not be silent-that no reasons, either of justice or of humanity, or of prudence, have weight enough to make them sit in quiet even for one single day-that their meetings are as full of madness, and their press of malice, as they ever were-that Parliament is about to be again tormented with their obstinate ravings-that Government is, and is to be, repaid for every concession, for every exertion-short of the sum-total of that which the utmost imbecility, and the utmost hypocrisy, have combined to demand-with nothing but contempt, insult, scorn. We find this to be the case, and so finding it, we shall not hesitate to do what in us lies towards the exposing of that abject ignorance, that pitiable folly, that fearless impudence, and that base dishonesty, by the protracted, however unnatural, union of which strange elements, some of the highest interests of this country are already placed in danger, and by which, unless decomposed or neutralised by some "wholesome chemistry," these interests MUST, at no very distant date, be utterly destroyed. This empire is, in our time, assailed at many different points by two different factions, two factions entirely different in principles and character-the Liberals and the Saints. The one of these is the avowed enemy of the CHURCH, and all but the avowed enemy of RELIGION. Its leaders, also, are never weary of sneering at the constitution of this country as it existswe do not mean to say, of sneering at particular points of it, of labouring to produce reform in regard to particular matters, no matter whether of real or of fancied abuse-but of sneering at the fabric as a whole, and endeavouring to pave the way for a republican revolution. Their eternal laudations of the United States of America, SOLOMON. as compared with their parent country, and the open avowed sympathy and co-operation which they lend to all the schemes, no matter how wild, and all the exertions, however wicked, however absurd, of all the enemies of Monarchy and Christianity in every quarter of the world-these are plain things, which, being before the eyes of us all, would render any lengthened inquiry as to the real views and feelings of this party worse than idle. It is lamentable, but true, that the Whigs have all but ceased to exist as an active Opposition, either in or out of Parliament. It is certain that the men who at this day are chiefly before the public, whether as Opposition speakers or as Opposition writers, belong to this new faction. Its orators are the personal insulters of their King; its heroes are soldiers false to their trust, disgraced and degraded; its legislators are pedlars. It is at open war with the spirit of England. Every wise man in the country understands its follyevery GENTLEMAN despises its mean ness. The other party are the heirs of much of the religious, but happily not as yet of the political, fanaticism of the 17th century. In general feeling as to political matters, they are as much superior to the others, as in honesty and sincerity of principle, moral and religious, and in personal purity of life and manners. They have done good service in many respects to their country; they have, upon the whole, stood her fast friends in the day of peril; their influence has, upon the whole, been as yet favourable, even in regard to her church. But they have begun to be much too powerful, even as a religious party; and, above all, they have begun to turn their religious influence altogether away from its proper objects. The well-being of the State, in a word, is seriously threatened by the example they have recently set of using their fanatical esprit-de-corps as a distinct and independent engine for purposes purely political. This is an evil which must be checked, otherwise |