(A short pause.) Count. His silence is strange: he consented to meet me. Chamberlain. He knew very well that I was to come. Count. Hem! hem! (Coughs loud.) Chamberlain. Perhaps this extraordinary coughing means that he expects me to speak first. Count. This is losing time! I will address him. (Aloud) I beg you to be assured, sir, how rejoiced I am, yes, how honored I feel myself, to be allowed to make your very interesting ac Chamberlain, (aside) Good heavens! that voice! Can I believe my ears! Well, him, I certainly did not suspect Shall I answer him? Oh the traitor! Ha! He shall know that he is detected! (Aloud) I also, sir, feel it an extraordinary honor to be allowed to renew your acquaint Count. Am I bewitched, or is that the voice of the Grand Chamberlain. Chamberlain, (aside.) It is truly incredible! Such falseness, such duplicity! Chamberlain is more than ever convinced that] Chamberlain. I think I will wait till he says a Count Steinhausen is not acting openly with him, friendly word to me. and that the elderly gentleman for whom he set the whole waterworks of the park plashing and springing, is the right man, the real Simon Pure. To cure Oscar of his scepticism on the subject of the mysterious agent, he informs him, in strict confidence, that the Princess Eugenie is in love with the Duke's enigmatical adviser. The Chamberlain is not aware of the projected marriage of the young Count and the Princess. It is now Oscar's turn to start and be convinced; and he vows to himself to find out the Agent and challenge him to mortal combat. This scene is followed by one between the Duchess and her son. She denounces the Secret Agent as a spy and aquaintance. traitor, declares her detestation of him, and hopes that she never may see him but once, at the moment of his departure, to express to him her abhorrence. Before his arrival her son was dutiful and pliant, and to his evil suggestions she attributes all the unpleasantness, and the conflict for power, that has since occurred between them.ance. The Duke coaxes her, and proposes a treaty of peace, on conditions acceptable to both parties. The Duchess is willing to conclude it, but on one sole condition-that the Secret Agent shall quit the court. This the Duke refuses, but presently offers to compound the matter. On condition that his mother shall arrange the breaking off of his projected marriage with the Princess Amelia of Brunswick, he promises that she shall see the Secret Agent, and that then, if she still insists upon it, he shall quit the court. After some reflection she agrees to this compact, and asks when she is to see him. The same evening, is the reply when she and the court are assembled in that saloon, the Secret Agent shall come out of the Duke's private apartments and present to her an unimportant paper. Thus we have everybody hoping or expecting to see the Secret Agent. Oscar is everywhere seeking him, to call him to an account for Eugenie's attachment. Count Steinhausen and the Grand Chamberlain have each separately been promised by George obscurity! (who is instructed by the Duke), an interview with the Secret Agent immediately after night-my curiosity. fall. One condition is imposed upon them, namely, that they are to meet in the dark. It is the only way in which he can be prevailed upon to make their acquaintance. The scenes that follow are rich in complications and dramatic situations. Count (aside.) Is it to be believed that after all the Grand Chamberlain was the Secret Agent, and that it is he who has taken us in so completely? Duke, (opening the door of his private apartments.) Count. That alone was wanting! The Duke! Chamberlain. My God, he will detect me with his Secret Agent. (Both seek the centre door, but instead of finding it, Chamberlain. For God's sake, let me go! Duke (with a servant carrying lights.) Ah! gentlemen! a conference in the dark! The decisions should be gloomy, that you come to in this Count, (aside.) The Duke will never forgive Chamberlain, (aside.) His Highness will assuredly be extremely angry at my trying to penetrate his secrets. Count, (aside.) He said my good Count Steinhausen! Then he is not angry. Duke. Why, my good Count Steinhausen, my dear Lord Chamberlain, what has come to you? You look as if you had seen a ghost. Has anyCount, (enters softly, coughs.) Hem!-hem!-thing extraordinary happened? hem! There seems to be no one here as yet. I am the first, and I only hope the Secret Agent will not keep me long waiting; I fear lest some officious lackey should come in with lights. It is dark enough here, at any rate. What door will he come out of, I wonder? Hardly out of the Duke's cabinet; that were too dangerous! Ha, I am right! the centre door opens! Chamberlain, (steals slowly forward aside.) I wonder if the Secret Agent has come. It has struck seven. (Coughs.) Hem! hem! Count. Hem! hem! 'Tis he! Chamberlain, (aside.) My dear Lord Chamber lain, he called me! He does not take it so ill as I feared. Count. O your Highness! we accidentally met here, and my Lord Chamberlain spoke to me of certain changes in his department, assuredly only in his department. Chamberlain. Certainly, your Highness; my conversation with his Excellency related entirely to things in my department. Duke, (laughing.) I assure you I have no de Count. Shall I wait till he speaks to me? I sire to interrupt your conversation. Au revoir. think I had better. We shall meet again presently, at the Duchess's evening reception! My dear Count, in a quarter The uncle loves his nephew's affianced bride! of an hour I wish to speak to you in my cabinet. (Aloud) Shocking! Shocking! [Goes out. Count, (aside.) Thank God he does not seem incensed at my having spoken to his Secret Agent. But how right I was to mistrust the Grand Chamberlain ! Chamberlain. (aside.) I shall never forget this fright. That Count Steinbausen but I am in no frame of mind to renew the conversation. Count, (aside.) I have got all I want, since I know who is the Secret Agent. Oscar. Is it not really shocking? But rest as- Chamberlain, (aside.) I had nearly betrayed myself! Oscar. Because he arranged the marriage? Pardon me, my Lord Chamberlain. My uncle knew nothing of any understanding between the (Both go to the centre door, and make many compli- Princess and the Secret Agent. Count Steinments about who shall go out first.) Chamberlain. I am more at home here than your Excellency. hausen is a man of honor. Chamberlain, (aside.) Poor young man! (Aloud) Certainly! (Aside) Would that this evening were Oscar. The Duchess! Count. I must entreat - I know too well what over! I owe to you. Chamberlain. Your Excellency must nevertheless take the precedence—I remain here. [Count goes out. (Servants with lights, and ladies and gentlemen of the court, enter through the centre door. The Grand Chamberlain, Count Oscar, members of the Council, etc.) I still am unable to comprehend how that wretched man can dare to play so hazardous a game, behind the back of the Duchess. If she finds it Chamberlain. We had better not speak of that. (Aside) With him, too, I must be upon my guard. Oscar. Why so? I make it no secret that I am doing all in my power to discover the whereabouts of the Secret Agent, and to renew my acquaintance with him. Chamberlain, (frightened.) You know him, then? Oscar, (laughing.) You are absent of mind, my Lord Chamberlain; I yesterday had the honor to inform you that I had conversed with him in the park. Chamberlain. Ah, true! (Aside) He knows nothing. Oscar. A nice gentleman he is. Truth to tell: as far as my uncle's policy goes, I would not have given myself much trouble to find him out; but now that he crosses my own path, I hope soon to discover him, and to have some serious conversation with him. Chamberlain, (absently.) But how does he cross your path? Oscar. Pardon me, my Lord Chamberlain, but you really are very absent. You yourself told me, this morning, that there was a love affair between the Secret Agent and Princess Eugenie; and as the Princess is to be my wife Chamberlain. Good God! The Princess Eugenie your wife? I knew nothing of that! (Aside) SCENE THE SEVENTH. The Duchess, (sits down in un arm-chair.) I am greatly agitated: for many years it has not occurred to me to expect anything so anxiously as I now do the appearance of the mischievous person who, in a few moments, will come forth from yonder cabinet. I await him with shudderbovered around us, and that was suddenly to aping, as I should a spectre that had leng invisibly pear. Chamberlain. Does your Highness wish to play at any game? Duchess. I thank you. Perhaps later. Oscar, (in a low voice to the Chamberlain.) What if we were to play at blind-man's buff, and the person caught shall be accepted as the Secret Agent? I have no patience to wait, and must find somebody on whom to vent my anger. Chamberlain. Jest not so dangerously, I entreat you. (Aside) Unsuspicious young man! Duchess. Count Oscar. Oscar. Your Highness. Did you Oscar. Yes, your Highness; I thought his Excellency was already here. Chamberlain, (aside.) Oh that he may not come! I do so fear his betraying himself. her face towards the door in so marked a manner Duchess, (aside.) The door opens! (She turns that all present, thinking the Duke is about to enter, step aside, and the Grand Chamberlain stations himself behind the Duchess's chair. Count Steinhausen, a paper in his hand, comes slowly with horror, and rises slowly and with difficulty out of the cabinet. The Duchess gazes at him from her seat.) Count. His Highness, the Duke, commissioned me to present this paper to your Highness. ful man! Quit the palace instantly, Count Stein- Chamberlain. She knows him already. Count. What means this? I implore your Highness for God's sake to explain to me-my long services, I think, entitle me to that much. Count, Count. What means your but? Duchess. You want an explanation? the memory of your former services is completely effaced by your latter ones. Yet you have to thank those former services, that I do not, here, before the whole court, give that explanation. Begone! all! all! I would be alone! My Lord Chamberlain, you will remain. Chamberlain, (wiping his forehead.) At your Highness's orders. Duchess. This I did not expect, and it has shaken me to the very soul. Such ingratitude! Such treachery! Whom can one trust, after this? He whom I honored with my whole confidence, who knew all my plans, betakes himself to the side of my son, to act against me, to injure me there where alone I was vulnerable. Everything is now explained; yes, he alone was in a position to betray our secrets to the Duke, since he alone was fully acquainted with them. My strength is broken, I abandon the contest. My Lord Chamberlain ! Chamberlain. A terrible business, your Highness! Who could have dreamed it? Duchess. My prime minister-my son's Secret Agent. Chamberlain. Frightful! Duchess. You knew it, then, my Lord Chamberlain ? Chamberlain. I became aware of it to-day, in a very singular manner. Chamberlain. I was always frank with your Excellency whilst you were in favor, and I will be so now in spite of this terrible disgrace. Read these lines addressed to the Duke. Count, (reads,) "I find myself moved to dismiss the ministry. Whilst I beg of you, my son, to form another, I give you my promise henceforward not to meddle in any state affairs, on the sole condition that no member of the present ministry shall retain his post." That is clear enough. Chamberlain. Very clear. Count. And am I to congratulate my Lord Chamberlain on his accession to the office of premier? Chamberlain. Me? What are you thinking about? I assure your Excellency I hold it for wisest and best, at least for some time to come, to keep as much as possible in the background at this court. Count. In order the better to work from your Count. You soon will. Do not imagine that I so easily abandon the field to you. Count. Yes, to you-Mr. Secret Agent. Duchess. And did not hasten to make the im-ed! But it can only be your recent misfortune portant communication to me! that betrays you into such extraordinary lan Chamberlain. I could not believe it; I doubt-guage; be frank with me. ed the truth of the information; I could not ven- Count. It what? ture to report so important a matter to your Highness until I was myself certain. Duchess. Follow me to my cabinet. [Both go out. SCENE THE EIGHTH. Chamberlain. It is your intention then to persist in a denial? Count. A denial of what? Chamberlain. In denying the Duke, whom you have so well served; but I cannot help laughing -what harm can this paper do you? The prime minister is dead-long live the prime minister! Count. How so? Count, (entering cautiously through the centre door.) I cannot leave the palace. I am beaten. it is true; but if I abandon the field of battle without another attempt at resistance, my defeat be in disgrace with the Duchess, but do you not Chamberlain. Certainly it is not agreeable to is complete. The Grand Chamberlain has over-retain the fullest favor and confidence of the now thrown me, he, the Secret Agent of the Duke. The corn seemed to him to be ripe, and yet I susreally reigning sovereign? pect he has been in too great a hurry to reap. dure your mockery. I am decided not to quit Count. My Lord Chamberlain, I will not enWhat means did they employ to bring about my this place, though I should remain here until tofallas yet I know not, but neither do I care. I will take my own measures; in a struggle for morrow morning, though I should remain a week existence all means are good. I quit not the pal-bearance between you and me. or a month. There can no longer be any forI am determined ace: the Duchess shall know that the Grand Chamberlain is her son's Secret Agent. Ha! to declare to her Highness who it is that has crept into the confidence of the Duke; I will prove to her, my Lord Chamberlain, that YOU were the Duke's Secret Agent. here he is! SCENE THE NINTH. Chamberlain, (with a paper in his hand, starts back when he sees the Count.) Your Excellency still here? If her Highness the Duchess comes to know it-her anger-! Count. After what has happened this evening, her anger can no longer affect me. Chamberlain. May I inquire your Excellency's object in remaining here? Count. To speak to the Duchess! When she is calm, she cannot refuse her prime minister an audience. Chamberlain. Her prime minister, certainly, but-(he looks over the paper.) Chamberlain. Are you in earnest? Would Secret Agent? I should not have expected this you stoop to bring so false an accusation? I tho from your Excellency! I have not betrayed you, it is you who are the Secret Agent. but the Duchess learned this very evening, that deed, my Lord Chamberlain,-but it will avail Count. I the Secret Agent? Very clever inyou nothing; I will bring forward the necessary proofs ! SCENE THE TENTH. George, (coming from the Duke's private apart ments.) His Highness is inquiring for my Lord | courtier hesitates, and shyly asks if he may ven Chamberlain. Chamberlain. Highness? Immediately! Where is his George. He will be in his cabinet in a few moments. He is speaking with his Secret Agent [George goes out. Chamberlain, (in great astonishmeut.) With his Secret Agent? Count, (equally astounded.) With his Secret Agent? Chamberlain. But it is you who are his Secret Agent? Count. No, the Secret Agent is yourself! Chamberlain. God be good to us! This is worse and worse! So now there are three Secret Agents! If things go on in this way, there will soon be nothing public left at this court. But I must go to his Highness! (Hurries towards the cabinet.) ture to communicate her wish to the Duke. "A wish!" she exclaims; it is my command! And why announce it to the Duke?" "That the order may proceed direct from his highness," is the Chamberlain's reply. The duchess takes the hint; her power is gone,-the game is lost. She is about to depart for her villa, there to sulk at leisure; but her son gracefully and affectionately urges her to remain, and insists that she has freely and willingly given up to him that which he has in reality won in spite of her utmost opposition. But to the court and to the whole country the contrary shall be made to appear. The duchess, despite her somewhat harsh and imperious character, cannot but be touched by this dutiful and friendly conduct on the part of her son, and perhaps is still more moved by the advantage of having her retreat covered and her discomfiture concealed. So Count. And that paper? It is now all a mis-mother and son are again on the best of terms, understanding! and the former consents to the union of the Chamberlain. I must deliver it to the Duke. Duke and Eugenie; and the departure of the Count, (falling into an arm-chair.) Then I am Secret Agent is announced. He leaves everylost! [Curtain falls. body indebted to him and loud in his praise. The reader may be told in few words the con- In a paper left for the Duke, he spoke with tents of the fifth and shortest act, in which all warmth of Count Steinhausen's long services things are satisfactorily wound up. The best and fidelity; and in consequence of his recomscene in it is between Count Steinhausen and mendation, the Duke names the Ex-Premier his his nephew. Oscar bitterly reproaches his uncle Master-of-the-Horse. Oscar, who begs his uncle's with having planned his marriage with a woman pardon, has also been spoken well of, and rewhom he well knew to be in love with himself. ceives a diplomatic appointment; and the Grand The duchess, on learning that she had been Chamberlain, who had ordered the water-works fighting against a shadow, thinks for a moment to play for the entertainment of the Secret that she may perhaps again grasp the reins of Agent, is thanked by the Duke for the attention power; but it is too late. The Duke has lost no he had shown to his friend, and assured of his time. Agreeably with her written request, he favor and good will. The termination is as neat has already appointed new ministers; and just and pointed as the whole play is piquant and as the duchess inquires of the Grand Chamber- amusing. Our British playwrights draw largely lain if he had delivered her memorandum to her on the French stage; but, when Germany pro son, the sound of joy-bells is heard, and a mili- duces such comedies as that of Mr. Hackländer, tary band plays in the distance. The formation it surely would be worth their while to makę an of a popular ministry is the cause of these dem- occasional foray across the Rhine. And, for the onstrations, which jar upon the nerves of the sake of English play-goers, it is to be hoped that duchess, who orders the Chamberlain to put an when they do so, the first capture they make immediate end to them. The experienced old may be that of The Secret Agent." From the Pottsville Gazette. THE BURNING MOUNTAIN. of 1,320,000 tons of coal consumed by this fire. It originated in 1838, from fire burning THROUGH the politeness of Mr. J. Maginnis at the mouth of the mine which ignited the we have been favored with a more full history timber work sustaining the roof of the drift, of the burning coal vein on broad Mountain and was thus carried to the coal within the than any we remember to have seen before. mine. Two men who were in the drift, beThe fire is in the Jugular vein, which at that yond the fire, at the time, were suffocated. place varies in thickness from 40 to 80 feet; Thus far, since the coal ignited, there have the height of the breast through which the fire been no efforts made to extinguish it. This has passed, averages about 300 feet; and the was owing to the great expense attending, longitudinal extent it has consumed is about if not the utter impossibility of flooding it. 3-8 of a mile. Thus making a mass of solid This difficulty was occasioned by the fire startcoal averaging 60 feet in thickness, 300 feet ing some 15 feet above water level, and havin height, and 3-8 of a mile in length. This, ing a breast of 300 feet above that yet, to allowing a cubic yard to equal a ton, which is reach with water, before it could be completethe received standard here, gives the quantity ly drowned out. Any efforts now to extinguish the fire would tants of the larger ones. It is true that it does be comparatively unimportant, as it is at not do up things as magnificently as they are present confined within narrow limits, and done at Vesuvius, or Etna, yet, considering cannot possibly greatly extend its ravages; the high price of fuel, it would scarcely be for on the N. E. it is in close proximity to a worth while to attempt a competition to any deep ravine, through which passes a small greater extent. stream that will flood all below its level when the fire reaches it; and on the S. W. end, Mr. L. C. Dougherty, several years ago, mined all above water level until the fire was met. There is an incident connected with this, worth narrating: The miners employed by Mr. Dougherty knew, by the unusual heat, that for some time they had been working in the neighborhood of the fire, yet to save as much coal as possible, they kept on day after day mining in the direction of the fire; and their labors were persisted in to the very meeting of it, for the last charge of powder was almost instantly ignited by the heat of the coal into which the hole was drilled. Continually, during the drilling of this hole, it was feared they would reach the red-hot coal, and when they had finally driven it as far as they deemed safe, a cartridge was thrust in the boring and rammed home, and the miners ran to places of safety, to await the explosion. In a very short time this took place, and the partition of black coal was completely torn away, bringing with it in its fall an enormous mass in a burning state. From the excessive heat the fire spread rapidly along the timbers, and this, together with the rush of gas from the before imprisoned fire, so rapidly filled the mine that the workman barely escaped. To this burning vein there are some six or eight craters from which vapor and gas are thrown off, but owing to the number of these vents and to the fractured condition of the surface in general, which allow the escape of these gasses at so many points, we have no rapid and considerable jotting at any one place in regular volcano style; yet, if all that escapes was discharged through one aperture, our broad mountain volcano would make more display, and, consequently, attract more attention. At some points where the surface has fallen in, by going to the brink, we have been told, the fire at a great distance below can be seen, yet owing to the fallen earth and to the mass of ashes lying on the fire, it is mostly concealed. Likewise in addition to fire and smoke, we have those sounds common to volcanoes. We are informed that the bursting of rocks underneath, from excessive heat, sounds to a person on the hill like distant, heavy discharges of artillery, and at the foot of the hill there is a small spring of water that comes from near the burning mass, and is heated to a temperature too great for comfortable bathing. Thus our little volcano has most if not all the concomi From the Discipline of Life, "I will lead them in the paths they have not known." How few who, from their youthful day, In colors soft, and bright, and free. The eager hearts, the souls of fire, Who pant to toil for God and man; The upland way of toil and pain; A lowlier task on them is laid,- For God, through ways they have not known, The gentle heart that thinks with pain, Would ask but pathway low and still. And they, the bright, who long to prove, What matter what the path shall be? The end is clear and bright to view; |