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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-MN-0Os–Osbal, as I'm a Bailie, the balance maun be enormous, þut I havena the heart to run it up now (returning the ledger to MATTIE) How muckle is Mac Vittie in wi' hin, 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.
WY. 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' that 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! Id 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 l'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, gucle 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
aring the BAILIL'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.
Mat. Now wrap this ’kerchief about your thrapple. (ties a handkerchief round his neck).
BAIL. Ye're a kind-hearted lassie, Mattie.
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 Bonapartė. It is a magnificent thome for declamation ; and should be spoken in a grand passionate style.)
'Tis done—but yesterday a King !
And arm'd with Kings to strivem
And now thou art a nameless thing;
So abject-yet alive!
And can he thus survive ?
Ill-minded man ! why scourge thy kind
Who bow'd so low the knee?
Thou taught'st the rest to see.
To those that worshipp'd thee; Nor till thy fall could mortals guess Ambition's less than littleness !
Thanks for that lesson—it will teach
To after warriors more,
And vainly preach'd before.
That led them to adore
The triumph, and the vanity,
The rapture of the strife-
To thee the breath of life;
Wherewith renown was rife-
The Victor overthrown! The arbiter of other's fate
A suppliant for his own!
Or dread of death alone ?
He who of old would rend the oak,
Dream'd not of the rebound, Chain'd by the trunk he vainly broke
Alone-how look'd he round ?
And darker fate hast found;
The Roman, when his burning heart,
Was slaked with blood of Rome, Threw down the dagger-dared depart,
In savage grandeur, home-
Yet left him such a doom !
Had lost its quickening spell,
An empire for a cell:
His dotage trifled well:
The thunderbolt is wrung-
To which thy weakness clung;
To see thine own unstrung;
And earth hath spilt her blood for him,
Who thus can hoard his own! And Monarchs bow'd the trembling limb,
And thank'd him for a throne! Fair Freedom! may we hold thee dear, When thus thy mightiest foes their fear
In humoblest guise have shown.
Oh! ne'er may tyrant leave behind
Thine evil de eds are writ in gore,
Nor written thus in vain--
Or deepen every stain :
To shiaine the world again--
Weigh'd in the balance, hero dust
Is vile as vulgar clay ;
To all that pass away.
To dazzle and dismay ;
And she proud Austria's mournful flower.
Thy still imperial bride ;
Still clings she to thy side ?
Thou throneless Homicide ?
Then haste thee to thy sullen Isle,
And gaze upon the sea;
It ne'er was ruled by thee!
That Earth is now as free !
Thou Timour! in his captive's cage,
What thoughts will there be thine, While brooding in thy sou'd rage?
But one-" The world was mine!"