By them I was thrust out, and them I blame;

May heaven so judge me as I judged my master,

And God so love me as I love his race!

Lady R. His race shall yet reward thee. On thy faith Depends the fate of thy loved master's house.

Rememberest thou a little lonely hut,

That like a holy hermitage appears
Among the cliffs of Carron?

Pris. I remember.

The cottage of the cliffs.

Lady R. 'Tis that I mean;

There dwells a man of venerable age,
Who in my father's service spent his youth:
Tell him I sent thee, and with him remain,
Till I shall call upon thee to declare,

Before the king and nobles, what thou now
To me hast told. No more but this, and thou
Shalt live in honor all thy future days;
Thy son so long shall call thee father still,
And all the land shall bless the man who saved
The son of Douglas, and Sir Malcolm's heir.
Remember well my words: if thou shouldst meet
Him whom thou call'st my son, still call him so,
And mention nothing of his nobler father.

Pris. Fear not that I should mar so fair an harvest,

By putting in my sickle ere 'tis ripe.

Why did I leave my home, and ancient dame?

To find the youth to tell him all I knew,

And make him wear these jewels in his arms;

Which might, I thought, be challenged, and so bring
To light the secret of his noble birth. .

Lady R. My faithful Anna, dost thou share my joy?

I know thou dost. Unparalleled event!

Reaching from heaven to earth, Jehovah's arm

Snatched from the waves, and brings to me my son!

Judge of the widow, and the orphan's father,

Accept a widow's and a mother's thanks

For such a gift! What does my Anna think

Of the young eaglet of a valiant nest?

How soon he gazed on bright and burning arms,

Spurned the low dunghill where his fate had thrown him, And towered up to the region of his sire!

WIT and high spirits ran in the family from the Thomas Sheridan, D. D., who was Dean Swift's boon companion in Ireland. This clergyman's son combined the profession of acting with ambitious efforts to reform the prevailing system of education, and with such success that Oxford and Cambridge conferred on him their honorary degrees after listening to his lectures. He played Hamlet and similar prominent parts, being regarded as second only to Garrick. His romantic marriage resulted in the birth of the dramatist at Dublin in 1751. The father's means, with expectations from his educational scheme, permitted Richard to lead the idle life of a beau of the period, though he produced a few dramatic sketches. As the lover of Miss Linley, the young daughter of a popular composer, and singer at his concerts, Sheridan outrivalled a Captain Matthews, a married suitor, and fought two duels with him. A secret marriage had taken place between the young pair, as the girl's father objected to Sheridan. Not until 1773 were they openly married. On her slender fortune they lived in high style in London, a shrewd scheme for winning friends worth having. When he produced his first comedy, "The Rivals," in 1775, these influential friends made it the talk of the town, which ensured Sheridan good returns, In association with Linley as composer, he produced his opera, "The Duenna," in the same year, the success of which enabled him to buy, first, one half of Garrick's share in Drury Lane theatre, and, two years afterwards, the other half. In 1777 was produced "The School for Scandal," which stands at the head of all comedies by reason of the unbroken level of its wit, its crisp action and

keen satire. Though in fact inferior as a work of art to "The Rivals," it has remained till the present day the most popular comedy that holds the stage. The amusing farcical piece, "The Critic," appeared in 1779, and twenty years later the tragedy of "Pizarro," but the dramatist's talents now found new occupation in politics. As their Parliamentary candidate, Sheridan paid the voters of the borough of Stafford five guineas each for electing him their member. His mastery of subjects and skill in oratory at once won him the favor of statesmen. Fox gave him office, leading to his becoming Secretary of the Treasury while yet a young man. When the impeachment of Warren Hastings was under discussion Sheridan spoke for three hours, with so powerful an effect that the House adjourned until it could recover its calmness. His four days' speech on the same topic has been described by Macaulay. His great speeches rank among the worthiest traditions of oratory. The break-up of the Whig party and the death of Fox left Sheridan isolated, and he used his influence as a social companion of the Prince Regent to keep it in the cold. The latter years of Sheridan tell a melancholy story. They were wild days at best; drink and gambling were the rule in fashionable society, and the bloated faces of statesmen and orators, and the shattering of great fortunes on the card table, were common spectacles. Sheridan's gay temperament made him the easiest prey to all the popular vices. The theatre, his only support for thirty years, suffered from his reckless ways, his health was ruined, his parliamentary influence waned under the scandals he courted rather than stopped. Twice his theatre was burnt out. Debts of every kind piled upon his head a load too heavy for a much stronger man than ever he was, and so, hunted by and hiding from the sheriff's officers, at last he found release in death, which came in 1816. Nevertheless, Richard Brinsley Sheridan was buried with all the outward honors among his betters in genius and character in Westminster Abbey.

BOB ACRES' DUEL.

(From "The Rivals.")

Sir Lucius O' Trigger. Mr. Acres, I am delighted to embrace you.

Acres. My dear Sir Lucius, I kiss your hands.

Sir L. Pray, my friend, what has brought you so suddenly to Bath?

Acres. 'Faith, I have followed Cupid's Jack-a-lantern, and find myself in a quagmire at last. In short, I have been very ill-used, Sir Lucius. I don't choose to mention names, but look on me as a very ill-used gentleman.

Sir L. Pray, what is the case? I ask no names.

Acres. Mark me, Sir Lucius:-I fall as deep as need be in love with a young lady-her friends take my part-I follow her to Bath-send word of my arrival-and receive answer that the lady is to be otherwise disposed of. This, Sir Lucius, I call being ill-used.

Sir L. Very ill, upon my conscience! Pray, can you divine the cause of it?

Acres. Why, there's the matter! She has another lover, one Beverley, who, I am told, is now in Bath. Odds slanders and lies! he must be at the bottom of it.

Sir L. A rival in the case, is there?—and you think he has supplanted you unfairly?

Acres. Unfairly! to be sure he has. He never could have done it fairly.

Sir L. Then sure you know what is to be done?

Acres. Not I, upon my soul.

Sir. L. We wear no swords here-but you understand me.

Acres. What! fight him?

Sir L. Ay, to be sure; what can I mean else?

Acres. But he has given me no provocation.

Sir L. Now I think he has given you the greatest provocation in the world. Can a man commit a more heinous offence against another than to fall in love with the same woman? Oh, by my soul, it is the most unpardonable breach of friendship.

Acres. Breach of friendship! Ay, ay; but I have no acquaint

ance with this man. I never saw him in my life.

Sir L. That's no argument at all-he has the less right, then, to take such a liberty.

Acres. 'Gad, that's true-I grow full of anger, Sir LuciusI fire apace! Odds hilts and blades! I find a man may have a deal of valor in him and not know it. But couldn't I contrive to have a little right on my side?

Sir L. What the devil signifies right when your honor is concerned? Do you think Achilles or my little Alexander the Great ever inquired where the right lay? No, by my soul, they drew their broadswords, and left the lazy sons of peace to settle the justice of it.

Acres. Your words are a grenadier's march to my heart. I believe courage must be catching. I certainly do feel a kind of valor rising, as it were- -a kind of courage, as I may say-Odds flints, pans, and triggers! I'll challenge him directly.

Sir L. Ah! my little friend, if I had Blunderbuss Hall here I could show you a range of ancestry, in the O'Trigger line, that would furnish the New Room, every one of whom had killed his man. For though the mansion-house and dirty acres have slipped through my fingers, I thank Heaven our honor and the family pictures are as fresh as ever.

Acres. Oh, Sir Lucius, I have had ancestors too!-every man of them colonel or captain in the militia! Odds balls and barrels ! say no more I'm braced for it. The thunder of your words has soured the milk of human kindness in my breast! Zounds! as the man in the play says, "I could do such deeds".

Sir L. Come, come, there must be no passion at all in the case; these things should always be done civilly.

Acres. I must be in a passion, Sir Lucius-I must be in a rage! -Dear Sir Lucius, let me be in a rage, if you love me. Come, here's pen and paper. (Sits down to write.) I would the ink were red! Indite, I say, indite. How shall I begin? Odds bullets and blades! I'll write a good bold hand, however.

Sir L. Pray compose yourself.

Acres. Come, now, shall I begin with an oath?

Lucius, let me begin with a dam'me!

[Sits down.

Do, Sir

Sir L. Pho, pho! do the thing decently, and like a Christian. Begin now-"Sir "

Acres. That's too civil by half.

Sir L. "To prevent the confusion that might arise”—

Acres. (Writing and repeating.) "To prevent the confusion

which might arise"-Well?—

Sir L. "From our both addressing the same lady"—

Acres. Ay-there's the reason-"same lady"-Well?