WEDGEWOOD (forgetting himself, lifting his mallet and flourishing it like an auctioneer.) Going! (Recollecting himself.)--I mean--(slowly and with gravity)--s-i-l-e-n-c-e i-n t-h-e c-o-u-r-t! (meaning the audience.) KING. These witnesses will, I am sure, attend the next trial of The Maid of Saxony-- WEDGEWOOD. If it is convenient. FINALE. Our hearts are bounding with delight! 'Tis Freedom's jubilee! For right has triumphed over might-- The bond again are free! Hurrah!--hurrah! Let the welkin ring To Justice and Liberty Paeans we sing! (Tableau--Curtain falls.) End of the Maid of Saxony. Notes. The Deserted Bride (page 51.) This poem was written after seeing Miss Fanny Kemble, for the first time, in one scene of "The Hunchback." The Croton Ode (page 57.) Written at the request of the Corporation of the city of New York, and sung near the Park Fountain by the members of the New York Sacred Music Society, on the completion of the Croton Aqueduct, October, 14, 1842. Woodman, Spare That Tree! (page 64.) Riding out of town a few days since, in company with a friend, who was once the expectant heir of the largest estate in America, but over whose worldly prospects a blight has recently come, he invited me to turn down a little romantic woodland pass not far from Bloomingdale. "Your object?" inquired I. "Merely to look once more at an old tree planted by my grandfather, near a cottage that was once my father's."--"The place is yours, then?" said I. "No, my poor mother sold it;" and I observed a slight quiver of the lip, at the recollection of that circumstance. "Dear mother!" resumed my companion, "we passed many happy, HAPPY days, in that old cottage; but it is nothing to me now--father, mother, sisters, cottage--all are gone!"--and a paleness over-spread his fine countenance, and a moisture came to his eyes, as he spoke. After a moment's pause, he added: "Don't think me foolish. I don't know how it is, I never ride out but I turn down this lane to look at that old tree. I have a thousand recollections about it, and I always greet it as a familiar and well-remembered friend. In the by-gone summer-time it was a friend indeed. Under its branches I often listened to the good counsel of my parents, and had SUCH gambols with my sisters! Its leaves are all off now, so you won't see it to advantage, for it is a glorious old fellow in summer; but I like it full as well in winter-time." These words were scarcely uttered, when my companion cried out, "There it is?" Near the tree stood an old man, with his coat off, sharpening an ax. He was the occupant of the cottage. "What do you intend doing?" asked my friend with great anxiety. "What is that to you?" was the blunt reply. "You are not going to cut that tree down, surely?"--"Yes, but I am though," said the woodman. "What for?" inquired my companion, almost choked with emotion. "What for? Why, because I think proper to do so.