THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB.

ACT I.

have it for the asking; because the letters addressed to Horace Milliken, Esq., might as well be addressed John

SCENE.-MILLIKEN's villa at Richmond; two drawing-rooms opening into one another. The late Mrs. MILLI-Howell, Esq., for I read 'em, I put KEN's portrait over the mantelpiece; ber 'em. I know his affairs better 'em away and docket 'em, and remembook-cases, writing-tables, piano, newspapers, a handsomely furnished saloon. than he does: his income to a shilling, The back-room opens, with pay very large windows, on the lawn and pleasureground; gate, and wall - over which the heads of a cab and a carriage are seen, as persons arrive. Fruit, and a ladder on the walls. A door to the dining-room, another to the sleepingapartments, &c.

his tradesmen, wear his coats if I like. I may call Mr. Milliken what I please; but not you, you little scamp of a clod-hopping ploughboy. Know your station and do your business, or you don't wear them buttons long, I promise you. [Exit Page.]

Let me go on with the paper. [reads]. How brilliant this writing is! Times," Chronicle," "Daily News," they're all good, blest if they ain't. How much better the nine leaders in them three daily papers is, than nine speeches in the House of Commons! Take a very best speech in the 'Ouse now, and compare it with an article in "The Times!" I say, the newspaper has the best of it for philosophy, for wit, novelty, good sense, too. And the party that writes the leading article is nobody, and the chap that speaks in the House of Commons is a hero. Lord, Lord, how the world is 'umbugged! Pop'lar representation! what is pop'lar representation? Dammy, it's a farce. Hallo! this article is stole! I remember a passage in Montesquieu uncommonly like it. [Goes and gets the book. As he is standing upon sofa to get it, and sitting down to read it, Miss PRIOR

boots for me of the coldest winter mornings. She did when we was in humbler life, she did.

Enter MARY.

You have a good heart, Mary!

MARY. [sadly.]

Have I, dear John?

I

MARY. Not in a free country, should hope, John Howell - no such a thing. A place is a place, and I know mine, and am content with the spear of life in which it pleases heaven to place me, John: and I wish you were, and remembered what we learned from our parson when we went JOHN. Yes, child-yes. I think to school together in dear old Pigeona better never beat in woman's bosom. cot, John - when you used to help You're good to everybody-good to little Mary with her lessons, John, and your parents whom you send half fought Bob Brown, the big butcher's your wages to good to your employ-boy, because he was rude to me, ers whom you never robbed of a half- John, and he gave you that black hi. penny. JOHN.-Say eye, Mary, not heye [gently].

MARY [whimpering]. — Yes, I did, John. I took the jelly when you were in bed with the influenza; and brought you the pork-wine negus.

JOHN.-Port, not pork, child. Pork is the hanimal which Jews ab'or. Port is from Oporto in Portugal.

MARY [still crying]. Yes, John; you know every thing a'most, John. JOHN. And you, poor child, but little! It's not your heart you want, you little trump, it's education, Mary: it's information: it's head, head, head! You can't learn. You never can learn. Your ideers ain't no good. You never can hinterchange 'em with mine. Conversation between us is impossible. It's not your fault. Some people are born clever; some are born tall, I ain't tall.

for

MARY.-Ho! you're big enough me, John. [Offers to take his hand.] JOHN.Let go my 'and- - my a-hand, Mary! I say, some people are born with brains, and some with big figures. Look at that great ass, Bulkeley, Lady K.'s man- the besotted, stupid beast! He's as big as a life-guardsman, but he ain't no more education nor ideers than the ox he feeds on.

MARY.-Law, John, whathever do you mean?

JOHN. - Hm! you know not, little one! you never can know. Have you ever felt the pangs of imprisoned genius? have you ever felt what 'tis to be a slave?

MARY.- Eye; and I thought you never looked better in all your life than you did then: and we both took service at Squire Milliken's-me as dairy-girl, and you as knife-boy; and good masters have they been to us from our youth hup: both old Squire Milliken and Mr. Charles as is master now, and poor Mrs. as is dead, though she had her tantrums— - and I thought we should save up and take "The Milliken Arms and now we have saved up- and now, now, now -oh, you are a stone, a stone, a stone! and I wish you were hung round my neck, and I were put down the well! There's the hup-stairs bell. [She starts, changing her manner as she hears the bell, and exit.]

It's all

We were chil

JOHN [looking after her]. true. Gospel-true. dren in the same village - sat on the same form at school. And it was for her sake that Bob Brown the butcher's boy whopped me. A black eye! I'm not handsome. But if I were ugly as the Saracen's 'Ead, ugly as that beast Bulkeley, I know it would be all the same to Mary. She has never forgot the boy she loved, that brought birds'-nests for her, and spent his halfpenny on cherries, and bought a fairing with his first half-crowna brooch it was, I remember, of two billing doves a-hopping on one twig, and brought it home for little yellowhaired, blue-eyed, red-cheeked Mary. Lord, Lord! I don't like to think

how I've kissed 'em, the pretty cheeks! | enchantress, this gazelle, I forgot they've got quite pale now with cry- poor little Mary Barlow, how could I ing and she has never once re- help it? I say, how the doose could proached me, not once, the trump, I help it? the little tr-rump!

Enter Lady KICklebury, BulkELEY
following with parcels and a spaniel.
LADY K. Are the children and
the governess come home?
JOHN. -

Yes, my lady [in a per

fectly altered tone].

LADY K.-Bulkeley, take those parcels to my sitting-room. JOHN.

Get up, old stoopid. Push along, old daddylonglegs [aside to BULKELEY].

LADY K.-Does any one dine here to-day, Howell?

JOHN. Captain Touchit, my lady.
LADY K. He's always dining

here.

-

He

JOHN. My master's oldest friend. LADY K. Don't tell me. comes from his club. He smells of smoke; he is a low, vulgar person. Send Pinhorn up to me when you go down stairs. [Exit Lady K.]

Is it my fault [stamping] that Fate has separated us? Why did my young master take me up to Oxford, and give me the run of his libery and the society of the best scouts in the University? Why did he take me abroad? Why have I been to Italy, France, Jummany with him their manners noted and their realms surveyed, by jingo! I've improved myself, and Mary has remained as you was. I try a conversation, and she can't respond. She's never got a word of poetry beyond Watt's Ims, and if I talk of Byron or Moore to her, I'm blest if she knows any thing more about 'em than the cook, who is as hignorant as a pig, or that beast Bulkeley, Lady Kick's footman. Above all, why, why did I see the woman upon whom my wretched heart is fixed forever, and who carries away my soul with her- prostrate, I say, JOHN.I know. Send Pinhorn prostrate, through the mud at the to me, means, Send my bonny brown skirts of her gownd! Enslaver! hair, and send my beautiful complexwhy did I ever come near you? Oion, and send my figure—and, O enchantress Kelipso! how you have Lord! O Lord! what an old tigress got hold of me! It was Fate, Fate, that is! What an old Hector! How Fate. When Mrs. Milliken fell ill of she do twist Milliken round her scarlet fever at Naples, Milliken was thumb! He's born to be bullied by away at Petersborough, Rooshia, women: and I remember him henlooking after his property. Her for- pecked-let's see, ever since-ever ing woman fled. Me and the govern- since the time of that little gloveress ess remained and nursed her and the at Woodstock, whose picter poor Mrs. children. We nursed the little ones M. made such a noise about when she out of the fever. We buried their found it in the lumber-room. Heh! mother. We brought the children her picture will be going into the home over Halp and Happenine. I lumber-room some day. M. must nursed 'em all three. I tended 'em marry to get rid of his mother-in-law all three, the orphans, and the lovely and mother over him: no man can gu-gu-governess. At Rome, where stand it, not M. himself, who's a Job she took ill, I waited on her; as we of a man. Isn't he, look at him! went to Florence, had we been at- [As he has been speaking, the bell has tacked by twenty thousand brigands, rung, the Page has run to the gardenthis little arm had courage for them door, and MILLIKEN enters through the all! And if I loved thee, Julia, was garden, laden with a hamper, bandbox, I wrong? and if I basked in thy and cricket-bat]. beauty day and night, Julia, am I not a man? and if, before this Peri, this

MILLIKEN. Why was the carriage not sent for me, Howell? There