It vexed the ear of the careworn statesman--sad, perhaps, with all his greatness, lonely amidst all his crowd of friends. It reminded him, perhaps, of his own youth, when such parties and companionships were familiar to him, though through them all he bore an ambitious aspiring soul--"_Le jeu, vaut-il la chandelle?_" said he, shrugging his shoulders. The coach rolled rapidly past Leonard, as he stood leaning against the corner of the bridge, and the mire of the kennel splashed over him from the hoofs of the fiery horses. The laughter smote on his ear more discordantly than on the minister's, but it begot no envy. "Life is a dark riddle," said he, smiting his breast. And he walked slowly on, gained the recess where he had stood several nights before with Helen; and dizzy with want of food, and worn out for want of sleep, he sank down into the dark corner; while the river that rolled under the arch of stone muttered dirge-like in his ear;--as under the social key-stone wails and rolls on for ever the mystery of Human Discontent. Take comfort, O Thinker by the stream! 'Tis the river that founded and gave pomp to the city; and without the discontent, where were progress--what were Man? Take comfort, O THINKER! where ever the stream over which thou bendest, or beside which thou sinkest, weary and desolate, frets the arch that supports thee;--never dream that, by destroying the bridge, thou canst silence the moan of the wave! DISFRANCHISEMENT OF THE BOROUGHS. TO WALTER BINKIE, ESQ., PROVOST OF DREEPDAILY.