fhall always be open to you. Now, God's bleffing be with you, young man !

lord:

Frederick. (taking the louis-d'or) You are very generous, my you give me money, and are not fparing of good advice. But I defire your help in a matter of much greater moment. are a powerful man; aid me, then, to bring to justice an unna

tural father.

• Colonel. How?--Who is your father?,

You

Frederick. (farcaftically) O, he is a great baron, of a large eftate esteemed at court, refpected in the capital, and honoured in the country. Above all, he is benevolent, honest, and brave.

you

Colonel. And yet fuffers his fon to be in want? Frederick. And yet fuffers his fon to be in want. Colonel. Perhaps, my friend, you have deferved it: may have been wild, lafcivious—a fpendthrift, a gamester? Such things are; and your father may think it prudent to let you march behind the drum for a few years.-The found of the drum is an excellent fpecific in fuch cafes; and if this be your cafe, I am far from difapproving your father's conduct.

Frederick. So far from that, my lord, he does not so much as know me. He abandoned me, even in my mother's womb. • Colonel. What?

Frederick. The tears of my mother were all the wealth he left me. He has never enquired after me never taken the leaft trouble about me.

Colonel. Monster!

Frederick. I am a child of love. My poor, feduced mother, has reared me in the midft of grief and forrow. She has, however, by labouring hard, afforded as much as was neceffary to give me fome education; and I, therefore, confider myself worthy the regard of a father, who would be deferving of fuch a fon. But, alas! this is no concern of his; and his confcience fuffers him to continue regardless of the fate of his unhappy child.

• Colonel. Regardless ?—That cannot be.

• Frederick. When I was grown up, I had no other means of relieving my mother, than going into the army, baftards being precluded every other profeffion.

Colonel. Unfortunate young man!

Frederick. Nature has made forrow and grief the companions of age, and bestowed chearfulness on youth, to prepare it for the fufferings of declining years. I never knew chearfulness.-My enjoyments have been the hard fare of a common foldier, and the feverity of the ferjeant into the bargain. But what is this to my father? His table is covered with plenty; and he laughs at the upbraidings of confcience.

Colonel. (afide) His story touches m.

Frederick. After an abfence of five years, I return this very day to my native country, full of fw et filial dreams, and find my

poor mother almost starved to death, with not fo much as a bundle of straw to repofe her head on, or a roof to fhelter her from the changes of the seasons.-Not one charitable being near her, to close her eyes, nor even a fpot of earth to die on in peace. But what is all this to my father?-He has an elegant country-houfe amply furnished with all the luxuries of life, and when he dies, the priest will exalt his chriftianlike virtues in a funeral fermon.

Colonel. Tell me, young man, what is the name of your

father.

• Frederick. That he has by falfhood deceived an innocent and unwary girl that he has given existence to an unhappy being, who curfes him that he has almoft made his own fon a parriall these horrible crimes are trifles to be atoned for before the fupreme judge of man, by a piece of gold-like that! (throwing the louis d'or at the feet of the colonel.)

cide;

Colonel. Who is thy father?

Frederick. You!

• Colonel. (covers his face with his hands, and ftands Speechless.) Frederick. (in great emotion) In this house, perhaps in this very room, you betrayed the innocence of my mother, and to render her mifery complete, begot a fon. Now, fir, I am again your prifoner -I will be your prifoner. I am a robber I accufe myself – Let juftice have its way. You fhall attend my execution - fhall fee how vainly the minifters of religion will endeavour to give me comfort fhall hear how my last despairing words will curfe you. Then come, and ftand near me, when my head is fevered off, that my blood, nay, thine own blood, may besprinkle your garments.Colonel. Silence, I entreat you !

• Frederick. And on your return from the scaffold, you shall find my mother breathing her last.

Colonel. Leave off, monfter!

Enter the Parfon haftily.

Parfon. What is the matter here? I hear a violent altercation. Young man, what have you dared to do?

• Frederick. I have dared for a moment to do your business, fir. I have shook the finner! Look there, and see how a moment's luft is punished after twenty-one years. I am a robber, fir, and a murderer; but what I now feel is the blifs of heaven compared with what that guilty man endures. Now let juftice have its course, that my blood may witnefs against him. [Exit Frederick P. 80.

The piece concludes with the determination of the baron, notwithstanding the pride and prejudice of rank, to marry Wilhelmina; a reparation to which he is influenced by the conduct of his fon, and the arguments of the clergyman of the village. To this minifter, who is an amiable and vir tuous young man, he even condefcends to give his daughter,

ather than to a man of fashion, a coxcomb, who pays his addreffes to her. It may perhaps be justly affirmed, that the character of the daughter is not natural. There is fomewhat of the fimple forwardness of Athanafia * in her; but there is not the fame excufe for it. This objection, however, detracts little from the merit of the play, which, we think, muft interest every reader of fenfibility.

Mifs Plumptre's tranflation of the fame piece feems to be, in general, lefs ftiff and constrained than that of Mr. Porter and it is perhaps lefs faithful; but this point we cannot determine, as we have not feen the original. A part of the fcene in which the father and fon have an interview, we will give from her publication.

• Baron. (Shuddering.) Young man, what is thy father's name? • Fred. That he abufed the weakness of a guiltless maiden,—-deceived her through false oaths—that he gave existence to an unhappy wretch, who muft curfe him for the fatal gift-that he has driven his only fon almoft to parricide-Oh thefe are trifles-and when the day of reckoning comes, may all be paid for by a piece of gold (throws the louis-d'or at the baron's feet.)

I

Baron. (half diftracted.) Young man, tell me thy father's name! Fred. Baron Wildenhain! (The baron ftrikes his forehead with both hands, and remains fixed to the Spot where he fands. Frederick proceeds with violent emotion.) Yes, in this houfe, in this very room, perhaps, was my mother beguiled of her virtue, and I was begotten for the fword of the executioner. And now, my lord, I am not free I am your prifoner-I will not be free. am a highway-robber-loudly do I accufe myself as fuch-you fhall confign me over to the hand of juftice-shall conduct me to the place of execution-you shall hear how the priest seeks in vain to calm my mind-fhall hear how in defpair I curfe my fatherfall stand by me as the head falls from the trunk-and my blood your own blood-fhall fprinkle your garments.

Baron. Oh hold! hold!

• Fred. And when you turn from this fcene, and descend fromthe fcaffold-there at its foot fhall you find my mother, even at the moment that the draws her last breath fighs out her foul in anguifh!

Baron. Inhuman! hold! (The paftor rushes in haftily.) Paftor. Heavens what is the matter?-I hear impaffioned words! what has been paffing here? young man, I hope you

ve not attempted— ·

Fred. Yes, fir, I have attempted to take your office from your hands I have made a finner tremble! (pointing to the baron.) See there thus after a lapfe of one and twenty years, the injuries

* In Kotzebue's Count Benyowiky.

arifing from inordinate paffions, are revenged.I am a murderer→→→ I am a highway-robber-but what I feel in this moment is tranf→ : port, is blifs, compared with the thorns which lacerate his breast. go to furrender my felf up to juftice, and then at the throne of heaven will I appear a bloody witness against this man. [Exit.' P. 59.

I

That Mrs. Inchbald has well adapted this play of Kotzebue to the taste of an English public, is evinced by its fuccefs in the representation. The character of Amelia, in our opinion, is in fome degree improved; but not so much as Mrs. Inchbald feems to imagine. She says,

The part of Amelia has been a very particular object of my folicitude and alteration: the fame fituations which the author gave her remain, but almoft all the dialogue of the character I have changed: the forward and unequivocal manner in which she announces her affection to her lover, in the original, would have been revolting to an English audience: the paffion of love, reprefented on the ftage, is certain to be infipid or disgusting, unless it creates fmiles or tears: Amelia's love, by Kotzebue, is indelicately blunt, and yet void of mirth or fadness: I have endeavoured to attach the attention and fympathy of the audience by whimsical infinuations, rather than coarfe abruptness-the fame woman, I conceive, whom the author drew, with the self-fame fentiments, but with manners adapted to the English rather than the German taste; and if the favour in which this character is held by the audience, together with every fentence and incident which I have prefumed to introduce in the play, may be offered as the criterion of my skill, I am fufficiently rewarded for the task I have performed.' P. iii.

In the altered play, the last scene is thus exhibited :

• Baron. Amelia, you have a brother.

• Amelia. I have just heard fo, my lord; and rejoice to find the news confirmed by you.

• Baron. I know, my dear Amelia, I can repay you for the loss of count Caffel; but what return can I make to you for the loss of half your fortune?

Amelia. My brother's love will be ample recompenfe. Baron, I will reward you better. Mr. Anhalt, the battle I have just fought, I awe to myself: the victory I gained, I owe to you. A man of your principles, at once a teacher and an example of virtue, exalts his rank in life to a level with the nobleft family-and I shall be proud to receive you as my fon.

• Anhalt [falling on his knees, and taking the baron's hand]. My lord, you overwhelm me with confufion, as well as with joy.

Baron. My obligations to you are infinite-Amelia shall pay the debt. [Gives her to him.]

Amelia. Oh, my dear father! [embracing the baren] what

bleffings have you bestowed on me in one day. [to Anhalt.] 1 will be your scholar ftill, and ufe more diligence than ever to please my mafter.

Anhalt. His present happiness admits of no addition.

Baron. Nor does mine-And yet there is another task to perform that will require more fortitude, more courage, than this has done! A trial that!-[burfts into tears]-I cannot prevent them-Let me - let me A few minutes will bring me to myself -Where is Agatha ?

Anhalt. I will go, and fetch her. [Exit Anhalt at an upper entrance.]

Baron. Stop! Let me first recover a little. [Walks up and down, fighing bitterly-looks at the door through which Anhalt left the room.] That door fhe will come from-That was once the dreffing-room of my mother-From that door I have feen her come many times have been delighted with her lovely fimilesHow fhall I now behold her altered looks! Frederick must be my mediator. Where is he? Where is my fon? Now I am ready

my heart is prepared to receive her-Hafte! hafte! Bring her in. [He looks ftedfaftly at the door-Anhalt leads on Agatha-The Baron runs and clafps her in his arms-Supported by him, he finks on a chair which Amelia places in the middle of the ftage-The Baron kneels by her fide, holding her hand.]

Baron. Agatha, Agatha, do you know this voice?

C Agatha. Wildenhaim.

Baron. Can you forgive me?

Agatha. I forgive you. [embracing him.]

་

• Frederick [as he enters]. I hear the voice of my mother!Ha! mother! father! [Frederick throws himself on his knees by the other fide of his mother-She clafps him in her arms.~) -Amelia is placed on the fide of her father attentively viewing Agatha-Anhalt Hands on the fide of Frederick with his hands gratefully raifęd to heaven.] The curtain flowly drops.' P. 88.

The favourable reception given to this piece and to the Stranger, will, we hope, convince our dramatifts, that the aid of buffoonery is not indifpenfable.

Obfervations on the Structure, Economy, and Difeafes of the Foot of the Horfe, &c. By Edward Coleman." (Continued from p. 155.)

It is of great importance' (Mr. Coleman fays) to preferve the frog found, for, when cut, it becomes highly fufceptible of every impreffion: we might with as much wifdom remove the skin of the human foot, when obliged to walk on stones, without shoes.” *. 35.