others, and those woes feigned; and thus the idea of making in this manner an attempt on the conscience of his father-in-law is excited in him."

Serlo had undertaken the part of Polonius. "One evening," he said, good humouredly, "I promise to give you a good character this time. I shall introduce the necessary tranquillity and security, shallowness and importance, gracefulness and absurdity, freedom and watchfulness, blunt mischievousness and feigned candour, wherever they should be. I shall perform and represent such a grey-headed, honest, persevering, time-serving halfrascal, in the politest manner; in which performance I shall avail my self of the somewhat rude and coarse touches of our author. I shall talk like a book when I am prepared, and like a fool when I am in good spirits. I shall be absurd in order to speak to every body's fancy, and be always so cunning, as to take no notice when people make a fool of me."

One day the conversation turned upon the respective merits of the novel and the drama, of which the following was nearly the result:

In the novel as in the drama we see human nature and action. The difference of the two compositions is not merely in their external form, not in the circumstance of the persons speaking in the one, whilst in the other they are generally the subjects of a narrative. Unfortunately many dramas are but novels in dialogue, and it would not be impossible to write a drama in let ters. The novel is principally to present sentiments and events; the drama, characters and deeds. The novel must proceed slowly, and the sentiments of the principal figure must, in some way or other, impede the progress of the whole towards its development. The drama must run, and the character of the principal figure must press forward to the end, only being impeded in its progress. The hero of a novel must be passive, at least not active in a high degree; of that of the drama we require action and deed. Grandison, Clarissa, Pamela, the Vicar

of Wakefield, even Tom Jones, if not passive, are at least impeding persons, and all the events are, in a certain measure, modeled after their sentiments. In the drama the hero models nothing after himself; every thing resists him; and he either removes the impediments out of his way, or he sinks under them.

Thus they also agreed that in the novel much might be allowed to the effects of chance; which, however, should always be turned and guided by the sentiments of the persons; but that fate which urges man, without his co-operation, by means of unconnected external circumstances to an unforeseen catastrophe, can only be admitted in the drama; that chance might produce pathetical, but no tragical events; that fate, however, must always be terrible, and becomes eminently tragical by bringing guilty and innocent actions, though independent of each other, into one disastrous combination. These reflections again brought them to the strange Hamlet, and the peculiarities of the play. The hero, they said, has in fact only sentiments too; he meets with events, only on which account the play has something of the prolixity of the novel: but fate having traced the plan, the piece proceeding from a horrid deed, and the hero being constantly urged on to a horrid deed, it is eminently tragical, and suffers no other than a tragical issue.

"But are you inexorable? Must Hamlet die at the end ?" asked Serlo.

"How can I let him live," said William, "since the whole piece presses him to death."-" But the public desire his life."

We also wish that a good useful man, dying from a chronic disease, might have lived longer. The family weep and conjure the physician, who cannot give him life; and as little as he can resist a natural necessity, can we command an acknowledged necessity of the art. It is a false condescension to the multitude, by exciting in them the feelings that they wish to have, and not those which they ought to have.

He who brings his money may demand the commodity according to his fancy in some respect; but the public has a right to be respected,

and not to be treated like children, to get their money. Let us gradually impart to them, through good performances, a taste for what is good, and they will bring their money with increased pleasure, since neither reason nor prudence can blame them for such expense.

We may flatter them, as we flatter a favourite child, in order to improve and ultimately to enlighten it; not as we flatter the rich or great in order to perpetuate the error by which we profit. A. B. Z.

I PAID a visit, a short time ago, to a very worthy and intelligent mechanic, residing in a neighbouring town, of which I had myself been formerly an inhabitant. The man received and entertained me in a very friendly way, and related to me, as we sat at the open window of his little parlour, the most important changes that had taken place since I had ceased to be a member of the community; pointing out many a house, whose tenants were no longer the same that I had left there. On a sudden he drew my attention to a poor woman with a countenance expressive of deep sorrow, who was walking along the street with slow and weary steps. That she was poor her dress, which though extremely clean was abundantly darned and washed almost to shreds, too plainly indicated, and its whole appearance shewed it to be a remnant of better days, with which it had faded. Her face was pale, her gesture sad, and her obeisance to a few passengers who met her bashful, and strikingly humble. As she wished us a good day, I thought I saw a feature of gratitude to my host mix with the expression of deeply rooted sorrow in her look.

"What do you think of her?" said the man, when she had passed. "Perhaps a victim of seduction? Yet no!" said I, instantly correcting my judgment, "or she must have fallen under excusatory circumstances. With the expressive grief and helplessness, which seemed to implore compassion and relief, her large blue eye spoke innocence and dignity. But unfortunate she surely

is."

"Yes," rejoined he, "unfortu. nate and poor through gaining a Prize in the Lottery.'

I expressed curiosity; the man closed the window, and proceeded to relate the following.

"This unfortunate woman was once among the number of the sprightliest and most beautiful maidens our little town could boast of. Her parents, distant relations of mine, were industrious mechanics, and maintained themselves with decency and comfort. Sophia's elegant figure, her beauty and enchanting modesty, gained the affections of young Sillner, an excellent cabinet-maker. For some months he was continually in her company, and I observed with delight the sincere and timid attachment of these young people. They will make a happy pair, thought I, for one is worthy of the other. And nothing was wanting to their happiness but the performance of the ceremony.

"One evening I found a man at the house of Sophia's parents, whom I am always sorry to meet anywhere. This fellow had sacrificed his reputable and lucrative employment to his idle and roving disposition, and resorted to all manner of low and indirect methods of gaining a livelihood. He was a broker and a match-maker; he angled a few hours in the day; bred young birds and taught them to pipe tunes; now and then he sent up an air-balloon, or discharged a few rockets for money, and did every thing, in short, but what he ought. That evening he stood at the table with a handful of tickets of a foreign lottery, which, in despite of a very wise and salutary law, he was endeavouring to sell for his own benefit, and he talked a great deal, with a honied tongue and a persuasive smile, of how unusual it was to lose, how many opulent people in the world

Imness.

owed their fortunes entirely to the Lottery, and how great the plea sure must be to draw the capital prize! Young Sillner looked grave, and I expressed my estly, though with opinion earn"I must tell you that I am very much against Lottery Schemes. I have known so many people, who have lost all through them; property, reputation, virtue, and peace of mind. The constant hope and reliance on a thing uncertain, and beyond our controul, causes us to give up, at length, the confidence in oneself, the building upon a sure foundation, upon skilful industry and resolute economy. We throw away what is within our grasp, and snatch at that which a hundred hands are stretched out to seize; we abandon our wholesome food, and amuse our hunger with the promise of delicacies to come; and, if they do not come, we grow desperate. It is a lamentable condition to be happy only in vain expectation. And if the expectation is fulfilled, I tremble at becoming suddenly rich. They, who are descended of opulent parents, are for the most part educated for the management of property; and they, who grow rich by industry and perseverance, will be enabled by those qualities to make a right use of their well-gotton fortunes; but he, who, either by inheritance or the gaining a prize, is plunged at once into affluence, is in great danger. I have known but few who have been benefitted in the end by what thus fell into their pockets without their knowing how it came there. I have seen many die away, prematurely, upon a rich inheritance, and many who have rioted in luxury for a few years, in defiance of all warning and remonstrance, and then been reduced to beg in the streets for a wretched subsistence.'

"All this I impressed upon them as well as I could, but a scrap of paper upon which a Lottery Scheme is printed, and which is equivalent to a piece of gold, has, over some hearts, an indescribable charm.

"The smiles of the man with the Tickets, and his shrugs at my shortsightedness, aided by the cool assurance with which he affirmed, that hundreds would be glad to en

6

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joy the advantage which he thus offered purely out of friendship, got the better of my arguments, in the minds of Sophia's parents. these, too, it was answered, that the produce of the Lottery was to be appropriated to some charitable institution. I don't recollect which the fellow named to me. I respect every good intention,' I replied; but I can nevertheless, see, that this or that means, which is employed, is not the fittest. If I, for example, were to entice the children of the wealthy into my house, and then for a little fruit, or an almond. cake, or merely by a promise of toys and playthings, were to persuade them to give me their jackets, and hats to clothe poor children with them, you surely would not. call that benevolent institution ?`

Oh! your comparison will not hold! they all exclaimed. I maintained that it did hold good, as comparisons generally do, that is, in its main features.

"So we argued and disputed a long time. At last the fellow with the tickets resolved to go; but before he did so, Sophia's parents also resolved to go,-to the bureau, namely. Every thing there in the shape of money was collected together, even to the contents of the grandfather's money box; some old coins, and various pocket-pieces with rings, which the man readily offered to change, were diligently rummaged out. The scrap of paper was now laid in the place of the savings of years-and would to God it had ever remained there! Probably the usual result would have taught them an useful lesson for the future; but conceive how unfortunate. In a little time we heard a great uproar, and the neighbours thundered at my door to announce that the ticket had been drawn a prize of above two thousand pounds.

"Sophia's parents, accompanied by the man, who, being the founder, was, of course, the participator in this good fortune, and who, from this time, became the chief friend and adviser of the family, met me with shouts of triumph. I rejoiced, as I could, certainly rather coldly and timidly. Cousin is envious,' said they, after my departure; but they were mistaken. When a man

sits down to his work with pleasure, and to his simple meal at noon and his bread and cheese in the evening with perfect contentment, he envies no man's lot. It is true that I may have looked angry, for I could not help observing the melancholy air with which Sophia regarded her lover from time to time, while her parents treated him with contempt, and often checked his sensible remarks with great asperity.

"What I foresaw happened. The new friend and privy counsellor of the family courted Sophia on behalf of a merchant, whom he recom mended as he had done the ticket, but whose proposal rested upon the condition that he should receive the whole amount of the prize by way of dower, because he happened to be in want of precisely that sum to re-establish his credit. People who seek to raise themselves above their station in life will submit, if need be, to the meanest humiliations to further their ambition; and so it proved in this instance. That the new suitor wanted nothing but the money, was clearly enough express ed. Sophia wept and lamented, and wrung her hands for Sillner, whom she loved; but her entreaties, and my remonstrances, supported by those of other friends, availed nothing-the parents had set their hearts upon the match, and they completed their own ruin by the extravagant preparations which they made for celebrating their nuptials. "I saw Sophia led to the altar, and I shall never forget that day. Pale, and wan, and emaciated, she appeared as a lady lately risen from the bed of labour. What do I say? No; in such a case, there is a ray of joy and happiness that brightens up the pain-worn countenance; a look of triumph and of maternal love but Sophia's eye betokened only distress, and anxiety, and dread.

"While Sillner found his happiness in the possession of another young

woman, his equal in life, Sophia's marriage, in which love had no part, became a grievous yoke. For a few years her outward circumstances were tolerable. The intercourse with a man, who cared little about her, could not give her contentment or peace. Then followed the sudden downfal of his establishment, which had been only propt up by the dower. Her husband, who had long since destroyed his constitu tion by irregular living, died last winter. His creditors pressed upon her from all sides; the effects that remained were inadequate to the payment of half their demands, and Sophia would now be a beggar, but that she supports herself, in spite of her broken health, by the labour of her hands. Fatal Prize in the Lottery!"

As the man uttered this ejacula tion we heard a disturbance at a little distance; from the window we could see nothing but a orowd of people collected in front of a house. However, my host's little daughter soon came running in breathless, and related the particulars." Alas, poor widow! Think, father; an ill-natured, wicked woman, to whom the deceased merchant owed a trifle, ran up to her in the street and threatened her with blows, calling her a proud cheat, and I know not what names besides. The unfortunate woman clasped her hands over her head and swooned away. Just as I came up they carried her into a house, and Sillner, who lives close by, came running to the spot, spoke to the furious woman, and became security for the few pounds. Poor innocent woman!"-" She is innocent, my dear," said the father; “ I will go to her again to-day, and do what I can for her. Who knows how great her distress may be again. Dear, amiable Sophia, what a treasure have you lost in Sillner, through that cursed Prize in the Lottery."

S.