Copyright Dramas.

THE SMUGGLER OF CALVADOS.

AN ORIGINAL DRAMA IN THREE ACTS.

(The Author's rights reserved.)

ACT I.-SCENE 1.-(CONTINUED.) EMBERIC.-(Opens practical cupboard in wainscot.) I think, sister, that as Walter is at home, we might indulge in a bottle of the supernaculum. What say you, Walter? WALTER.-Why, in my opinion, the juice of the grape more agreeable than all your herb-teas.

(Enter Peggy.)

is

EMBERIC.-What does the girl want now? PEGGY.-Please, sir, there's a man in the hall, who says he must and will see you directly.

EMBERIC.-Who dares to send such an impertinent message to me? What sort of a man is he? Does he look like a patient?

PEGGY.-Anything but a patient man, sir, for he swears awfully. He is so muffled-up that I could not see his face; he spoke gruffly, and so stern, that he made me tremble. He said he could not wait, and if you didn't come to him he'd come to you.

WALTER.-(Rising.)-Shall I go, father, and inquire his

business?

EMBERIC.-(Agitated.)-No! no! no! Do you conduct your aunt into the next apartment. I'll see this mysterious stranger myself. Peggy, show this man in.

(Exit Peggy. Walter and Mrs. Grondews retire. Captain Renaud enters abruptly, wrapped in a boat-cloak, which partly conceals his visage.) RENAUD.-By my faith, Doctor, you are playing the great man in this old château, which you have got possession of by the devil's help. Morbleu! You're as difficult of access as the Minister of Marine. A thousand thunderbolts! Did you take me for Lucifer come to carry you off in a shower of sulphur?

EMBERIC.-(Agitated and confused.)-I am delighted to see you looking so well, Captain Renaud. Had a pleasant-I mean-a profitable trip, eh? What's your pleasure, Captain? (Renaud brings forward a chair, and seats himself hastily.) RENAUD. My pleasure is to talk with you for a few minutes, Emberic; and your pleasure will be to listen to me. There's a little account between us not yet settled.

EMBERIC.-(In alarm.)—What do you mean, Captain? RENAUD.-Oh! don't be alarmed; one is not come to rob you. Have you forgotten the affair of my steersman whose wound you cured?

EMBERIC. (Relieved.)—It is not necessary to speak of that, Captain; I am delighted that I succeeded in that case. The herbs did good. I shall take no money for that service. RENAUD.-Well, the man will be up here to night with another case of prime old Eau-de-vie for you.

EMBERIC.-I don't desire any further recompense-butto oblige you and the sailor-I'll take the brandy. It is quite understood however that I know nothing of where the liquor comes from, or, how it finds its way under the shrubs near to the south-west window, (pointing.)

RENAUD.-Oh! never fear. You will not be compromised. Although the vaults have often contained-before now

EMBERIC.-(Terrified.)-Hush! hush! think what you are saying, Captain: a man, in my position, to be suspected of aiding and abetting outlaws!

RENAUD.-(With movement of impatience.)—A thousand thunders! ha!

EMBERIC.-I mean-that is-gentlemen who do not seek the protection of the law. Consider: what would my son, Walter, say; and he too, an officer in the Royal Navy! And then my sister, Deborah-who is so strict-so serious. No, Captain, I am a respectable man, and quite opposed to your—your profession.

RENAUD.-(Rising.)-What are you driving at, you old

shark?

EMBERIC.-Be calm, I pray you. It must not be suspected that I approve of your profession and wild associates. Ah! If you would take my advice, if you would copy my example, you might quit this-this-dangerous service, and set up for a gentleman returned from California with the fruits of your industry.

RENAUD.-Oh! as to such as I am, it is another thing. We free rovers, we drink and sing at sea, and we drink and gamble on shore. Money is coined round, and so it is always rolling. Besides, I can go where I like. I can walk my keel across the channel; dash over the Atlantic, or take a trip up the Mediterranean. I have nothing left me to love, but my pretty bark, and sometime or other I shall have a ball through my head, or, be buried in a wet jacket in the salt sea. But enough of this. Now for business; minutes are precious. If you will not lend me the vaults of this old place once more; at least, you must have prepared, this very night, two of your best chambers, for the reception of the most valuable part of my cargo. I have said it.

EMBERIC.-(With emotions of terror and indignation.)— Smuggled goods in my house-in my best rooms! You are laughing at me, Captain Renaud.

RENAUD. I laugh no more than I should, were my precious schooner buried in the sea, and when that happens may I be buried with her. No! I do not joke-this very night you will receive the choicest part of my cargo into this house-and you will thank me for it.

EMBERIC.-Ah! I understand-funny joker that you are! You mean

RENAUD.-Nothing that you think. Do I look like a jester? I mean something of greater value than ship, cargo, and crew put together.

EMBERIC.-What then? RENAUD.-A lady.

EMBERIC.-(Startled.)-A smuggler's bride, and here!

Bless me!

RENAUD.-Who she is and what she is signifies nothing. You will receive her with the most respectful attention. You and all your family must behave to her as if she were a

queen,

EMBERIC.-Upon my honour, Captain Renaud, I do not understand you. Here-even here-in my own house-you order me as if I were your cabin-boy, and you dispose of Grosville as you do with your schooner. Suppose I refuse to receive into my family a woman whom I do not know?

RENAUD. In that case Grosville will not long remain in your possession. I can soon bring forward the right heir. He would be grateful for the discovery.

EMBERIC.-Oh dear! oh dear! Captain Renaud, you terrify me-you drive me mad. (To be continued.)

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E. M. M.-Nicely written. It wafts us back to "long ago." Nevertheless, "Hope tells a flattering tale," and we willingly await its pleasing realisation,

*M*-Very good. Shall be inserted in No. 3.

A. S.-What shall we say to our talented correspondent? Will he allow his sarcastic Edipus to unriddle the riddle of his facetious Sphinx? If we read his augury aright, we fancy that we can discern a glimmering of the solution. But we must consult our "Sir Oracle," and wait-as it behoves us to be "wise as serpents and harmless as doves." In the meantime, we beg to offer our best thanks to our scholarly compeer, and assure him that we duly esteem both his contribution and his commendation.

R. G. C.-Try again. The "Inauguration Verses" evince taste and feeling, and we have much pleasure in quoting a few lines as an encouragement. But avoid haste: concentrate the powers of the mind on the subject: do little, but do it well.

SH

"How well he lived: how well-how calm he died;

How 'e'en his failings leaned to virtue's side;'
How true in friendship-faithful, good, and kind,
How gentle and how noble was his mind;
How great in learning, and how pure in thought,
Willing to teach, and willing to be taught."

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SHA

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HE RUINS OF KENILWORTH. A POEM

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F.

LIQUORISH, FURNISHING UNDERTAKER, 14, Brunswick Street, Hackney Road.-Funerals to any of the Cemeteries at stated charges.

ADAMES DIVIE, DEs to return his sincere thanks to his

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J. H. LARGE,

PHARMACEUTICAL CHEMIST, 65, NEW NORTH ROAD, HOXTON, (Two doors from Murray Street.)

FOR

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GENUINE WHEATEN FLOUR, go to Superior Scotch Oatmeal, Brown and Polson's Patent Corn Flour, all kinds of Bird Seeds, First Class COALS at Wharf Prices. And all Articles connected with the Corn trade at the lowest remunerative price.

BIDMEAD.-GENERAL BRASS FINISHER,

G. BELL HANGER AND GAS FITTER.

4, Whitmore Road, Hoxton.

Old Work Cleaned and Lacquered.-Work done for the Trade. F. LLOYD.-CHEESEMONGER and PORKMAN, 58, St. John's Road, Hoxton, N.

C.

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Yes, sir, I know him very well,

In St. John's Road he keeps a store.

For Pork, Bacon, Hams, Lard, and Cheese,
Butter, and Eggs, and Sausages,

See fifty-eight over his door.

His articles are cheap and good,

But let me, sir, be understood,

With a fair profit to derive.

He thanks his friends for favours past, Believes their continuance will last, While competition he defies.

As Sausage Manufacturer,

Made on the spot, he need not fear, Beside him in the Road there's none.

Do not the name of LLOYD forget, It is St. John's Road, fifty-eight. For goods he cannot be outdone.

A. MASTERMAN, Licensed AUCTIONEER, ESTATE, Street, Hoxton.-Established as above 1845.-Sales by Auction of every description of Property, Valuations for all purposes, Executors and Administrators assisted in all matters relating to Doctors' Commons and Somerset House.Legacy Duty Accounts properly prepared, and the duties payable ascertained. Rents collected and Estates managed, Office for Landlords, &c.

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W.

H. BARRY. - PLUMBER, PAINTER, GASFITTER, and HOUSE DECORATOR, 86, Kingsland Road, N. E.-Estimates for General Repairs.

FOR

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MUSIC MADE INTERESTING TO THE YOUNG.

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RS. ALDHAM, 21, Alma Street, New North Road, (daughter of a Professional), having made it her especial study to teach MUSIC in the easiest and most simplified manner, begs to say she has a Vacancy for a few Junior Pupils on WEDNESDAY afternoons.-Terms 15s. per quarter. As Mrs. Aldham now follows the profession purely for amusement, and the interest she feels in the progress of her Pupils, she is enabled to give more special attention to each child than if dependant on it for a livelihood.-Satisfactory references to Parents if required.-Lessons given on other days if more convenient.

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J. L. NURSEY, FAMILY CHEESEMONGER, &c.

37, St. John's Road, Hoxton.-Fine Devonshire Fresh Butter, Dairy-fed Pork, Wiltshire Bacon, &c.

ISS KELSEY, DRESS, CLOAK, and MANTLE MAKER,
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W.

Estimates given for General Repairs.

London Printed and Published by William Reader,

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has dared to break through the old customs and usages, has progress become possible. The man who never doubted, most assuredly has never mastered the first principles of his belief, and is a perfect nonentity in the cause he represents, even though a mightier intellect had demonstrated its truth; he has simply shuffled into the articles of his faith, much after the same fashion as his grandmother, who, without knowing the reason, puts on thick clothing to keep her warm, doffing it again in the dog-days.

Scepticism, or doubt, and I use the terms synonymously, is the forerunner and fructifier of truth. It has torn away the mask from many an old and worn-out creed—it has consolidated, and always will consolidate, a rational one: it has spread its vast web throughout every department of nature and science-brought within the area of civilization the abodes of men hitherto unknown: it has given to man an ambition to use the noble gift entrusted to his keeping, and will lead him, if he be honest in his scepticism-honest in his search after truth-and that right speedily, into its golden palaces. Show me the man who never doubted, and I will show you one of the many clogs to the progressive spirit of an age.

In such a phase of life there is a strange admixture of egotism and cosmopolitanism, but the very egotism of the sceptic is genius. A slave to no moral or physical creed, the honest doubter wanders among the traditions of men, sipping the nectar from a thousand thoughts, but never sacrificing his independence, or the right to be himself; and although you may crush him for the time, by an overbearing intolerance, as was the case with Galileo and Columbus, his slumbering thought may one day blossom into the fair proportions of truth, and live its life of recognized orthodoxy.

The deep lesson to be read is this: that wherever you find a nation or an institution arrogating the absurd and Utopian doctrine of perfection-or branding the honest doubter with infamy-truth has not only been vilified, but split into fragments by an antagonistic reformation. Better then to meet the honest doubter with a becoming sympathy and manliness; demolish his thought by a logical and intelligent argument if you can, stooping neither to intolerance nor subterfuge; failing to do this, we may have to weed an old and cherished system, or remodel it upon more advanced principles of observation and criticism, but in either case truth will be the gainer, and the danger of a spurious and antagonistic scepticism avoided. To the honest and intelligent doubter, we may safely extend our sympathy, or failing to do this, prepare ourselves for that mad enthusiasm which is ever ready to endorse the most monstrous pretensions.

There runs a notion in the world, that virtue is not free from sublunary ills. We grant the fact: but let us not forget, that the very ills we suffer teach us by their dualism to appreciate the blessings we enjoy. Nature always was, and always will be, a hard and pitiless mistress. She deals not in fancy theories-firm and unmovable she performs her allotted work: wring thou the joy from her heart, and she will not resist thee. But, above all, never stoop to the cowardice of despair.

ciation of the beautiful and pure. The very murderer, sullen and irrepentant, amid his load of guilt, will tremble at the sight of his innocent ones, and press them to his bosom with a loving and tender embrace: the voluptuary, while seeking to corrupt the morals of some friendless and unprotected, or it may be protected girl, well knows how to prize and honour virtue, when he purposes taking it to his own soul. There never was a heart so absolutely destitute of sympathy but had, in some secret nook or corner, a germ of God's image implanted in it; and we may rest assured that however insensible to its teachings, there will come a moment or moments when it will speak trumpet-tongued, shaming its owner by the most consummate agony and remorse. The key, then, whereby to estimate a noble life, lies not so much indeed in the work performed, as in the aspiration which underlies it. The widow's mite was a far more acceptable gift than the pompous tribute of the wealthy, and thus by purity of motive, mankind not only becomes strong, but rises superior to the many ills with which its path is so frequently beset.

Strong in the nobility of self-trust, the true worker is a very giant among pigmies, for he will know how to combat evil in its worst phases; and that too, by a becoming resolution and fortitude.

In the courts and alleys of London, ay, and country too, we not only stumble upon coarse brutality, but phases of life of the most distressing character. They are countless as the sands upon the sea-shore, and they crowd upon us, with a most damaging criticism; for, in spite of our civilization, we have wandered from the simplicity of nature. We enter the world and are shuffled to and fro with a remorseless tread. We trip each other up at every turn, and cringe and fawn in utter selfishness. We fight for the silver spoons; and in spite of our vaunted sympathy, are very beggars in charity. Not the charity of show, we have enough of that: huge lists of pretentious names and figures, too often destitute of heart and soul. Our very charity has grown intolerant, passing those pure and simple doctrines taught in days of yore.

Look into yon crowded court! What is the picture? Isolation and destitution, eloquent in the misery with which it is surrounded. And yet there is the same blood flowing through those veins as in that of the noblest among us-the blood of humanity: the same physical configuration of muscle, form, and limb-the universal stamp of Deity in all: but O, how uncared for and despised.

Look, ye Christian men and women! or rather ye who pretend to be such. You filch from a credulous world, hundreds of thousands annually, professedly to nourish such as these. But the lion's share, where is it? swallowed by the machinery of your influence. You have societies in abundance; but to what extent do you minister to the needy and starving? In every court and alley-by the steps of work houses-houseless and in rags-in their own respectable but ruined homes, you may meet with a thousand worthy recipients of your charity. You do your master's work; but O, how different from him. Awake, ye babblers, and rise to manhood, to the pure and noble dignity of Christ.