children in the hope that they my rise higher than himself, and that he is fitting them for better fortunes. Prosperity is said to be more dangerous than adversity to human virtue; both are wholesome when sparingly distributed; both in the excess perilous always, and often deadly; but if prosperity be thus dangerous, it is a danger which falls to the lot of few; and it is sufficiently proved by the vices of those unhappy wretches who exist in slavery, under whatever form or in whatever disguise, that hope is as essential to prudence, and to virtue, as to happi ness.' stituted in the place of the blind prince-the priests cry out a miracle!' the king and people are persuaded the blind boy has miraculously received the blessing of sight.-Rodolph, the palatine's son, is brought up as the heir to Samartia's throne. Edmond, the unfortunate blind prince, is delivered, with a purse of gold, to Oberto, a soldier who lived at a village near Gnesna, the residence of the court-Oberto has orders to retire, aud he buys a farm near Warsaw, where he lives happily with the blind boy, and his daughter Elvina.-The court, after some years, quit Gnesna, and is established at Warsaw. The queen, stung by remorse of conscience, on her dying bed intrusts Kalig, her confidential officer, with a packet addressed to Oberto, which contains the account of her imposition she enjoins Kalig to seek out Oberto, and if the blind boy exists, to deliver the packet. Kalig hunting in the forest with Rodolph, they come by accident to the farm of Oberto-Rodolph demands refreshments, and the name of his host-at the name of Oberto, Kalig recognizes the soldier and the blind prince, and on the departure of Rodolph he puts the packet of the queen into the hands of Oberto-astonished and agitated, Oberto opens the seal, and is transported when he finds that Edmond, the blind boy, is heir to Samartia's throne-he calls Edmond and his daughter Elvina, and having read the letter of the queen, and conquered their fears, they proceed together to Warsaw Oberto meets with Kalig at Warsaw, and consults with him how to announce the great intelligence-Kalig advises him to declare it publicly in the temple at the marriage of Rodolph and Lida, duchess of Lithuania, which is just about to take place.-The ceremony is begun the chief priest says aloud, I here betroth Rodolph, son of Stanislaus,'-Oberto rushes forward and cries, He is not the son of Stanislaus.'-The king, at the sight of the packet, acknowledges the writing of the queen, and convinced by the resemblance of the blind boy, declares Edmond to be his son. Rodolph is rewarded with the dukedom of Lithuania, and Stanislaus presents him with a brilliant ring as a pledge of his undiminished affection-but nothing short of the crown can satisfy the ambitious desires of Rodolph-he gets possession of the person of Edmond, and delivers the poor blind prince to his villanous agent, Starrow, to be drowned in the Vistula-Starrow seeks to procure the aid of Kalig, who rescues the blind prince, and slays, in combat, Starrow.-During the fight Edmond wanders up a steep rock, and is on the point of falling down the precipice, when he is saved by Elvina, who, with her father, had flown to preserve him from the threatened danger.-Kalig sounds the horn of Starrow, which was to have been a signal to Rodolph of Edmond's death-Rodolph, deceived by the sound, alarms the palace, and followed by the king and his guards, pretends to be eager in his search for the assassins-he seizes Kalig, and accuses him of the murder of Edmond-Oberto and Elvina appear with the blind, prince-the unblushing Rodolph still insists upon the guilt of Kalig, when Edmond produces the ring of Stanislaus, which in the struggle he drew from the hand of one of his assassins-Rodolph is convicted— and Stanislaus resigns the throne to Edmond, who shares it with his beloved Elvina. This petit piece is of French extraction, and has been very successfully adapted to the English stage. It possesses considerable interest, and often touches the finer feelings, to the dénouement. The language is neat, the humour chaste, and the incidents arise naturally, throughout the progress of the tale. The music reflects credit on Davy, the composer, and promises to become extremely popular. The piece throughout met with a favourable reception, in despite of the paltry junto of private actors who constantly have, for some years past, annoyed the audience on the first representation, at either theatre, of every new piece. The Blind Boy was given out for a second representation with approbation. Every thing is made to conspire to enhance the interest, and enchain the attention with which this piece must be viewed, under whatever dramatic character it may be thought proper to class it.-The pomp of spectacle, the magic of music, the dumb eloquence of pantomime, are inlisted to swell its effect, and promote its success and indeed not in vain.-The rank and the innocence, and the doubtful fortunes of the blind boy, who is so affectingly personated by Mrs. C. Kemble, cannot fail to excite the most lively emotions.Scarcely less interesting is the character of Elvina, of whom the unknown youth, Edmond, is enamoured, and who finds in miss Norton a representative full of tenderness, fidelity, and love.-All these softer sentiments she uttered with a tone, and accompanied with a manner, most consonant and congenial to the gentleness of their nature, while they drew a coinment from the breast of the audience, which attested the coincidence of their feelings. Fawcett was extremely happy in exhibiting the mixed character of a soldier and a farmer-open and tenderhearted at one time, fierce and intrepid at another. It is a part in which he might be expected to be quite at home. Liston is, as usual, a simple, blundering fellow, and therefore may be easily supposed to excite laughter. In the other characters, though each very ably sustained, there is nothing that calls for peculiar notice. None of them indeed pretend to novelty, but there is this merit in the manner in which the incidents are brought about and the disclosure carried on, that the one is natural and easy, and the other unadulterated by the affectation of refined sentiment and false wit. We understand that this drama is the first effort of Captain Hewetson's virgin Muse, and it affords a fair promise of a numerous family, that may aim at the praise of sentiment and taste. The music possesses great sweetness and variety, and most happily adapted to the expression of the different passions, as they were successively developed. It is wholly composed by Mr. Davy, and does very great credit to his science, judgment, and invention. The overture was very warmly applauded. There are several new scenes of exquisite beauty, which, combined with the splendour of the dresses and decorations, had a most dazzling effect. The performance was throughout received without a murmur of disapprobation. LADY Walsingham desires me to inform your ladyship, that when she finished her last letter, she endeavoured to rest for an hour, but her indisposition increasing fast, she rose and paced her chamber. My dressing-room is contiguous I was sitting there, and heard her. Fearing she was unwell, I rapped at her door. She opened it herself. Why, my dear,' said I, did you not send for me? You are extremely ill.' I am not very well,' said she, in a faint voice. I saw her countenance change, and the big drops of agony start on her beauteous forehead. Convinced that she was in the excruciating pains of child-birth, I hastened down to find my lord. My lord was gone out with his party for a ride. I knew not what to do next, but was running across the hall, thinking to find some of the men servants, when Mr. Baderly entered. For God's sake, madam, what is the matter?' Why,' said I, Lady Walsingham is in want of an accoucheur, and no one is in the way to send.' He staid to hear no more, and in less than five minutes I saw him galloping down the avenue. In a very short time he returned with doctor Howard, who fortunately was just come from town, and had not put up his horses. A nurse had been spoken to from the village. I sent Baderly's servant for her; and staid with iny beloved friend, till I could witness her agony no longer. Baderly was striding about the hall., He met me. Gracious Heaven! what does your countenance portend?-She is not dead!' * God forbid!' said I, but she is in such pain I cannot bear to behold her.' But you will go to her again, I hope, madam, for lord Walsingham has sent an excuse for dinner, as they fell in with lord Beauford and some of his friends.' I returned to my friend, but it was not till the evening a lovely girl was born, who, though she comes two months before her time, seems likely to do well, and is a very fine infant. When lady Walsingham seemed composed, I withdrew to wait her lord's arrival. Baderly was in raptures to hear of her safety. see any treachery and deceit under a mask of love and friendship. I hope I am not very uncharitable, but that girt appears to me an artful, false, ungenerous creature, and seems spreading her snares for the husband of her she calls her friend. What pleasure she expects to receive from such a conquest, I am unable to determine. If lady Walsingham were a common woman she might expect to drive her to indiscretions which might enable Walsingham to obtain a divorce; but with such a woman as my friend her hopes can never be so sanguine. Lady Walsingham will perform her duty, though the whole world should fail in theirs. I would warn my Caroline,-I would hint my fears; but admonitions from me would lose their effect: it might look like prejudice; but a caution from your ladyship would have due weight, and prove a shield to the bosom of your daughter against the shafts of falshood and malevolence. If they are not hurled at her, she will be spared much anguish :if they are, they will lose half their force, as being forewarned, she will be forearmed. What makes me enforce a cauAbout nine o'clock the party tion as necessary, is the double returned. I accompanied Wal-dealings of this girl.-When she, singham to his lady's room. He is in lady Walsingham's apartkissed her and his little girl with ment, she assumes a winning softtenderness, and she looked revived ness, appears affectionately kind by it. I sat with her all night, to the mother, and dotingly fond and was happy to find her enjoy of the child; but when she is bean undisturbed repose. This is low stairs, and without restraint, the third day, and she mends there seems a secret exultation at hourly. the confinement of lady Waisingham. I watch her every movement with a scrutinizing eye. I find she has informed your ladyship of the rudeness of miss Lester, and likewise of her apology. Lady Walsingham is too. Innocent, too guiltless herself, to Lady Julia, in the absence of her sister, does the honours of the house and table. Miss Lester sometimes assists her, as Julia complains of ill health, and frequently retires with the tea equipage. Lady Mary and myself almost live in lady Walsingham's room, and leave the gentlemen to entertain themselves. lady especially, if she was young and beautiful, to marry when and with whom she pleased; the young heir if she chose. If this was law, I would commence a wife imme diately; but as it is not, your conjugal felicity has so alarmed me, I am determined to remain as I am for the present. Little Adolphus grows tall, and is a most engaging boy. He and I are very great friends, and he. If you could but get rid of your has seen more company since his old fool, you should come over mamnia's confinement than in his here, and see what you could do life before; for when the little among our English youths; and I rogue sees me going, he opens his would return with you to the land shrill, clear pipe with such effect, of light and harmony. I am alhe would distract his mother, and most sick of this foggy, splenetic deafen us all, if not taken. island; for, ah! Dorzella, among its marshy, swampy hogs I have met with that I never did before in all the courts of Europe-a woman more beautiful than myself. I think I have given your ladyship a full description of our situaation at Walsingham, and have nothing more to add, than that I am Your ladyship's LETTER X. Miss Lester to the Marchioness of Della Nocera. Walsingham-hall. WELL, my charining Dorzella, am I to congratulate you on your freedom yet? Is that odd body, the marquis, dead? I hope so, or I am sure you are in purgatory. To what a monstrous age has that man attained! Really the legislature ought to declare him dead in law; and let his estate go to some younger man who could enjoy it, and not let an old wretch (who has outlived every thing but his jealousy and ill-humour) keep possession, like the dog in the manger, (to give you one of my country's elegant proverbs). His I have often told you, if you had been a little more lovely, I should have hated you: but you yourself allowed me the palm of beauty, and you was the most fascinating woman I had ever beheld. I therefore began to consider myself as the paragon of the' world. Judge then what must be my sensations to find myself eclipsed when I least expected it. You know I came over with a full persuasion I should astonish the court of England, raise rapture and ecstasy in the hearts of my countrymen, and envy in the hearts of my countrywomen ;— . Oh, nothing but envy, hatred, and imitation! 1 Mon Dieu! I arrived in an unpropitious moment:-the parfiament was broke up-lords and commons were all flown to the shades, and all my air-spun schemes rendered abortive. The next morning I accidentally heard Caroline Aubry was metamorphosed into countess Walsingham, and with a large party was |