tues, and esteem him as a man, but I detest and deplore his politics. Mr. Buchan's speech was a flourish of trumpets,-a volume of sound -signifying nothing; and his language in one instance the language of an inflamed and intolerant bigot. He boldly said that "no punishment could be devised severe enough to punish any one, who would advise a creation of peers!" I will not comment upon this language it carries its own character. But I will advert to the subject for a moment. When Pitt-the landowners' Alpha and Omega--wished to add a hundred members to the Counties, and failed,—to what measure did he resort to obtain the corrupt, and dangerous influence of the crown in which he had been thwarted?-HE RAISED THIRTY OF HIS TOOLS TO THE PEERAGE! And those thirty new lords returned FORTY MEMBERS to the House of Commons. But for these thirty Pitt tools, and the last Bill would have passed, with the approbation of all the old nobility of the country. And if Pitt created thirty lords to oppress the nation has not the nation-the government-our good old king, an undoubted right to create thirty more, to destroy the yoke of Pitt's thirty?

They ask us if we understand the duty and importance of the House of Peers?—I think both may be summed up in a few words,they are to stand between the king and the people, to prevent oppression on the one hand, and democratic phrensy on the other. But they are not to stand against the king, the government and the people. There is a difference betwixt standing on the breach, and tauntingly springing upon the wall. Their duty is to reconcile both, not to oppose both. They are as the face of the king to the nation. And every mixed government must be in a continual state of improvement. Revolution is the burden of Mr. Buchan's speech, and he tells us that concession was the ruin of Louis XVI. Was concession the ruin of his brother Charles?-It was not concession that brought Louis to the scaffold. Louis was a weak addle-headed, well-meaning fool. To-day he was the friend of the people,-to-morrow he was governed by his unfortunate, but prejudiced and bigotted wife; and the next day by whoever happened to be minister. After making some concessions, had he not in 1789, when the States-general became embodied in the National Assembly, wished to destroy the assembly by military power, and crush the people of Paris by putting them to the sword, he or his family had still reigned. The knowledge of this ne cessarily exasperated the citizens; and then did the patriotic and immortal La Fayette carry a measure in the teeth of him and his ministers, that they should be responsible for every attack upon the rights and liberties of the nation. Still all would have been tranquil, had his, or rather his queen's sentiments, not been imbibed by his body guard, who were odious to the people, and who insultingly offered indignities to the people's symbol of Freedom. Then the already inflamed nation was aroused; and then indeed did Louis begin the trade of yielding when the infuriated multitude had entered his very palace, and stained it with the blood of those who surrounded him. And then he found too late, Royalty was only a name. But for the best account of those facts, which has been laid before the world, and which made the Revolution popular in Britain, I refer you

to the pages of our own eloquent and enlightened HELEN MARIA WILLIAMS.

Mr. DALTON—What do you mean by saying our own, Mr. NÉPTUNE?

Mr. NEPTUNE-Simply, that the elegant translator of "Paul and Virginia"-the Authoress of "Letters from France, in the summer of 1790"-of several of the most eloquent political works in our language, and of much exquisite poetry, resided in our good town of Berwick upon Tweed, until she was eighteen years of age.

Mr. CLASSUM-What! have we the honour of calling the most accomplished female writer of the age our townswoman.

Mr. NEPTUNE--We have---and more hereafter. Mr. Buchan admits the system of representation in Scotland is "exclusively aristocratic!" If we have this barefaced confession, how, in the name of common-sense, how can the representatives be the representatives of the people,---when even he admits that it is a subject in which they who are concerned have no voice---no share. And according to him they have no right to have either. Why even the Toriest of Torv lords Wharncliffe---thought the Scotch system so odiously bad, that the Reform proposed by the last Bill would meet with no opposition. And the great Lord Chancellor Thurlow said "the Scotch representation was a downright MOCKERY of the name of representation." Scotland is a mere nest of rotten boroughs. The chief fear expressed by Mr. Buchan and the others is, that Reform will enable us to shake off those opes irritamenta malorum---the Corn Laws. These, gentlemen, are a mill-stone around the neck of our commerce and manufactures. British power lies in two things--so said Burke--in our Constitution and Commerce. Now, gentlemen, these laws, by raising the necessaries of life, make the price of labour such, that in every market we must of necessity be shortly cut out by the manufacturers of other countries. But for these laws, and we could produce corn and manufactures cheaper than any country,--but these laws render us unable to sell. They are a disgrace to our statute book. If we speak of the fetters imposed upon our commerce by the American tariff-the American points the finger of scorn at our Corn Lawssaying, behold the cause!-and we blush in confusion. Is it not against the just law of nations as it is against the law of nature, that wheat should be consuming in the granaries of the people of Poland, while they are in want of the manufactures of our country to clothe them, and we are in need of their wasting corn to feed us. At present, gentlemen, we have not time to enter upon the subject; and I therefore propose that the CORN LAWS and the principles of FREE TRADE, form the subject of conversation on another meeting. Mr. DALTON-Gentlemen, I protest against

Mr. NEPTUNE-Gentlemen, I insist

Mr. FEUAR-Weel, Sirs, as it is getting late, I've only this to say, I will then gie ye my views upon the subject as a practical farmer. And in the meantime, I'll just gie ye a bit sang upon the subject o' Reform, by way o' saying "gude nicht and joy be wi' ye a'."

CHORUS-Reform is routing them a'! them a'!
Reform is routing them a'!

Auld Bigotry's dieing, an' slavery's fleeing,
An' Liberty's shouting hurra! hurra!

I.

O! YE are the wale o' kings, Willie

O ye are the wale o' kings!

Glad Freedom lough,-when a chield sae teugh,
Gae Slavery's laws the fling, Willie !

II.

We're owre wise now for slaves, Willie→→
We're owre wise now for slaves!—
A nation's word-is a mighty sword!-
It shouts like a thousand waves, Willie !

III.

Folk say that might is right, Willie-
Folk say that might is right!-

If this be true-I wat it is now

When country an' king unite, Willie !

IV.

And wha before us stand, Willie?

An wha before us stand?

But men o' straw,-at the best are a'
Corruption's feckless band, Willie !

V.

We've souls within our breasts, Willie!
We've souls within our breasts!-
We'll no be slaves, to poor lordly knaves,
Nor yet to owre-fed priests, Willie.

УІ.

We felt oppression's heel, Willie !
We felt oppression's heel!

We felt it gore, and we patient bore,
A yoke o' gilded steel, Willie !

VII.

But now we'll hae REFORM, Willie !—
But now we'll hae REFORM!

A fig for foes!-can shadows oppose
The wrath o' an ocean storm, Willie !

Exeunt Omnes—IN FULL CHORUS !

THE HEBREW MOTHER.

BY DELLA CRUSCA.

If thou wouldst stay, e'en as thou art,
All cold and all serene-

I still might press thy silent heart,

And where thy smiles have been!
While e'en thy chill, bleak corse I have,
Thou seemest still mine own;
But there I lay thee in thy grave-
And I am now alone!

REV. CHARLES WOLFE.

My baby! my poor dying one! it is a rending thing,
To hang o'er helpless infancy, and see it withering

In deep and silent anguish, like a pale and early flower
That has met the tempest in its might, in a cold and wintry hour.

.

It is not well for thee, my babe, when thine own mother's breast,—
That holiest home of all the earth,-can't lull thee o'er to rest;
And yet, perhaps, my sorrowing has dimm'd thy bright young brow,
And brought the hand of sickness down upon my first-born now.

I do repent me of my grief, for though the spoiler's sword
Hath slain thy honour'd sire, and smote the chosen of the Lord,
I know my deep maternity could well have borne their chain,
Had thy smile shed its soothing o'er the mind and body's pain.

Oh! had my impious murmuring-my hours of dark despair
Been spent with HIM, the Comforter, in confidence of prayer,
I might have lean'd upon HIS staff, when crush'd with human ill,
And seen the Everlasting Arms encircling Judah still !—

But we are like a scatter'd flock, without a shelt'ring fold,
And our Almighty Shepherd's voice is silent as of old

When Israel served the Hivites' gods, and bow'd a willing knee
To Baalim and the groves, and did despite, O God, to THEE.

Our harps that on the willows hang have lost their buoyant tone,
And our crush'd spirits have forgot the music once their own;
And yet the Gentile asks for mirth who did us captive bring,
As if the exil'd Hebrew could the songs of Zion sing!

Jerusalem! Jerusalem! thou city of our God!

My thoughts will ever linger where my soul hath its abode ;-
And from thy hallowed temple they never shall depart
Till penitence and tears subdue the hard and stony heart.

The rivers of proud Babylon are not like Jordan's tide,
For there the palm and olive grow in all their summer pride;
And yet forsaken Israel must weep by Babel's streams,
And only hail their father-land in slumber's broken dreams.

Thou wak'st my babe, thy mother's voice, thou seem'st to know once

more,

Or dost thou take a farewell look, ere life's last struggle's o'er,
Woe! for thy vine-clad home! that thou from Judah's land art thrust,
When thy young heart, my fatherless! is gather'd to the dust!

Oh! when in Sharon's plain ye smil'd on thy young mother's knee, And when those hands the rose-buds wove in rich long wreathes for thee;

She little thought that hour would wane, when she must sit and wail In widow'd solitude to find life's fairest promise fail!

Thou'lt leave my fostering breast to make thy cradle in the grave,—
And take thy quiet rest where now yon weeping willows wave;
But pure as dew of Hermon shall my tear-drops fall to steep
The flowers that deck the spot where he, my undefil'd, shall sleep,

Thy gentle grasp is on me now, yet ah! it but reveals,
The keen, and heart-consuming pain thy heaving bosom feels,-
And now there's nothing in that gaze--the light---the life is fled---
Support me, O thou Rock of Strength! my beautiful is dead!

THE ALPINE HORN.

From the German of Reichard.

When

THE Alpine Horn has in the high-lands of Switzerland, besides the tuning of the cow-call, another religious and solemn use. the sun has set in the vale, and the heavenly light gleams only on the summit of the snowy mountains, then the shepherd, who lives on the highest of the Alps, takes his horn, and exclaims through this speaking-trumpet-PRAISE GOD THE LORD! All the shepherds in the neighbourhood, as soon as they hear the sound, issue from their huts, take their horns, and repeat the same words. This frequently lasts for the space of a quarter of an hour, and from the mountains and the sides of the rocks, the echo is heard to articulate the name of God. At length a solemn stillness succeeds. All pray, kneeling, and with uncovered head. In the mean time, it is become perfectly dark GOOD NIGHT! now again cries the highest inhabitant through his Sprachrohr*; GOOD NIGHT! reverberates from every mountain, from the horns of the shepherds and the clefts of the rocks. Here, upon, each lays himself down to rest.

• Speaking-trumpet.