hyperbolical allusions. A few scattered exceptions occur now and then, where the hectic flush of passion forces them from the lips, and they are not the worse for being rare. Thus, in the play called A WOMAN KILLED WITH KINDNESS, Wendoll, when reproached by Mrs. Frankford with his obligations to her husband, interrupts her hastily, by saying ——‘Oh speak no more! For more than this I know, and have recorded Within the _red-leaved table_ of my heart.’ And further on, Frankford, when doubting his wife’s fidelity, says, with less feeling indeed, but with much elegance of fancy, ‘Cold drops of sweat sit dangling on my hairs, Like morning dew upon the golden flow’rs.’ So also, when returning to his house at midnight to make the fatal discovery, he exclaims, ——‘Astonishment, Fear, and amazement beat upon my heart, Even as a madman beats upon a drum.’ It is the reality of things present to their imaginations, that makes these writers so fine, so bold, and yet so true in what they describe. Nature lies open to them like a book, and was not to them ‘invisible, or dimly seen’ through a veil of words and filmy abstractions. Such poetical ornaments are however to be met with at considerable intervals in this play, and do not disturb the calm serenity and domestic simplicity of the author’s style. The conclusion of Wendoll’s declaration of love to Mrs. Frankford may serve as an illustration of its general merits, both as to thought and diction. ‘Fair, and of all beloved, I was not fearful Bluntly to give my life into your hand, And at one hazard, all my earthly means. Go, tell your husband: he will turn me off, And I am then undone. I care not, I; ’Twas for your sake. Perchance in rage he’ll kill me; I care not; ’twas for you. Say I incur The general name of villain thro’ the world, Of traitor to my friend: I care not, I; Poverty, shame, death, scandal, and reproach, For you I’ll hazard all: why what care I? For you I love, and for your love I’ll die.’