growing intimacy with the actual world in which we live. The next ten years is pretty sure to correct this overweening affection for the realities of life and to throw us back upon our old love. But it is now too late. We have been faithless to both, and both reject us. The names of these two melo-dramas, we speak for ourselves, came gliding into us, like " Margaret's ghost, that stood at William's feet;" but when we opened our arms to clasp a living mistress, they closed upon a shadow. In short, we cannot be every thing at once. Till a certain age we are too happy to be wise; and, afterwards, we get too wise to be happy.

It remains for us to notice the farce and the interlude. The farce is called, A Roland for an Oliver; and it is the very best we have seen for a long time past. Sir Mark Chase (Fawcett) is an hypochondriacal old gentleman, who is always complaining of his health, just in proportion as he has no cause; and one day he actually fancies himself dying, and therefore sends for his nephew to take possession of his fortune and his blessing, together with a wife which he (the old gentleman) has provided for him. But the nephew (Abbott) has in the mean time provided one for himself, and he brings her down to his uncle's seat in the country, expecting, from the tenor of the message which he had received, to find him already deceased. On his arrival, a pleasant equivoque ensues; for he finds the servants all in high spirits, notwithstanding the old gentleman is "just gone." It appears afterwards, that he is only gone out a shooting. On his return the new married pair are in a dilemma how to conceal their marriage; but, luckily, Maria (Miss Foote), the bride provided by the uncle, had previously arrived at the house on a visit, and turning out to be a friend of the young people, she agrees to personate the real bride, and to pass off their secret marriage as an intended "agreeable sur prise" for the old gentleman. The real bride is to pass for the bridemaid; and here some exceedingly droll scenes occur, in consequence of Sir Mark finding his nephew and the supposed bride-maid in rather odd circumstances. He thinks it his duty to communicate this to Maria, who turns it off with great carelessness and sang-froid, at which the old gentleman

is still more shocked and scandalized. At this period, Highflyer (Jones), the lover of Maria, arrives in the neighbourhood, and endeavours to sooth his melancholy (for he has been discarded by his mistress), by visiting a lunatic asylum which is close to Sir Mark's house; but by a trick of the nephew, he is made to mistake the old gentleman's seat for the mad-house, and its inhabitants for the patients (among whom, to his utter amazement, he finds his mistress)-and he treats them accordingly. At length he discovers the trick that has been put upon him, and feigns madness in return -gives them a Roland for their Oliver. This reconciles him to Maria; and the old gentleman, for his health's sake, and to gain a little peace and quietness before he dies, consents to both the marriages.

This is really a very excellent farce full of high fun and drollery-the dialogue very gayly and tersely written-the incidents exceedingly well contrived-and the whole forming a most lively and pleasant little piece. It has quite a French air about it-for every nation can do some one thing better than any other nation in the world; and with the French this pre-eminence consists in writing farces. And it is no wonder; for, with them, human life itself is one long but pleasant farce.

"Though last," certainly "not least in our dear love," came Mr Yates and the Interlude. It is a little piece in one act, called Half an Hour in France, and seldom have we spent a pleasanter half hour. Mr Yates,-who, we believe, was a great favourite with our Edinburgh friends, and most deserv edly so,-personates six or seven different characters in it, à la Mathews. We shall not tell him that he equals Mathews-he certainly does not approach him, in what appears to us to be that gentleman's peculiar excellencies;-his admirable and unrivalled tact-his delicacy of perception, amounting to a pitch of genius-his astonishing faculty of going out of himself-as they have been lately evinced in his performance at the English Opera House-a Trip to Paris, &c. (which we regret the less not having had time or space to give an adequate account of, as our Edinburgh readers will no doubt shortly have an opportu nity of judging of it for themselves.) But in the faculty of imitating actual

living models, Mr Yates appears to equal any thing we have ever seen. His imitation of Young was quite extraordinary—it was a fac-simile, and without the slightest caricature. His imitation of Mathews himself was still more amusing, because there was a little exaggeration in it, without which the effect in these cases is not quite pleasant. This performance is the only one in which we have had an opportunity of seeing Mr Yates; so that we are not able to judge of his powers as a comic or tragic actor, for we hear he possesses both. But from this performance alone, added to his extreme youth, we are convinced that he has great cleverness and versatility.*

We now take leave of the reader for this season. We might continue our notices for a month or two longer; but really, at this time of the year, as the summer advances and the sun shines in the evening, the theatre

quite loses its attractions. And this is just as it should be. A good acting drama, of whatever kind, is an admirable thing in its place; but, happily, there are still times and seasons when even a great city can do without it. Not long ago there was a great city— the capital of a state, and the seat of of its government-that could contrive to do without a theatre altogether. ""Tis not so now!" The progress of civilization has created the want, and has supplied it. With all our love for the drama, and all our admiration for the principles of the French revolution, we should be puzzled to fix upon a benefit that has resulted from that event, equivalent to the evil of its having been the cause of rendering a theatre necessary in Switzerland. To have a theatre where it is wanted, is good; but not to want it, is infinitely better. A. Z.

London, June 7, 1819.

Now to thy silent presence, night! Is this my first song offered: Oh! to thee That lookest with thy thousand eyes of light To thee, and thy starry nobility That float with a delicious murmuring, (Tho' unheard here) about thy forehead blue;

And as they ride along in order due, Circling the round globe in their wandering, To thee their ancient queen and mother sing.

Mother of beauty! veiled queen!
Feared and sought, and never seen
Without a heart-imposing feeling,
Whither art thou gently stealing?
In thy smiling presence, I
Kneel in star-struck idolatry,
And turn me to thine eye, (the moon)
Fretting that it must change so soon;
Toying with this idle rhyme,

I scorn that bearded villain time,
Thy old remorseless enemy,

And build my linked verse to thee.—
Not dull and cold, and dark art thou:
Who that beholds thy clearer brow,
Endiadem'd with gentlest streaks

Of fleecy-silver'd cloud, adorning
Thee, fair as when the young sun wakes,
And from his cloudy bondage breaks,

And lights upon the breast of morning, But must feel thy powers; Mightier than the storm that lowers, Fairer than the virgin hours

That smile when the young Aurora scatters Her rose-leaves on the valleys low, And bids her servant breezes blow. Not Apollo, when he dies

In the wild October skies,

Red and stormy; or when he
In his meridian beauty, rides

Over the bosom of the waters,
And turns the blue and burning tides
To silver, is a peer for thee,
In thy full regality.

C.

And many as frank and free;

And a few as fair,

But the summer air

Is not more sweet to me, Mary.

And I'll be true to thee;

And at set of sun

When my task is done,

Be sure that I'm ever with thee, Mary.-X.

M.

return.

Dearly beloved! The creatures of this earth are of a two-fold nature, either occupied with God or taken up with self. Such as are employed with God feel no interest about themselves, and such as are busy with themselves think not of God; but whatever may debase them is downright deception, whether it be spiritual or temporal :till purified from this, thou never canst encircle the temple of the Most High. Parable-Before the prince of the resigned Baeizeed Bastamy one presented himself and said, Ŏ shaikh, my whole life hath been spent in seeking after the Lord; how often did I on foot make the pilgrimage of the Desert; how many infidels' heads did I strike off in the holy wars, and how much hath my heart wallowed in its own blood! But I have not attained

Whilst con

the object of my wish, and the more forward I am pushing, the less near I am approaching. Can you advise any mode by which I may arrive at it? The shaikh answered, Brave youth, this world is exactly a space of two steps, one of which leads to mankind, and the other to God; fall back one step from the creature and you will arrive at the Creator. stantly occupied, and saying, What shall I eat that I may gratify my appetite? and what shall I say that mankind may be pleased with me? you never can attain a true knowledge of the Deity. Brave youth, any traffic you keep up with mankind tends to your loss; deal with God, that all may be profit. The Most High hath said, O helpless being, with you I am dealing in tears and in fears, the tears of supplication and the fears of rejection: the treasure of felicity snatch from the presence of my glory. Those drops which stream down your face are called tears, and those fears which heave from your bosom are called re

morse-let tears fall from my eyes in as much as I did not inform myself of God, and let remorse canker in my heart in as much as I did what was forbidden. Through the tears of the soul you are brought to repentance, and through the remorse of your heart to promise amendment :-a sense of amendment leadeth to resolution, resolution to enthusiasm, and enthusiasm to an union with the Divine presence; when from his universal benevolence will issue the word Mercy. The heart confesseth I have done wrong, the head crieth I repent me of what I did, and the Lord saith I have forgiven it. Brave youth, fire is two-fold; a fire of good and a fire of what is wicked, and there is no fire else. The fire of the appetite the rain of heaven can quench, and the fire of sin the water of the eye can subdue; also the fire of sin two things can extinguish, and those are dust and water; the dust of humiliation and the water of contrition :-the dust of humiliation is prostrate adoration, and the water of contrition is our dread of a loving and affectionate master. Brave youth, every eye that crieth not from a fear of the Lord, its tears owe him a debt; and every heart which yearneth not to embrace God, that heart is a bankrupt. A sage called aloud and said, Ō alas! that the creatures of this world should be journeying through it, and not select this the sweetest of its gifts. He was asked, what gift this was. He answered, The smallest mark of true affection, as the Most High is pleased to say; then will ye most truly worship the Deity when ye shall bring with you a sincere love. Had the poor devotee selected but one small portion of true affection, he might equally have disregarded things spiritual and temporal, this world and the next, or what was unlawful and forbidden. Parable-The son of Khafeef was asked what true affection was. He answered, True affection is a state of bankruptcy! It is ruined circumstances, helplessness, misery, and want! Dearly beloved! if thou hast not the blooming cheek of charmers, it behoves thee to present the yellow tint of lovers; if thou canst not show the fascinating beauty of Joseph, it be comes thee to display the plaintive wretchedness of Jacob; if thou canst not plead the helpless state of the supplicant, it were decent that thou

madest the lamentable moan of the indigent. The prince of both worlds, glory of the sons of man, (on whom and his be salutation and peace,) has said, No voice is more acceptable before God than the petition of the indigent; no supplication is more graciously received at the tribunal full of glory, than the desire of the needy sinner, who in his distress, penury, and wretchedness, setteth forth his lamentation and saith, O Lord, I have done an act of sin and a tyranny against my own soul. From the sublime presence a voice descendeth, saying, That deed which thou didst not of thyself exact, me thou wilt entreat, and on thy account I will give my assent me thou wilt crave that I may give my leave: whatever thou mayest want thou wilt ask of me; trust thy concerns to my accomplishment, for I am the Deity, I am what I am without why or wherefore; in sovereignty paramount, faithful to my promise, ratifying every petition, listening to all praise, and meriting every encomium. A hundred thousand household establishments have been squandered in quest of me; a hundred thousand bodies have melted away in the mortification of seeking after me; a hundred thousand holy souls are gone distracted in the wilderness of my affection; a hundred thousand pilgrims beat their heads upon the stone of tribulation at the temple of my glory; and a hundred thousand of such as court my illustrious presence burn in the crucible of austere penance. The ninth heaven asketh the divine throne, O thou

hast thou any intimation of him? and the throne answers the ninth heaven, And dost thou understand any thing that concerneth him? When the inhabitants of this earth have a supplication to make, they turn their faces up to heaven, hoping that the sky may relieve the pain of their hearts; and the community of the sky, when they have a prayer to prefer, cast their eyes upon the earth, expecting that thence they will find the cure of their affliction. Every day at even when the orb of light goeth down, the angels that attend him O sun! hast thou to-day shone upon any one who hath a knowledge of Him? The sun maketh answer, Would to God I could know who that person were, that I might render the dust of his feet the sphere of my or

say,

bit! Yes! brave youth, what likeness has dust (i. e. man) with the Lord of lords? what business have gross earth and water with the pure essence of the Deity? How can non-entity mingle with eternity? What communication can the savage and ignorant hold with the godly and intelligent? Most wonderful of works! The pious say in their prayers, Do not, O God! separate us from ourselves. Alas! short sighted mortal! with whom could I mingle that I should separate, or from whom could I be cut off that I should mingle ;-how entertain a hope of meeting while there might remain a fear of separation; or how could there be a dread of separation while there exists a hope of meeting? There is neither communication nor separation, neither nearness nor distance, neither expectancy nor despair, neither the faculty of speech nor the ability of silence, neither the face of going on nor the resolution of returning, neither the idea of forbearance nor sentiment of impatience, neither place to which the fancy can soar, nor time on which the imagination can fix. In the hands of philosophers there is nought but discussion; in the midst of divines there is nought but animadversion. If thou journeyest to the Cabeh, there thou seest a stone; if thou enterest a Mosjed, there meetest thou a wall; if thou lookest upon the people of this earth, thou beholdest nought but misery; if thou contemplatest the sky, thou meditatest on what must stupify; the giddiness of the brain is sheer melancholy, and the fumes of the head downright insanity. From the sunshine of day, there is noontide fervour; from the gloominess of night, terror and dismay; from the unity of Unitarians, there is only ornament and glory; from the blasphemy of infidels, hideous infamy; from Moses the preacher, no profit; from Pharoah the pretender, no loss; -if thou comest, enter, for there is no porter; if thou art going, depart, for there is no keeper. Parable. The prince of the zealous Ibrahim Khowas was repeatedly remarking to his disciples, Would I were the dust of the footsteps of that veiled object! They asked him and said, O sage, thou art always making panegyrics in his praise, why not direct us to the place of his abode? He replied, On a certain occasion I found myself fervently inclined,

and turning my face towards the wilderness, walked on in an ecstacy of enthusiasm. Arriving at length in the territory of the infidels, I beheld a citadel with three hundred and odd heads suspended from its turrets. Astonished at what I saw, I asked what these meant, and who was the lord of this citadel? They answered, It belongs to such a prince, whose daughter is gone mad. It came into my head to undertake the cure of this damsel. On entering the castle, they presented me to its lord. He received me with much magnificence and attention, and asked, O generous youth! what brought thee into this place? I answered, I understood that thou hast a daughter who is gone mad; I am come to administer unto her. He turned to me and said, Behold the turrets of this citadel. I answered, I have beheld them, and have entered nevertheless. Then he said, Those are the heads of such as have prescribed different medicines, but were disappointed in curing her. Thou also must take warning, that if thou failest in thy attempt, thy head will take its place among the rest. After this, he desired that I should be introduced to the young lady. No sooner had I put my foot over the threshold of her apartment, than she called to her hand-maid and said, Bring hither my veil that I may cover my head. The hand-maid answered, How many physicians, O lady, did visit thee, and thou never yet veiledst thyself before any of them? How comes it to pass that thou coverest thy self before this man? She said, Those were not men full of faith as this man is, who now approacheth. Then I said, As salaamu alaicum, Peace be with thee! She replied, Alaicumas salaamu, With thee be peace, O son of Khowas! I asked, How camest thou to know that I am the son of Khowas? She answered, He that directed thee to me, inspired me with the faculty of knowing thee. Art thou not aware that one true believer is the mirror of his brother? when a glass is void of tarnish, it will reflect any image. O son of Khowas, I hold a heart wrung with anguish; hast thou any potion that might administer to its comfort? This text ran spontaneously from my tongue; Such as are steadfast believers, and resolute in commemorating the Deity, can it be otherwise than that their hearts must feel fortified in