How delightful it is to see a whole nation rise in arms in the common cause, and lose all private considerations in their zeal to advance the public good: the philosopher contemplates them with complacency, and the patriot with rapture. Even the philanthropist invokes a blessing on their weapons, and smiles through his tears to see that the iron hand of war has not only girded with swords, the foes of man to destroy, but also the friends of man to save from destruction; and, when it is considered that a nation marked out for prey, and threatened with invasion by a bold and mighty enemy, is of all others a spectacle most interesting and awful, the heroic actions and magnificent deeds of kings and conquerors sink in the estimation, when compared with the hostile fronts of these five hundred thousand of her sons, resolved to preserve her free, or perish with her. When it is considered also, that the eyes of the world are upon them, and that they are the champions not only of their own, but of the general independence of Europe and of man, I cannot conceive any thing beyond to heighten or dig nify the picture. Methinks every heart must applaud them, and every tongue put up a prayer for their success. To them look up for protection, the young, the old, the weak, and the infirm, the wives of their bosoms, and the children of their loins; and, I trust, the appeal will not be in vain, but that heaven will assist them in this cause of justice, their own independence, and of man. Let their enemies tremble, but let their friends rejoice at the numbers and spirit of their champions; for such must surely be invincible, and

will receive as their due the meed of victory. To them shall the chorus of praise arise, and for ever shall they live in the remembrance of Britain. Aftertimes shall look back to their existence as the revived era of patriotism and ancient virtue, and the vices and follies of the day be forgotten or overlooked in the contemplation of their glory. The historian, when he comes to narrate of them, shall plume his wings afresh, and address himself with collected powers to the task. He shall tell of their numbers, their strength, their enthusiasm, their free and devoted sacrifice of themselves for the public weal, their generous contempt of gain, and patient endurance of fatigue; and he will hold up their example to the imitation of mankind.

"For sweet is the breath of fame, sweet the praises of the hero, and sweet the minstrel's song, which bears his deeds of valour down to the latest times. Noble is the monument of the patriot entombed in their hearts, whom his valour has saved, and sacred his grave bedewed with the grateful tears of his country."

F.

The Critique on the New Piece of Cinderella is unavoidably postponed until the next Number.

I DO

Do not entertain the opinion that there is not any thing that deserves notice but great and mighty matters, and that in the mention of the drama, a farce, or a pantomime, is below criticism; I am of opinion, that every thing which is good of its kind, should be preserved; a mite is acceptable in the work of charity, and in that of truth or morality the humblest attempt to uphold virtue, and to correct the heart, has its value in proportion as it serves to assist the great cause of humanity, and to add up something more in the sum of good to man. In the present depraved state of morals and taste, even a pantomime may serve to refresh the memory, and bring the old-fashioned lessons we received in childhood to our recollection, to make us continue to be pleased with virtue, and in love with the unalterable character of truth. I shall, therefore, upon

U

these grounds detail the performance of the new piece called CINDERELLA, or the Glass Slipper; and first, of the plot. The goddess Venus, and the little god Cupid, who certainly make themselves as busy with mortals as any of the other deities, be they who they may, are represented as desirous to enslave a young handsome prince in the toils of virtuous love, and a great deal of consultation is held in heaven (and a very beautiful place heaven is represented to be): at this consultation, Venus decides upon the proper object for the prince's love; and by her extraordinary judgment in such affairs, finds her out in the person of the unhappy Cinderella, who suffers every thing disgraceful from the cruelty and contempt of her two sisters, who do not altogether vary in the features of character from many fine ladies of the present day. Poor Cinderella is kept in the kitchen to do the domestic duties of a servant; a man is also kept, and, at the commands of his mistress, his duty is to domineer over, and to perplex the unfortunate Cinderella; a middle character, known also in common life, where ignorance assumes fresh arrogance upon derived consequence, and oppresses and insults the weak. Not so this honest fellow, who seeks opportunities to comfort the debased and distrest Cinderella; and, as it not unfrequently happens in real life, an apparently trifling incident leads to a great event. A poor beggar boy, attended by his mother, comes to the door of the two sisters, but are rejected with scorn; for the ladies are invited to the ball to be given by the young prince, and pride and vanity occupy their minds. The poor beggar boy,

who is, in fact, Cupid, attended by one of the companions of Venus, having been turned out of the upper room, visits the kitchen, and there ask food of the humble Cinderella. Here nature prevails, and, affectionate to the poor, she divides with them her scanty meal, supplied her by the honest attendant: the moral, which effects so much in the original story upon the young mind, now begins to appear, and the heart beats with the delightful impulse attending the contemplation of a kind and good action. She gives-and she receives a reward she did not expect; and she who was insultingly refused a ticket for the ball by her sisters, is invited to it by Cupid, who assumes the dress of the prince's page. A pumpkin becomes changed into a magnificent car, and some mice let out of a trap are transformed into six handsome ponies; absurd as this may appear to a cold and torpid specta'tor, it certainly does awaken in the sensible mind lively impressions of the success of good intentions, attended with a glow of triumph on the side of virtue, Cinderella receives, however, a charge to quit the ball before the hour of twelve; from which this moral may be drawn that we can only indulge pleasure with safety while we use it with discretion. At the ball, Cinderella is not known by her flaunty sisters; but she occupies the sole attention of the prince, becomes his partner, and is seated by his side-a true emblem of vicissitude in life. The time now advances fast to the limited hour, but love (and the idea has much naivetè and

auty) manages to put back the hand of the dial. Inerable Time, however, rectifies the mistake, and