Whose was this treachery? (Shows him papers.)
Who hath done this,

But thou, a tyrant's friend?

Rai. Who hath done this?

There, perchance,

Father! if I may call thee by that name-
Look, with thy piercing eye, on those whose smiles
Were masks that hid their daggers.
May lurk what loves not light too strong. For me,
I know but this there needs no deep research
To prove the truth that murderers may be traitors,
Even to each other.

Proc. (To Montalba.) His unaltering cheek
Still vividly doth hold its natural hue,
And his eye quails not!-Is this innocence?

Mont. No! 'tis the unshrinking hardihood of crime.
Thou bearest a gallant mien!-But where is she
Whom thou hast bartered fame and life to save,
The fair provençal maid? - What! knowest thou not
That this alone were guilt, to death allied?
Was it not our law, that he who spared a foe,-
And is she not of that detested race?-
Should henceforth be among us as a foe?
Where hast thou borne her?-Speak!
Rai. That heaven, whose eye
Burns up thy soul with its far-searching glance,
Is with her; she is safe.

Proc. And by that word

Thy doom is sealed. -Oh God! that I had died
Before this bitter hour, in the full strength
And glory of my heart!

Rai. The pang is over,

And I have but to die.

Mont. Now, Procida,

Comes thy great task. Wake! summon to thine aid

All thy deep soul's commanding energies;

For thou, a chief among us, must pronounce

The sentence of thy son. It rests with thee.

Pro. Ha! ha! - Men's hearts should be of softer mold

Than in the elder time. Fathers could doom
Their children then with an unfaltering voice,
And we must tremble thus! Is it not said,
That nature grows degenerate, earth being now
So full of days?

Mont. Rouse up thy mighty heart.

Proc. Ay, thou sayest right. There yet are souls which tower As landmarks to mankind.-Well, what's the task? There is a man to be condemned, you say? Is he then guilty?

All. Thus we deem of him

With one accord.

Proc. And hath he nought to plead?
Rai. Nought but a soul unstained.

Proc. Why, that is little.

Stains on the soul are but as conscience deems them,
And conscience may be seared. But, for this sentence!
Was it not the penalty imposed on man,

Even from creation's dawn, that he must die ?
It was: thus making guilt a sacrifice

Unto eternal justice; and we but

Obey heaven's mandate when we cast dark souls
To the elements from amongst us. Be it so!
Such be his doom!-I have said. Ay, now my heart
Is girt with adamant, whose cold weight doth press
Its gaspings down. Off! let me breathe in freedom!

Mountains are on my breast!

Mont. Guards, bear the prisoner

Back to his dungeon.

Rai. Father! oh, look up!

Thou art my father still!

Guido. Oh! Raimond, Raimond!

If it should be that I have wronged thee, say
Thou dost forgive me.

Rai. Friend of my young days,

So may all-pitying heaven!

Proc. Whose voice was that?

(He sinks back.)

(Raimond is led out.)

Where is he?-gone?-now I breathe once more
In the free air of heaven. Let us away.

HUMOROUS AND DIVERTING.

SELECTION I.

HOT COCKLES. HENRY-CHARLES. - Anonymous. Charles. Brother, all our friends have left us, and yet I am still in a playing humor. What game shall we choose? Henry. There are only two of us, and I am afraid we should not be much diverted.

Char. Let us play at something, however.
Hen. But at what?

Char. At blindman's-buff, for instance.

Hen. That is a game that would never end. It would not be as if there were a dozen, of which number some are generally off their guard; but where there are only two, I should not find it difficult to shun you, or you me; and then when we had caught each other, we should know for certain who it was.

Char. That is true, indeed. Well, then, what think you of hot cockles?

Hen. That would be the same, you know. We could not possibly guess wrong.

Char. Perhaps we might. However, let us try.

Hen. With all my heart, if it please you. Look here, if you like it, I will be Hot Cockles first.

Char. Do, brother. Put your right hand on the bottom of this chair. Now stoop down and lay your face close upon it, that you may not see. (He does so.) That is well;-and now your left hand on your back. Well master-but I hope your eyes are shut. (Carefully looking round to see.)

Hen. Yes yes; do not be afraid.

Char. Well, master, what have you to sell?

Hen. Hot cockles! hot!

Char. (Slapping him with his left hand.) Who struck?
Hen. (Getting up.) Why, you, you little goose!
Char. Yes, yes; but with which hand?

Hen. The the right.

Char. No, it was the left. Now you are the goose.

SELECTION II.

HOW TO TELL BAD NEWs. MR. H. STEWARD. - Anonymous

Mr. H. Ha! Steward, how are you my old boy? How do things go on at home?

Steward. Bad enough, your honor; the magpie's dead.
Mr. H. Poor mag! so he's gone. How came he to die ?
Stew. Over-ate himself, sir.

Mr. H. Did he, faith? a greedy dog; why, what did he

get he liked so well?

Stew. Horse-flesh, sir; he died of eating horse-flesh.
Mr. H. How came he to get so much horse-flesh?

Stew. All your father's horses, sir.

Mr. H.

Stew.

Mr. H.

What! are they dead, too?

Ay, sir; they died of over-work.

And why were they over-worked, pray?

Stew. To carry water, sir.

Mr. H.

water for?

To carry water! and what were they carrying

Stew. Sure sir, to put out the fire.

Mr. H. Fire! what fire ?

Stew. Oh, sir, your father's house is burned down to the

SELECTION III.

LOVEGOLD-JAMES.-Fielding.

Lovegold. Where have you been? I have wanted you above an hour.

James. Whom do you want, sir, -your coachman or your cook? for I am both one and t'other.

Love. I want my cook.

James. I thought, indeed, it was not your coachman; for you have had no great occasion for him since your last pair of horses were starved; but your cook, sir, shall wait upon you in an instant. (Puts off his coachman's great-coat and appears as a cook.) Now, sir, I am ready for your commands.

Love. I am engaged this evening to give a supper.

James. A supper, sir! I have not heard the word this half year; a dinner, indeed, now and then; but for a supper, I'm almost afraid, for want of practice, my hand is out.

Love. Leave off your saucy jesting, and see that you provide a good supper.

James. That may be done with a good deal of money, sır. Love. Is the mischief in you? Always money! Can you say nothing else but money, money, money? My children, my servants, my relations, can pronounce nothing but money.

James. Well, sir; but how many will there be at table? Love. About eight or ten; but I will have a supper dressed but for eight; for if there be enough for eight, there is enough for ten.

James. Suppose, sir, at one end, a handsome soup; at the other, a fine Westphalia ham and chickens; on one side, a fillet of veal; on the other, a turkey, or rather a bustard, which may be had for about a guinea

Love. Zounds! is the fellow providing an entertainment for my lord-mayor and the court of aldermen ?

James. Then a ragout

Love. I'll have no ragout. Would you burst the good peoyou dog?

Then pray, sir, say what you will have? Why, see and provide something to cloy their stomthere be two good dishes of soup-maigre; a large g; some dainty fat pork-pie, very fat; a fine small of mutton, and a large dish with two artichokes. * plenty and variety.