Enter MATTIE with the ledger, R. BAIL. Look to mysel! let me look at the ledger first (putting on his spectacles, and opening it eagerly). L-M N-OOs-Osbal, as I'm a Bailie, the balance maun be enormous, but I havena the heart to run it up now (returning the ledger to MATTIE) How muckle is Mac Vittie in wi' him, Saunders? WY. I canna justly say, Bailie; but some hundreds. BAIL. Hundreds! only hundreds! Damn their supple snouts! And would they press a fa'ing man for the sake o’ hundreds, they that hae made thousands by him? Your maisters, Saunders Wylie, hae taken mony a gude fat job frae between my teeth; but I'll snap them this turn-I'll snap them this turn! WY. I wish you could, Bailie-I wish you could. Ah! I made a sair change when I left you to serve twa sic in-, fernal BAIL. Whisht! Saunders, whisht! while you eat their bread, dinna abuse the damn'd scoundrels ahint their backs. Wr. Ye've a kind heart, Mr. Jarvie, and an honest ane too. BAIL. My conscience! so had my worthy faither the Deacon, Saunders :--rest and bless him! WY. Wad ye be pleased to consult on this business wi' our partners, Sir? BAIL. No; I'll see them baith damn'd first. My conscience!—that is, a man that meddles wi' pitch is sure to be defiled. I'd sooner haud a parley wi' Auld Clootie !-Na, na; Nicol Jarvie has a way o' his ain to manage this matter. Gang your ways, Mattie, wi' thaf huge memorial o' misfortunes, and bring my walking gear, an' the lantern. (exit MATTIE,R.) As for you, Saunders, speed ye hame again. an' no a word that ye hae seen me! (exit WYLIE, L.)-Osbaldistone and Co. stop! My conscience! I'd sooner hae dreamed o' the downfa' o' the Bank of Lunnon !-Why it's enough to gar the very hair o' my wig rise, an' stand on end! But the distress cannot be permanent. At ony rate I'se prove mysel a friend, an' if the house regains its credit, I shall recover my loss,-and if no, why I hae done as I would be done by, like my worthy faither, the Deacon, gude man!-blessing on his memory, say I, that taught me gude-will towards my fellow-creatures! Enter MATTIE, R., decked out for walking-her apron pinned up, &c., and bearing the BAILIE's tartan cloak, hat, lantern, &c. MAT. I've brought your gear, Sir; but, gude safe us! whar wad ye be ganging to, at such a time o' night? (she helps him on with his dress.) BAIL. Ye'll sune ken that, Mattie, for ye maun e'en tramp alang wi' me. I wadna like to be breaking my shins in the dark just now; for, truth to speak, I had never mair occasion to stand firm on my legs, baith at hame and abroad. Now gie us the beaver, lassie. MAT. Weel! to think o' putting on claithes when ye suld be taking 'em aff, an' scampering abroad, when yesuld be ganging to your bed! BAIL. Time and tide wait for nae man, Mattie. BAIL. To mony places that I'd as lief bide away frae. MAT. Now wrap this 'kerchief about your thrapple. (ties a handkerchief round his neck). BAIL. Ye're a kind-hearted lassie, Mattie. MAT. There-leave a wee bit room for your mou.' BAIL. (aside) I wonder what she's gaun to dae wi' my mou.' (stroking his chin). MAT. (giving him a flask) Ye maun needs hae a drap o' the cordial your faither, the Deacon, was sae fond o';-he aye liked to sip the cordial. BAIL. Rest and bless him! sae he did; and sae do I too, Mattie. (drinks). You're a gude-tempered saul, Mattie, and a bonnie lass too. Ye're come o' gude kith and kin, Mattie-the Laird o' Limmerfield's cousin-only seven times removed. (Mattie is moving away the bottle) Stay-you may bring the bottle wi' you, Mattie, and tuck yoursel' under my arm-there's nae disgrace in a Bailie walking hand in arm wi' ane o' gentle bluid-Sae, come your ways, Mattie. Osbaldistone and Co. Stop! My conscience! [Exeunt, L. THE FALL OF NAPOLEON. BYRON. [No person admired the great intellect of the mighty Corsican more than Byron, and when the Emperor so tamely yelded to his conquerors, and preferred to fret away his heart in St. Helena's lonely isle, rather than to fall gloriously at the head of his brave legions, the poet expressed the contempt he felt for his abject spirit in words of unsurpassable scorn. And very fine is the contrast drawn between Washington and Bonaparte. It is a magnificent theme for declamation; and should be spoken in a grand passionate style.] 'Tis done but yesterday a King! And now thou art a nameless thing; Is this the man of thousand thrones, Since he, miscall'd the Morning Star, Ill-minded man! why scourge thy kind Thanks for that lesson-it will teach Than high Philosophy can preach, That led them to adore Those Pagod things of sabre sway, The triumph, and the vanity, The sword, the sceptre, and that sway All quell'd!--Dark Spirit! what must be The Desolator desolate! The Victor overthrown! The arbiter of other's fate A suppliant for his own! Is it some yet imperial hope, That with such change can calmly cope? To die a prince-or live a slave- He who of old would rend the oak, Chain'd by the trunk he vainly broke- Thou, in the sternness of thy strength, He fell, the forest prowler's prey: The Roman, when his burning heart, His only glory was that hour The Spaniard when the lust of sway A strict accountant of his beads, Yet better had he neither known But thou-from thy reluctant hand Too late thou leav'st the high command All Evil Spirit as thou art, It is enough to grieve the heart To see thine own unstrung; To think that God's fair world hath been The footstool of a thing so mean! And earth hath spilt her blood for him, And Monarchs bow'd the trembling limb, Oh! ne'er may tyrant leave behind Thine evil deeds are writ in gore, If thou hadst died as honor dies, Weigh'd in the balance, hero dust Thy scales, Mortality! are just But yet methought the living great To dazzle and dismay; Nor deem'd Contempt could thus make mirth Of these the Conquerors of the earth. And she proud Austria's mournful flower. How bears her breast the torturing hou's? Must she, too, bend,-must she too, share, Thou throneless Homicide? It still she loves thee hoard that gem; 'Tis worth thy vanish'd diadem! Then haste thee to thy sullen Isle, That element may meet thy smile- That Corinth's pedagogue hath now Thou Timour! in his captive's cage, |