exert himself in my behalf-still more vainly than hopest, even if be wished it that I would ever consent to it!

Is.And can it be true than that I pass my unhappy days amid such persons.

Char.---True, ah too true indeed, delay not now ány longer--leave me, save me from the most deadly anguish, the pity that is in thee offends me, if thou dost not feel it for thyself go if thou boldest thy life dear.

Isa.---Is life dear to me?

Char.---My honor then, and thy fame!

Isa.---Should I abandon thee in such peril!

Char---To expose thyself to such peril? and of what use is it; thou bestrayest thyself and dost not save me,---one single suspicion stains virtue, also deprives the tyrant of the wished joy of being able to accuse thee of even a guilty thought--go conceal thy grief repress thy sighs within thy bosom, with a dry brow and unmoved countenance it behoves thee to hear my death. Be those sad days which thou sbalt survive me consecrated to virtue, and if thou shouldst seck a solace for thy grief among so inas ny guilty there remains one most excellent-Peres whom thou knowest well and he can secretly mourn with thee, and thou be able to speak sometimes with him of me; but meantime, gb, des part, make me not to grieve, alas do not tear my heart to pieces. Take a last adieu and leave me-go, I have need of all my firmness, now that the fatal hour of death draws near.

SCENE rit.

Philip, Isbella and Charles.

Phil.The hour of death has arrived! it has arrived, I bring it to thee.

Isa.O sight, O Treachery.

Char.---And I am prepared for death, give it to me.

Phil.---Thou shalt die felon, but first thou shalt hear my terrible accents, you wicked couple! infamous, I know the whole, yes the whole, that horrid flame which consumes you with love, and me with fury, has been long known to me; oh what suppressed emotions of age, what a lengthened silence. But at last you have both fallen into my hands, wherefore should I grieve; ought I to employ complaints, what I wish is vengeance, and 1 shall have it 200n; I shall have it full and unprecedented. But it pleases me meanwhile to enjoy your shame, Thou wicked Lady do not suppose now that I ever loved thee, or that to a jealous rage my breast has ever been a martyr; Philip does not repose his deep affection in a base habitation such as thy heart, nor can the lady who deserves it betray it. Thon hast committed an offence against me thy priace-not thy lover. Thou hast contaminated

the sacred name of my consort; I never cared for thy love, but so engrossing a dread of thy sovereign should have dwelt in thee that even the mere thought of any other affectiou should not have dared to present itself.

Thou seducer, thou vile one;-To thee I do not speak. To thee nothing is strange; the crime was worthy of thee alone; manifest proofs, (too much so) although I dissembled I had in your guilty sighs, your silence, your emotions and the grief which I saw and still see, enclosed in your guilty breast. But why do I any longer speak; your crime has been equal, your punishment shall be so likewise.

Char.-What do I hear; there is no crime in her; what do I Bay? crime; there is not even the shadow of a crime in her; Her heart is pure. I solemnly swear that it never felt so wicked a flame; she scarcely knew of my love till she condemned it.

Phil. The length to which you have Loth proceeded I welf know; I know that thou hast not yet raised ah audacions improus thought towards thy father's bed. Hadst thou done so shouldst thou be how living? but the accents of horrid passion have procecdet from thy impure mouth, and she listened to them; that is enough.

Char.- alone have offended thee, nor do I deny it,-a slight ray of hope shone upon my brow-but her virtue instantly dispersed it. She listened to me, but only to my confusion, and only to extract from my breast the wicked unnatural passion; unnatural, yes, it is now too much so, but it was at one time legitimate: she was my spouse, thou knowest it, thou gavest her to me, and thou coulds't better give her than take her away.

I am indeed iu every way guilty, yes, I love her, and she was taken from me by thee. What further cans't thou now deprive me of? Satiate thyself in my blood;-Expiate in me the rage of thy jealous pride; but spare her, she is perfectly innocent.

Phil. She is thine inferior in daring, but not in guilt, though it should please thee, madam, to be silent, even thy silence convicts thee in my bosom (nor does it avail thee to deny it) thou art consumed by a horrible flame, too much thou betrayedst it to me when spake to thee purposely concerning him a little time ago. Why didst thou keep reminding me that he was my son? Pers fidious, thou daredst not to say that he was thy lover; Hast thou really betrayed in intention thy duty, honor and the lawless man he has ?

18a.-Silence in me proceeds not from fear. A vast stupor seized me at thy incredibly deceitful, savage, ferocious disposition. 1 re call at length, 1 recall my astonished spirits,

It is at length my duty to repair the great fault of being thy wife, heretofore I have not offended thee. In the presence of Hea ven, in the presence of the Prince 1 am not guilty. In my bo som certainly.

Char-A false pity for me moves her words. Al do not listen

to her!

Isa. In vain dost thou try to save me, all thy words are to the point of rather exasperating in him the festering wound. It is no longer the time for excuses. It is now to fly from his presence which no torment equals since it may have been given to a tyrant to feel sometime the force of love. I will tell thee dying, that it was thou who fastened the bonds of love between us. I will tell thee that I had every thought turned upon him from my early years, that I had placed every hope upon him. It was both a virtue and thy command to love him then. And who made it afterwards u crime? Thon, by dissolving the sacred bond mal'st it so; It was easy to absolute will to untie it, but can the heart be thus changed.? within my breast he remained tixed, but I was not thy wife till such a flame within me was dormant. To my after years, to my vinthe and perhaps to thee, I looked for its extirpation.

Phil. I then will certainly do that effectually which neither thy virtne nor thy years have done. Yes; in thy faithless blood ĺ shall quench the impure flame.

-

Isa. Always to spill blood, and still spill more blood, is thy only worth but can that be the price for which can ever bes-. tow upon thee my affection withdrawn from him-thou-as unlike thy son as vice is to virtue, thou art accustomed to see me tremble, but 1. tremble no longer. I was silent heretofore, with regard to the wicked passion which thou believed'st in me, now let it be manifest, now that I discover thee to be more wicked mate it.

Phi.---He is worthy of thee and thou worthy of him...It remains to see whether you will be as brave in dying as in speaking.

SCENE IV.

Gomes, Philip, Isabella, and Charles.

Phil.---Hast thou fulfilled my commands---dost thou bring what I told thee?

Gom.---Peres has been stabbed to death; behold the dagger still reeking with his warm blood.

Char.Oh sight!

Phi.---In him however the traitor race is not yet extinct. But do thou Charles meantime behold what recompence I reserve for my friends.

Char.---How many, ah me! how many deaths am I to see before dying, thon too Peres; oh rage; I follow thee already. Where is, where is that sword which awaits me, come let it be brought to me; oh! might my blood alone quench the burning thirst of this Tiger!

Isa. Oh that I alone had the power to satiate his unstural fury.

Phi.---Cease your infamous emulation. Lo for your choice this sword or this bowl. Oh thou despiser of death chose thou first.

Char.---O sword, still warm with innocent blood, I choose thee as my liberator. Oh, thou unhappy lady---thou hast said too much--to thee there remains nothing else but death. But the poi 'son alas choose; it may be less painful; this is the last advice of an unhappy passion---collect all thy courage within thee--behold me! I die (he stabs himself.) Follow my example, I take the fatal bowl---delay not!

Isa.---Ah yes, I follow thee; oh death thon att joy to me. In thee

Phil.---Thon shalt live then---in spite of thee thou shalt live. Isa.---Saffer me-O cruel punishment, he is dead—and f Phil.---Separated from him, yes thou shalt live, days of lamentation thou shalt live! thy prolonged grief shall be a consolation to me, and when freed from thy infamous passion thou shalt desire to livethen 1 will give thee death.

Isa.---To live by thy side; to endure the light of thee; It can never be, no; I will die; my sword will supply the place of the bowl thou hast snatched from me.

With great rapidity laying hold of Phil's. dagger she slabs herself.

Phil.-Hold! hold!

Isa.-I die.

Phil.-O Heaven! what do 1 behold!

Isa.-Thon beholdest thy wife and thy son die both innocent and both by thy hand. I follow thee beloved Charles.

Phil. A culprit dripping with blood and such blood! 1 obtain a complete and dreadful vengeance, but an 1 happy? Gomes let this atrocious affair be hidden from every mortal. If thou art silent upon it thou wilt save my fame and thine owu life.

FINIS.

REMARKS ON THE CULTIVATION OF THE SUGAR CANE

IN THE ISLAND OF CEYLON, BY JOSIAS LAMREKT ESQ. F. G. s.—Continued,

00

Marshy lands, those which cannot be drained with facility, and all which are subjected to long continued floods, are totally unfit for planting-Manygrounds however, that cannot be irrigated, if of good soil, and in a climate subject to periodical rains, are quite capable of producing good crops-I › have seen canes flourishing upon the Hantenne ridge, certainly 2,000 feet above the sea level, and very little doubt exists in my mind that they might be grown with the assistance of manure in many parts of the Cinna-mon Gardens on the coast; I would not answer for the white sandy soil, but there are tracts in these Gardens of a loamy description, and to them I pow allude,

The nature of cattle-food cannot be too highly estimated, if the stock be not properly attended to, the Planter exposes himself to the risk of losing the power of taking off his crops when it is most imperious to do so; the Joss of a week's work from illness, weakness or defect in condition, entails: consequences very fatal to the interests of the estate; the sugar boilers mill feeders, cape cutters and the host of men employed about a mill, and who, from the nature of their habitual work, can scarcely be advantageously employed about any other, are thus thrown idle, and these men, instructed with great trouble and expense must be kept on at unproductive wages. Add to this comparatively minor expense, the loss which accrues from the canes getting out of season, the alteration of the juice and consequent inferior production of sugar, but still more the enfeeblement of the stole from which the canes would have been cut at a period when germination had commenced, throwing out all its vigor through the cut surfaces of the cane-composed. of one mass of arteries, a rapid exhaustion of its powers and consequent premature decay of the plants which ought to last for years.-These evils may occur from accidental circumstances, but never to the extent which may be entailed by the failure of stock, without which no cane can be brought to the mill. I am the more urgent upon this particular in cousequence of the present epidemical, or rather endemical disease which afflicts the colony, but even were not this unfortunately the case, it becomes no less the duty of the Planter to take especial care of the cattle; limiting them to what food may be found in the jungle and pasture lands during slack time, is exceedingly injudicious, for if the stock be kept low whilst idle, no stamina will be found in them to enable the endurance of the fatigue required in a working bullock. Guinea-grass as it grows here, is notoriously useless during the dry season upon the uplands, it runs up immediately on the first rains, its juices are then purgative and without nutriment, recourse must be had to solid or dry, food, and therefore I am anxious to impress upon the minds of Planters.