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objectionable to each of the others,—but have adopted a variety of punishments, and the very variety which your own collective suffrage would fix upon, I have got myself equally deep into hot water; and the grand question is now, what shall I do? If I take the course suggested by you collectively, the result is the same. I see no other way but to take my own course, performing conscientiously my duties, in their time and after their manners, and then to demand of you, and all others, the right of being sustained.

Suund. (Jumping up.) Them is my sentiments, exactly. Ye see-I say-ye see-you go ahead, and-ye see—whip that little rascal of mine-ye see—just as much as you've a mind to.-(turning to the squire, who is rising,)—and you shall have this whip to do it with. (Handing it to the master.)

Mr. S. Well, gentlemen, my opinion is, that we have been tried and condemned by our own testimony, and there is no appeal. My judgment approves the master; and hereafter I shall neither hear nor make any more complaints. Jonas, (turning to Jonas,) my son, if the master is willing, you may go home and tell your mother to take off those poultices, and then do you come to school and do as you are told; and if I hear of any more of your complaints, I will double the dose you may receive at school.

Mrs. O'C. And sure, master, the wife of Paddy O'Clary is not the woman to resist authority in the new country; and bless your sowl, if you'll make my little spalpeen but a good boy, it's I that will kindly remember the favor, though ye make him swape until nixt Christmas. Here, Patrick, down upon the little knees of your own, and crave the master's forgiveness; for it's not Cathleen O'Clary—

Mas. No, madam; that I shall not allow. I ask no one to kneel to me. I shall only require that he correct his past faults, and obey me in future.

Mrs. O' C. It's an ungrateful child he would be, if ever again he should be after troubling so kind a master. St. Patrick bless ye. (Taking little Pat by the hand, they go out.)

Fos. (Taking the master by the hand, pleasantly.) Sir, I

hope I shall profit by this day's lesson. I have only to say, that I am perfectly satisfied we are all wrong; and that is, perhaps, the best assurance I can give you that I think you are right. That's all I have to say.

Saund. Right! right! neighbor Fosdick. We are all-ye see-we are all come out on the wrong side this time; ain't we, squire? I tell ye what, Mr. Schoolmaster,-'Miah Saunders never is ashamed to back out (suits the action, &c.,) when he's wrong. I says, I-ye see 'Miah Saunders is all for good order. Whip that boy of mine-ye see-as much as you please. I'll not complain again-ye see ;-whip him-says I--ye seewhip him, and I-tell ye-if 'Miah Saunders don't back ye up-then, ye see-may I be chosen president of-Cold Water Society. (Exeunt.)

THE CARDINAL'S EXCULPATION.-BULWER.

Richelieu. Room, my Lords, room! The minister of France Can need no intercession with the King.

(They fall back.)

Louis. What means this false report of death, Lord Cardinal?
Rich. Are you then angered, sire, that I live still?
Louis. No; but such artifice-

Rich. Not mine :-look.elsewhere!

Louis-my castle swarmed with the assassins.

Buradas (advancing). We have punished them already. Huguet now

In the Bastile.-Oh! my Lord, we were prompt

To avenge you—we were—

Rich. WE? Ha ha! you hear,

My liege! What page, man, in the last court grammar

Made you a plural? Count, you have seized the hireling :

Sire, shall I name the master?

Louis. Tush! my Lord,

The old contrivance :-ever does

your wit

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Whom Europe, paled before your glory, deems

Rival to Armand Richelieu?

Louis. What! so haughty!

Remember, he who made, can unmake.
Rich. Never!

Never! Your anger can recall your trust,
Annul my office, spoil me of my lands,
Rifle my coffers,-but my name-my deeds,
Are royal in a land beyond your sceptre!
Pass sentence on me, if you will; from Kings,
Lo, I appeal to Time! Be just, my liege-
I found your kingdom rent with heresies
And bristling with rebellion; lawless nobles
And breadless serfs; England fomenting discord;
Austria-her clutch on your dominion; Spain
Forging the prodigal gold of either Ind

To arméd thunderbolts. The Arts lay dead,
Trade rotted in your marts, your Armies mutinous,
Your Treasury bankrupt. Would you now revoke
Your trust, so be it! and I leave you, sole
Supremest Monarch of the mightiest realm,
From Ganges to the Icebergs :-Look without;
No foe not humbled! Look within; the Arts
Quit for your schools their old Hesperides,
The golden Italy! while through the veins
Of your vast empire flows in strengthening tides,
Trade, the calm health of nations!

Sire, I know

Your smoother courtiers please you best-nor measure Myself with them,-yet sometimes I would doubt

If statesmen, rocked and dandled into power,

Could leave such legacies to kings!

(LOUIS appears irresolute.)

Baradas (passing him, whispers). But Julie,

Shall I not summon her to court?

Louis (motions to BARADAS and turns haughtily to the Cardinal). Enough!

Your Eminence must excuse a longer audience.

To your own palace :-For our conference, this is
Nor place-nor season.

Rich. Good my liege, for Justice

All place a temple, and all season, summer!
Do

you deny me justice? Saints of heaven!

He turns from me! Do you deny me justice?
For fifteen years, while in these hands dwelt empire,
The humblest craftsman-the obscurest vassal―
The very leper shrinking from the sun,

Though loathed by Charity, might ask for justice!
Not with the fawning tone and crawling mien
Of some I see around you-Counts and Princes—
Kneeling for favors;-but, erect and loud,

As men who ask man's rights! my liege, my Louis,

Do you refuse me justice-audience even—

In the pale presence of the baffled Murder?

Louis. Lord Cardinal-one by one you have severed from ne The bonds of human love. All near and dear

Marked out for vengeance-exile, or the scaffold.
You find me now amidst my trustiest friends,

My closest kindred;—you would tear them from me;
They murder you, forsooth, since me they love.
Enough of plots and treasons for one reign!
Home! Home! and sleep away these phantoms!
Rich.

I

Sire!

-patience, Heaven! sweet Heaven!

Sire, from the foot

Of that Great Throne, these hands have raised aloft
On an Olympus, looking down on mortals

And worshipped by their awe-before the foot

Of that high throne,-spurn you the gray-haired man,
Who gave you empire-and now sues for safety?

Louis. No:-when we see your Eminence in truth
At the foot of the throne-we'll listen to you.

NOTHING IN IT-MATHEWS.

Leech But you don't laugh, Coldstream! Come, man, be

amused, for once in your life.

Sir Charles. O, yes, I do.

You don't laugh.

You mistake; I laughed twice, distinctly-only, the fact is, I am bored to death.

Leech. Bored? What! after such a feast as that you have given us? Look at me. I'm inspired. I'm a king at this moment, and all the world is at my feet.

Sir C. My dear Leech, you began life late. You are a young fellow,-forty-five, and have the world yet before you. I started at thirteen, lived quick, and exhausted the whole round of pleasure before I was thirty. I've tried everything, heard everything, done everything, know everything; and here I am, a man of thirty-three, literally used up-completely blaze!

Leech. Nonsense, man! Used up, indeed! with your wealth, with your twenty estates in the sunniest spots in England,—not to mention that Utopia, within four walls, in the Rue de Provence, in Paris.

Sir C. I'm dead with ennui.

Leech. Ennui ! poor Croesus!

Sir C. Croesus!-no, I'm no Croesus. My father, you've seen his portrait, good old fellow!-he certainly did leave me a little matter of twelve thousand pounds a year; but, after all

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Sir C. O, no; there are some people who can manage to do on less-on credit.

Leech. I know several. My dear Coldstream, you should try change of scene.

Sir C. I have tried it.

What's the use?

Leech. But I'd gallop all over Europe.
Sir C. I have. There's nothing in it.
Leech. Nothing in all Europe?

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