The Sun.
London, England, 1832-03-26 00:00:00

" AL ENCON.

" He will be here anon.
For as I rode, I pass'd him with his train, •
The gath'ring crowd thronging and clamouring
Around him, stunning him with benedictions,
And stifling him with love and fumes of garlick
He, with the air he knows so well to don,
With cap in hand, and his thick chestnut hair
Fann'd from his forehead, bowing to his saddle,
Smiling and nodding, cursing at them too
For hindering his progress—while his eye,
His eagle eye, well vers'd in such discernment,
Rov'd through the crowd ; and ever lighted, where
Some pretty arcle, clad in woollen hose,
Peep'd from beneath a short round petticoat,
Or where some wealthy burgher's buxom dame,
Deck'd out in all her birth-day splendour, stood
Showing her gossips the gold chain, which lay
Cradled upon a bosom, whiter far
Than the pure lawn that kerchieft it."

But, decidedly, the most poetic passage in the
whole play, is the following. It comes with
exact propriety from the lips of a chivahous war-
rior, who is himself just going forth to battle.

" BOURBON.
Aye, see the sun, that gorgeous conqueror,
Upon the western gate of heav'n cloth halt."
" PESC
" A conqu'ror call you him, Bourbon ?"
" BOURBON.

" Ay, marry.
Hath he not ridden forth, as though to battle,
Armed with ten thousand darts of living flame ?
Hath he not, in his journey 'thwart the sky
Encounter'd and o'ercome each gloomy cloud,
Each fog, or noisome vapour, that i' th' air
Hover'd, like foul rebellion, to put out
His glorious light; and having conquer'd them,
Hath he not forced them don his livery,—
The amber glow,—that all he looks on wears ?
And now, behold, he stands on the last verge
Of his career, and looks back o'er his path,
Mark'd with a ruddy hue, how like a conqueror !
Now sinks he in that glowing mass of light,
Which he hath fired ; and look, Pescara, yonder
Comes on the night, who draws her sable veil
Over the whole ; and this bright pageantry,
This gorgeous sunset, and this glorious sun,
Shall he forgotten in to-morrow's dawning
So comes in death, and so oblivion falls
Over the mighty of the earth !"

We might have multiplied our extracts, but
enough have been already given to spew that
Miss Kemble is gifted in no ordinary degree
with thought, fancy and feeling. We may add
that she possesses the rare merit of having stu-
died in a good school. There are no affectations
of style or sentiment--though here and there
we detect something like bombast—nothing, in
short, that should forbid us hazarding the pre-
diction that so far as women can make good dra-
matists, she will one day produce a sterling tra-
gedy.

Mr. Galt, the celebrated author of " The An-
nals of the Parish," and of " Laurie Todd," has, we under-
stand, a new novel to appear in a few days, under the title of
" Stanley Buxton, or the Schoolfellows." The plan of the
novel is understood to be very favourable to the peculiar genius
of the writer. Two individuals, who had been playmates at
school, meet in after age, and relate to each other their sepa-
rate adventures, and the means by which they advanced them-
selves in life. Nothing could have been better adapted to dis-
play the vein of shrewd, familiar humour, and actual details of
which Galt is, of all novelists, the greatest master.

ASSAULT EXTRAORDINARIL—A warrant
has been issued against a popular actress of a new and fashion-
able theatre, at the instance of the female servant of a house in
the Quadrant, in which she at present resides. The charge is,
that the lady drenched the maid tvith the water of her own
pail, because she refused to give up the scrubbing of the stairs
at the time when a distinguished visitor was momentarily ex-
pected. The parties are to be heard to-day, and we apprehend
that the case, if gone into, will produce some amusement for
those who relish a tale of domestic squabble.

A contempt of poverty and of economy is
one of the most sublime of Christian virtues. The Archbi-
shop of Canterbury says, " No wise man would place himself
in the situation of a Bishop if it were necessary that he should
pay daily attention to minute economy." This sovereign con_
ing's exquisite satire in his novel of " Amelia." The prospe-
o us fi
tempt of economy and its
dyopfair,eansthilo,onv,e"rt:,, hiriemisincommittedr
i eflot
murdering
apaay ~ in,
ramour, enters Newgate with a supercilious
contemptg of the poor inmates, and proudly observes, " Thank
God, 1 don't come here from poverty."
LAMENTABLE DEATIL-The family of Mr.
Williams, residing at Camberwell, who for many years held the
situation of chief cashier in the house of Duckett, Morlands,
and Co., the late bankers, were on Friday thrown into much
alarm by the unexpected death of Mrs. Williams, who, affected
by the embarrassments of the house, became suddenly ill, but
rallied rather from the first shock which her feelings received,
and was gradually improving up to Friday morning (the day
on which the first meeting of Messrs. Duckett's creditors was
held), when she suddenly relapsed, and in the course of the day
expired under a severe spasmodic attack,