The Sun.
London, England, 1837-12-25 00:00:00

THE FUNDS.-(THIS DAY.)

CITY, TWELVE O'CLOCK.
This being Christmas Day is a close holiday in the City.
The Bank, Lloyd's, and most of the coffee-houses are shut.
Saturday last was a very heavy day with the bankers, in con-
sequence of the number of bills becoming due on Christmas
Day having to be paid on that day.
The civil war in Canada at present engrosses the attention
of the public, and particularly the merchants connected with
Montreal and Quebec. Although there is no doubt of the
success of Colonel Wetherall at St. Charles, still very great
anxiety prevails for further arrivals, to ascertain what occurred
after the affair of St. Charles, and if Colonel Wetherall had
received reinforcements and advanced again to the attack of
the insurgents.
In the absence of further intelligence from Canada our
Funds are much agitated, as reports of various descriptions
will be continually afloat for sinister views, against which we
caution the public.
The Consol Market was much depressed on Saturday, and
closed very heavy with a decline from the opening price in
the morning of 93i- to 91i for the opening; but we have
hopes that this serious depression in the British Market will
soon be stopped by the arrival of more favourable accounts.
We have received New Brunswick papers to Nov. 26.
Various military movements were in progress, with the view
of forwarding troops to Canada. A portion of the 85th regi-
ment had arrived at Halifax ; a detachment of the 433 had
proceeded for Canada, and the second detachment, under the
command of Captain Egerton, had embarked for Fredericton.
Cape of Good Hope Papers to the 29th of October have
been received. We learn that the Fingoes on the border oc-
casioned much uneasiness. Many head of cattle bad been
taken by the Caffres. The Lieutenant-Governor had esta-
blished a new settlement for Hottentots on the river Blink-
water. The other settlements were going on well.
The New Brunswick papers to the 25th November mention
the arrival of the first division of the troops from Halifax,
under the command of Colonel Manswell, who had met with
the greatest attention from the inhabitants on the line of
march. The second division had passed through St. John's.
The detachment of the 43d regiment, under the command of
Captain Bell, reached Fredericktown on Sunday last. A
second detachment, under the command of Captain Egerton,
marched through St. John's to Indian Town, where they em-
barked on board the steamer Gazelle, for Fredericktown.

The Norfolk Chronicle has published an au-
thorized contradiction to the statement which has appeared in
some of the London Prints, that the Marquis of Douro and
the Hon. IL C. Scarlett will not defend their seats in the
House of Commons. "In fact" say our friends of the Chro-
nicle, "the most eminent Counsel are already engaged on their
behalf ; their agents and friends in this city having long been
assiduously employed in making the necessary preparations.
Under these circumstances it will
be the obvious and acknow-
ledged duty of all true Conservatives in this city to be vigilant
and indefatigable in communicating to the friends of the
Members any information which can be of use, either in defence
of the Noble Marquis and his Hon. Colleague against the al-
legations so foully brought against them, or in exposing the
vile and audacious system of aggressive corruption practised by
the immaculate party of the petitioners, on the reformed'
constituency of Norwich." The country at large and the
respectable remnant of the electors of this city who were
neither among the corruptors nor the corrupted, will have
good cause to rejoice in this determination, though perhaps it
may not be quite unalloyed with regret. For where is the
man, be his principle or party what they may--where is the
British subject to be found who will not lament in the language
of Mr. O'Connell to see the family honours of the Duke of
Wellington " dragged through the kennel" by the full dis•
closure of the transactions of the last Norwich election.
Aorivich Mercury.

HOW TO VENTILATE THE HOUSE OF
COMMONS.
" Mr. Wakley said that he had suffered severely in consequence
of the close state of the atmosphere in the House of Commons,
and nothing should induce him to retain his seat, unless means
were adopted for obtaining fresh air."—Vide Saturday's Debate.

Never heed, friend Wakley, what Doctors say
Of the foul air inhaled by night and day,
When worn with fatigue, and relax'd with heat,
You fidget, or 101 l full-length on your scat ;
Never heed their nostrums to cure this ill,
For they're all as bad as a Morrison pill :
There needs (sure remedy to effect)
Nor Doctor, Surveyor, nor Architect ;
Their skill can never supply fresh air
To crowded lobby, and house, and stair—
No, Benjamin only, young Vivian Grey,
By his gesture and speech can this nuisance stay !
So set him from night to night a-talking,
And you'll instantly set the House ;
Whig, Tory, and Radical by the score
Will fly from their seats post-haste to the door,
And as they rush out with clattering din,
The cool, fresh air you need, will rush in;—
So set Ben talking, 'twill be your salvation,
And produce you the requisite ventilation,
For how can you be with foul air cursed,
When the house is empty—the mob dispersed?

HOW TO ACCOUNT FOR SIR EDWARD

CODRINGTON'S HEAD-ACHE.

" Sir E. Codrington could assure the House that he never !ten;
to rest, after a lengthened sitting in that House, without a painful
head-ache."— Vide Saturday's Debate.

Sir Edward complains that on seeking his bed,
After leaving the House, he has pains in his head ;
Sure 'tis matter of course he should be in such plight,
When he listens to Sibthorp full three times a night

TIIC COAL-HOAL TAVERN, STRAND.--Ants
old established and favourite place of public resort, seems to
higher estimation than ever, if we may judge from the number
of visitors of the highest respectability, who nightly meet here
for the purpose of enjoying the unrivalled Harmonic meetings.
The excellence of the singing, and the manner in which it 19
conducted, must necessarily place this establishment as the first
of the kind in London.
The French Government has recently forwarded
through the Admiralty a handsome gold medal to Lieutenant
William James, R.N., commanding her Majesty's steamer
Echo, in the West Indies, for having, a few winters since, on
the coast of Cornwall, during a snow storm, swam off in the
night through a heavy sea, to the Bon Pere, wrecked near the
port of Falmouth ; when, by means of a rope which he broughton shore in his mouth, the whole of the crew, thirteen in
number, were saved. A gold medallion was also awarded to
him at the time for this act of humanity, by the Society for
the Preservation of Lives from Shipwreck.

ROBBERY.—One night last week, as tt Old Tom
Coupland," of St. Botolph, Lincoln, who had ever been a
noted and undaunted enemy to the game laws, was passing
along a public way in the parish of Bracebridge, he was un-
ceremoniously accosted by a neighbouring captain, to whom he
had long been an expert rival in the sports of the preserves,
when the following preparatory dialogue took place :—"
fellow, you are here again are you? I suppose you are out
for your old pranks, poaching." " Well, an' what if I be, I
be'n't on yar grounds ; nor what's more, yaa wea'n't catch me
there ; for there ar'n't eno' on the whole lordship to pay Me
for a night's work." " Don't be saucy, fellow or I'll seize:
Na., but you wca'n't now, for I'm on the public way.
" We'll see," resumed the gallant captain, and collaring old
Tom, a severe struggle took place, in the course of which old
Tom's nocturnal apparatus and a portion of his jacket, fell into
the possession of the captain, and the front of the captain's
waistcoat, was transferred to the hands of old Tom. The
matter, however, did not exactly end here; for both becoming
excited by their respective losses, a struggle was made for the
mastery, and like two enraged cats on the ridge of house, both
rolled down the bank within a yard of the river, and it Wag
only for their mutual protection from a cold bath, that a truce
took place, and each marched off with his respective booty.

THE BALLOT.—The Berwick Advertiser, in
speaking of a meeting of the inhabitants of that borough, in
the Town-hall, for the purpose of considering the expediency
of petitioning both Houses of Parliament in favour of the
adoption of the Ballot on occasions of Parliamentary elec-
tions, remarks—" It went off in the best style ; and while it
reflects credit on the Committee of the Reform Association
for the manner in which it was got up, bears open testimony.
to the sound principle, the zeal, and the judicious conduct of
the Reformers of Berwick, who mustered in numbers and in
respectability sufficient to convince the most sceptical of the
lofty pre-eminence of the Reform cause when the uncon-
strained, unbought, and undebauched opinion can be expressed
apart from those debauching influences which are let loose' in
debasing the intellect and in prostituting the judgment by
competing canvassers on the eve of an eleetion of a Parliamen-
tary Representative. The whole proceeding, from the first
origination of the movement to the public demonstration on
Wednesday, proves that the inhabitants of Berwick groan for
deliverance from that mass of corruption by which their poli-
tical character has been debased, and a portion of their moral
character contaminated ; and that they rejoice in the prospect
of deliverance from an incubus which they well know would
go far, if allowed to run its course, of stifling the breathings
of freedom in the town, and of sinking the hopes of the
nation under the most degrading bondage. Never was more
unanimity displayed at a meeting—never was any meeting Of
any borough more respectably, and, we may add, numerously
attended, in comparison with its size."
THE LATE DUCHESS OF ST. ALBAN'S.—There
has been an erroneous statement that Miss Mellon 'was net
acquainted with the family of Mr. Coutts until after be
married her; but a Correspondent of the Essex Herald Ws
—Those whose play-going memories extend thirty years back,
may remember Miss Mellon being frequently seen in the
private box with his family at Drury-Lane, between the in-
tervals of the play ; and her professional contemporaries were
often amused by telegraphic signals of his grandchildren
during her acting. In Little Russell-street her humble
neighbours used to reckon as a matter of curiosity the
number of carriages at her door, and to watch the
daughters of Mr. Coutts (then Marchionness of Bute,
Countess of Guildford, and Lady Burdett) calling to COs
the young actress. A love of " patronizing" seems t 2
prevailed in this family. Mr. Coutts, who was an ec-
centric, strangely romantic poor old soul, would ~,freq-
uently adopt the interests of some poor family, throng-
chance or whim, and never cease until he had placed the°
all in situations too high for their qualifications, through e'rerY,
obstacle, and in spite of every remonstrance. From a similaa
amiable feeling, perhaps, his three admirably.conducte
daughters were intimate with the humble industrious actrestg;
whose extreme propriety of conduct gave them no cause th
repent it. Whatever were her ulterior views (on the deal
of the first Mrs. Coutts, and it must be supposed she cae:
culated on being her successor), the decorum and rod
spectful conduct of Miss Mellon to Mr. Coutts, indite of
every one to suppose she was an illegitimate daughter.„-r.
her benefactor, who was more than forty years her seeliji
The marriage, when be was long past eighty, was evideeith,
an act of dotage—a. means of bestowing unbounded we,,are.
without giving ground for slander, on the woman who be' her
sisted temptation from many quarters, in order to secure
et,
singular exaltation througk his high estimate of her conanthe
After the first shock of hearing the old gentleman's follY, all
family gradually became reconciled ; and since his deceasebo
have lived on most intimate terms with the widow, who, sr,.
wound up her strange eventful history as Duchess of
to
Alban's, leaving the whole wealth to the Coutts' familYt 1
whom it was derived.
f lb°
Saturday afternoon, about two o'clock, a man °ti net
name of Keene, employed on the Hambro' Wharf, OPOe
Thames-street, adjoining Southwark Iron Bridge, esrl
lowering, by means of a crane, bales of wool into ;eight
below, was suddenly precipitated into the street from a doe!
of at least forty feet, and fell on to the stones with trenie and
violence. Some persons immediately raised him 1313;iscer.
conveyed him to St. Thomas's Hospital, /where it Iten.igl
tamed that the unfortunate man had received such out, 3311
injuries that his life is in danger. He is a married
has three children. ,5
On Saturday an inquest was held at the 1331 new-
Head, New-road, before Mr. Stirling, on the body oh'e hong°
born male infant, which was found in the privy of It. Joh's
of Mr. Jones, surgeon, No. 2, Portland-terrace, i%d_toWn:
Wood. Thomas Ashby, undertaker, No. 2, Pert4B,,slnestlaii
stated that he knew the mother of the child. On 'in biro It
' last Mr. Havert, assistant to Mr. Jones, cone au"'
asked him if he could provide a coffin for a still-bo_nd otir
which was at Mr. Jones's house. He went thereto,' what
the mother, and on his not seeing the child, asked fon
she had done with it ; she said she had clelivere
throWn
the
the Saturday, and on the following morning
had
rt wag
down the privy ; and that Mr. Charlea
Haevewith Ott cL.
father. He immediately acquainted the Pahcreceived a °in,
cumstance, and heard no more of it till
_in_spie, surged
mons to attend the inquest. Patrick
,unte
request he vise on
No. 69, Lisson-grore, said, at Mr.
j"esbat when alnlead,
the mother of the child, who
saidl
itld, which was round
Saturday she was delivered of
a cor three tinle Havert,
the naval-string being twisted two
the father, shim, ;he
its neck. About half an hour after
she told 13111.4 the
his master's assistant, came down,
ashen
and took it intoiow it
he put it and the afterbirth into a
pal reornine'. and . here
back kitchen ; she s,csot up the next
seen the child, which, ether
down the privy. He had sincke,
he could not tell wnof
the
marks of pressure round the necha'd
known instances °f
it was born alive or not ;
the neck, neck, and causing stitr having'
navel-string twisting round
full grown child. The J
child Was
lion and death. It was a
d
a verdict, " That the
d hersel .t
et there.
viewed the body, ,_°r el
rove • buf that tne Cc,
on
wag not sufficient evidence to p
ere very rcpr ue
found indecently
assistant is
the mother and of Mr. Jones's
the birth." 9fter-
in endeavouring to conceal _uesday
the
fallen since last T
t, n towards that
So much rain has
der, tv,st), that
on the following So itb- " d low
noon (particularly
exilioesteud7butwhether born alive
u then •es an
banks, and the 's Ciao
the rivers have overflown their
water.--/Voje
lands arc now completely under
evening there was a violent gale froi
the 9 side.

LITERATURE.

WALLACE; A TRAGEDY.

This tragedy was composed about eighteen years ago,
and was only published a few months since, by Messrs.
y '-'°llgman and Co. It is the production of Murdo
"'lug, Proprietor and Editor of The Sun, and for
these reasons has not, of course, been noticed in this
Juurnal_and wherefore now ? Simply for this con-
sideration : it has been suggested by a friend that, as
zany of the liberal sentiments advocated by the con-
ductors of the True Sun and supported by its readers
had been entertained by the Author eighteen years
ago, and acted upon ever since, it might be gratifying
t 0 his new readers to learn that, in supporting The
'Sun, they do not forego their own principles, but, on
the contrary, stimulate their influence by aiding a
flan who is not now likely to forsake that straight-for-
bard course of independence which it has ever been
his pride, but not always his interest or comfort, to
pursue.
MoNTerru.—
The daring spirit of the Northi dead,
Or only lives to haunt her children's dreams.
The patriot wakens in a land of slaves,—
Where party-jealousies and bloody feuds
Are still fomented by designing traitors,
Our greatest barons court the oppressor's smiles
With such humility, that Edward marvels
How Henry paused with England at his back—
And saw a Sovereign on the Scottish throne
Too proud to pay him homage.
WALLACE.— I could tell him !
With this true sword whose temper ne'er deceived me—
I could tell Edward that our sires were men
Who gloried in their birthright. Men who flew
Like rock-bred eagles to the song of battle ;
And hailed the naighty Conflict in their souls
With the stern joy that freedom's warriors feel.
They rush'd triumphant, like the mountain torrent
Exulting in its foam.—You must not marry.
(To Kirkpatrick.)

EXTRACTS.

I fear

ELIZA.—Not marry ?
WALLACE._ No !.—while Scotland is enslaved.
No man should marry till his country's free :
But let the sword of vengeance Le till then
His blushing bride I—Are we in Caledonia
And see the stranger stalk along her fields
As if they were his own ?-0 memory !
Why didst thou widow hope wheu I was born,
And make me turn from dark futurity
To gaze upon thy picture, bright with glory ?
But what is Scotland now ?—Unhappy land !
Would my brave countrymen but feel their shame,
And once abate that discord of opinion,
Which mars the only good true wisdom aims at—
Then would the cause of Independence rear
Its victor crest ; and see its joyous bands
Chase those proud spoilers from our ravaged country,
Or crush them in their strength.

SCENE 111.
* * o a o o
CRAiIAI.I.—• Floremma, where is Wallace?
PLoRKmmA. —You cannot find him in this thundering storm.
%ARAI!. Speak not of storms, but tell me where he is.
ELlzA.—Be not impatient, gentle Graham ; but wait

Till morning—
CRARAM.— What?-
401tEMMA.—Thestorm increases,—hark I ( Thunder.)
That awful peal might daunt the bravest spirit;
And sober even madness. There 1 (Lightning.) 0 Graham!
The harbinger of heaven forbids your daring—
And frowns—
GRAHAM.— Away !—the fears of womanhood.—
That is the torch of heaven to light my path—(Another
And that deep thunder is the voice of God peal.)
Cheering the patriots' valour on to battle !
What should I fear when Caledonia calls,
And heaven's red standard floats unfurl'd—to arms I
My soul is mighty in the joyous hope
Of living glory, and my country's freedom.
But now I dream :—O Wallace 1 wert thou here—
PLohmstala.—l would he were, to pacify your temper :
For he is calm as midnight solitude
In silent caves.
RLIZA.— Yet have I seen him moved—
Like the deep ocean warring with the tempest;
And mock at danger.
Danger damps not him,—
Nursed with the eagles by the blasts of heaven :
And in the wild sublimity of joy,
Responding to their music !--
FLOREMAIA.— He is brave I
GRAHAM.—And tender too.—l wish he were thy husband.
Nay, blush not. It would give me such delight
As woman feels when singled from a group
Of rival beauties, by a monarch's favour.—
* a

GitAnAm.—Novr tell me, where is Wallace ?
PLORE. A. Stay, 'tis dark.
I'll send a guide.
GRAHAM.— Go, lead the blind I Floremma.
I want no guide. Name but his resting place—
If mountain, vale, moor, wood, or misty stream,
The haunt of witching elves at shadowy eve :
Or wizard cave, where midnight demons murmur
Their nameless orgies in the ear of silence,—
• • • •

I know each scene of wild romantic beauty,
Where magic breathes, or strains of rapture break
On wonder's ear—amid the solitude.
I know each scene of popular tradition,
Vcil'd by the hallow'd wing of mystery—
And peopled by the spirits of our fathers,
Who, bending from yon purple cloud of vengeance,
Call forth their children to the battle field.
Ft OREIiII4A.—I tremble at the fancy.
Et .12A. So do I.
CE.RAHAISI.—So do not I I—So never trembled Wallace,
Endeared by danger's emulous adventures,
Familiar in the page of memory,
But where is he ?

PLOREIIidA. Closo by the bill of storms I
C•am-AJl.—Ten is he safe I—The torrent's leaping foam
Shall light ma thither. Fare you well ;—but mind—
Speed with the dawn, and sound the name of Wallace,
Joined with revenge and Scotland's independence 1
And nen will arm who never dreamed of battle—
And maids will weep 'twixt love and patriotism,
But hush their fears when Wallace waves his sword ;
And boys will burn to march beneath his banner,—
For I have seen him kiss them when but babes,
And weep such beauty born to be enslaved ! ( Going.)
41.LOREMMA.—(Detaining him) 0 speak on still 1 'tis musicfor

the soul.
PGRene.m.—Yes, I have seen him weep when others smiled
To see the peasant lead his blushing bride
From Hymen's altar, to beget more slaves !
Then would deep feelings hurry him away
From human haunts, to roam the mountain wilds,
And startle nature in her stormy dwelling.
There would ho mark the eagle's sweep through heaven
And wish for liberty's proud wings to follow.
Then turn from throned sublimity, to gaze
On God's creation stretch'd immense around—
And ask what curse denounced the lord of all
To be the slave of Edward's damn'd oppression (Eveun

SCENE IV.-A WOOD: WITH PRECIPITOUS ROCKS AND

CATARACT IN THE REAR.
(WALLACE, KIRKPATRICK, LuNDIE, and others discovered on
the skirt of the wood ; and men behind.)
XIRKPATRICK.—Our wrongs are great. I dare not name my

woes I
The wretch whose tongue can garnish out his sorrow
With apt expression, feels not grief like mine.
I have no words to set my anguish forth.
I 'm like a king—supreme in misery—
But scorning pity 1—
WAar,AcE. Pity dwells not here !
We ask no pity, and we give no quarter.
Enter GRAHAM.
'914. HAM.--That's bravely spoken;-I'm your friend till death.
*AL. td,c E. —Welcome the Graham I
Enter MmerErrll.
koNTEt,Tu. —Undaunted Wallace, hear me
a English army is in quest of you,
Bei lied by Cressingham, the fiery priest ;
Wh o sets a price of value on your head—
i)et muncing all as traitors who befriend you.
f II
reps.—Then we are traitors all !
1:;1eN behind.)— And so are we !
Ar,
-T. kcp,.—Thankg, countrymen ! my spirit weeps for joy.
I lee the dawn of Scotland's independence
eron in your eyes and lighten in your swords
( Kneeling) Almighty God ! whose vengeance sleeps not
.ever, (All kneel.)
Lleatem my fallen country from her bondage,
knd break the oppressor's spear. In us behold
Thy willing servants :—in so good a cause

We do invr‘ke thy bles:;ne: on our arms !
I feel thy spirit burning in my soul
To set my country free. (Rising.)
MONTEITH.—Friends, countrymen, I would propose de-
To any man who violates our faith. [struction
The priest's reward is great, and may tempt meanness
To quit the path of honour.
WALLACE.— Meanness dwells not
In freedom's band.—One heart we boast, and true.
Are we not true ?
THE CHIEFS.— True, true, true, true
( MEN behind.)—
WALLAcE.—AII true ! I said so.
MONTEITH.— I am satisfied.

True, true !

Lightning and deep thunder.—A dead pause.)
WALLACE.—Our prayer is ratified !—My countrymen I
Shall we be slaves, while ocean, earth, and air
Teem with unfettered being ?—Look around,—
And nature's works call out to man—Be free !
And shall creation's voice be heard in vain,
While God himself is present in the storm
To aid our cause ?—Behold, through nature's range,
Each several passion hath a fellow brother,
And kindred feeling. Love begets esteem,—
Joy gladness—and the throb of hope desire:
The tear of sorrow draws the sigh of pity,
And stern oppression quickens dread revenge.
Tread but the worm, it turns ; the dog, it bites,—
Prick the proud horse, he kicks; the bull pursues.
All true to nature, and as God bath made them :
All, all but man, the rebel 1 He alone
Mores on the earth, its glory and its shame !
Look at the slave—the image of his God,
Crouch in the dust before his brother man—
Degraded and degrading I—lashed with scorn
For mere excess of dastardly obedience,
And tame endurance :—wearing out his chain
Or sinking with it, buried where he falls—
To rise at last with thraldom's curse upon him,
And stand before his God I—lt must not be.
The people's murmur shall be heard and felt.
Man was not made to worship tyranny,
And shall he die its votary ?—To arms!
And shame the sons of Scotland to be free. (Exeunt.)
( SCENE, A HEATH—WALLACE MEETING BRUCE.)
• • a r •
WALLACE.-0 Bruce ! can indignation hold
To meet my King—a wanderer—and alone—
Where he should reign with freemen pressing round him I
BRUCE.—That day may come; but 'tis not yet—
WALLACE.— At hand

This is the day. Your people are in arms,
And rush with ardour on the scattered foe,
In town and castle—storming all before them.
BRUCIL—Oh, may Heaven prosper those who would be free 1
Nature revolts at bondage. The poor slave,
To hide his degradation from himself,
Imagines scenes of liberty by day,
Which he enjoys in slumber's chainless vision—
And is a man again l—You are impatient :
Well—so am I ; but dare not join you now.
My life is pledged upon a quick return,
And I must speed ; or some will suffer for me
Whose lives I hold more precious than my own.

Now God be with you I—You will hear from me.
(Going.)
WALLACE.—Actions, not words, we want to fight our battles.
Stay, Bruce, a moment—since you will not join us.
BRUCE.—You know I cannot, Wallace I—Press no more.
WALLACE.—Have you a heart can bear the stamp of shame ?
(Floremma and Eliza passing the heath at the
head of the peasantry.)
Behold the daughters of the North in arms!
Urging the warriors or. with bosoms bare 1
Go, Bruce, and tell your master that you saw them,
And England's daughters will pluck out your eyes,
To save such sights in future 1 They will scorn you—
For beauty's heart is brave as well as tender.
Behold a living proof—to shame your manhood,
And animate the dust 1
BRUCE.-- What can I do?
Wo.m.scs.—Say, Bruce, what can you not? Would you be
Display some other title to that honour, [King?
Superior to your lineage. Draw the sword,
Like me your subject, and my brave compatriots :
Assert your liberty, and mount the throne 1
BRUCE.—You know my inability.
WALLACE.—

I know
You have the means, but want the heart to use them.
Aro you a Scot? By heaven 1 you wrong the name.
To tie the tyrant's chain about your neck,
And look in Edward's face without a blush
Your tameness maddens me 1— What can you do ?
Behold that heath as still as midnight slumber ;
But let the breeze with kissing welcome rise—
And every stalk in emulation dances
Harmonious to its music !—So would Scotland
Start up in arms—to see her monarch wave
The stirring banner of departed freedom
O'er hill and vale of martial memory 1
0

FLOREMMA.—My mind was wandering through infinity ;
But holding one dear object still in view
That might not be o'ertaken. Yet my heart
Could still pursue—though certainty for ever
Denied its fond possession to my hope—
So much am I enchanted.
ELIZA.— Wallace stlil !
But we shall meet him soon again, Floremma.
FLOREMMA.—He's ne'er so much with me as when he's abseil'
When I'm alone—then he indeed is with me,
The guest of mind arrayed in fancy's glory !
Oh, then I bless him in my soul's enjoyment
Dwelling upon his look, voice, motion, being—
That all the nameless attributes of love
That first enchant—then sway the willing heart !
Sleeping, imagination sees him still
As if he stood before me. In his presence
I cannot speak : The tumult of my breast
Denies me utterance, even on simple matters.
But when he speaks, I tremble through my soul
Listning in fond emotion to his voice.
Like quivering leaves kissed by the breath of heaven 1
Oh I 'tis a joy too deep in woman's heart
To trust the tongue with but you know it all.
• •
WALLACE. —Wo must dispose.—What think you of an ambush?
LUNDIE.—'TwiII never do.
WALLACE.— Then what would you propose ?
LUNDlE.—Nothing would please you ;—for my heart is sad.
WALLACE.-But victory will cheer it.—Now advise me.
LUNDIE.—Say, will you listen while I speak the truth ?
WALLACE..--d never am impatient then.

You are,
When truth runs counter to your wish fur battle.
WALLacs.—That wish will eease when we have freed our
I cannot bear to see a conqueror, here, [country.
And wear my sword.—
LUNDIIt. 'Twill be of little use.
I think it madness to hold out so long :
And deem submission, since vouchsafed with pardon,
The better course.
WALLACE (impatiently). —The bettor course—submission
And pardon too
LUND'S.— 'Twill spare much precious blood.
WALLACE.—Are you resolved ?
LUND'S.— On prudence and to spare—
I WALLace.—A freeman's life, to lose it as a slave I
Lursnie.—l will not be a slave.
WALLACE.-- What can you he,
If tyrant masters lord it o'er your country ?
Can you be free to move, or speak your mind,
While Edward's jealous sword hangs o'er your head ?
Lvriom—He lords it not so harshly as to thwart
Our proper bent or actions.
WALLACE. Lord it harshly !
Why should he lord at all ?—There's the curet sting
Which mocks forbearance with imbittered scorn.
LUNDIR.—We only bear the evil, for a time
Of retribution.
WALLACE. Now's the time I with me
--
The apprehension of reproof cuts more
Than just rebuke. What shall a tyrant thwart
Our proper actions in our native land?
The thought were slavery enough I
But, Wallace,
LUND'S.—
Our band is yet too weak : we start too soon.
War.r.AcE. Vie cannot start too soon to grasp at freedom,
And break our chains upon the oppressor's head.
Freedom's a thing too precious to be thought of,
And not enjoyed
Luisnre.— But if we start too soon,
We miss our aim, provoking greater vengeance
Upon our failure.
WALLACE-- Think not so, good Lundie.
The tyrant's wrath cannot o'ertako the brave
Who fall for freedom.
LUND'S.— But they who survive
Will feel his rage the more.
WALLACE.— And they'll deserve it—
If any base enough outlive his freedom,
Who said.—/ will be free. —You would not choose
To live a supple slave in your own lnd,
Boasting your father's independence—would you?
(TO BE CONTINUED. )

ION: A TRAGEDY.
Moron, London, 1837.
As this tragedy has reached a fourth edition—a
popularity which it well deserves—it is useless to ex-