The Post Office forms one of the chief branches of the revenue, and the total received for the conveyance of letters during the last quarter amounted to 33,000_l_. The present arrangements of the Post Office, at least as far as they are known, the certainty of the transmission of letters, the economy with which it is conducted, are the theme of admiration by the nation at large, and more particularly by foreigners. E.J.H. * * * * * ETHELBERT AND ELFRIDA. AN HISTORICAL TALE. Night wanes apace!--The crowd are gone; The lamps have ceased to glow; And Cynthia's beams reflect upon The placid lake below. The song of mirth is heard no more; No guests the goblet fill; The banquet's revelry is o'er, All--all is hush'd and still. No more, amid the stately pile, The dance afford's delight; Nor tale, nor jocund sports beguile The silent hours of night. All seek the downy couch of sleep-- The host, and worthy guest; The drowsy guards on duty keep, And envy them their rest. No minstrels strike th' enliv'ning string-- None blow the twanging horn; The nightingale has ceas'd to sing, And slowly breaks the morn. The portals of the dappled East Assume their bright array; The Sun, in new-born splendour drest, Drives sable clouds away. Thick vapours from the earth arise, And pass away unseen, Till night again shall veil the skies, Now lucid and serene. Above proud Offa's gate the gold Embroider'd banners hung-- And 'scutcheon'd shields emblazon'd told From whence his race had sprung! The glitt'ring lance and crested plume Adorn the sculptur'd wall, And deep'ning shadows cast a gloom Around his spacious hall! On "South Town's" "heav'n directed" fanes Sol sheds his glowing ray; And Peace, and Joy, through Mercia's plains Their gladsome sceptre sway. How diff'rent far the scene will be When night appears again;-- O'er all _now_ reigns festivity, But lamentation _then_! A richly silver-braided vest The virgin train prepare-- A scarf, to wrap the snow-white breast, And gems to deck the hair. Elfrida, at her lattice high, Sits with the bridal throng-- She looks and looks--then heaves a sigh-- "Why tarries he so long?" He comes!--'tis he!--and by his side Attend a noble band-- He comes to claim his royal bride-- His lov'd Elfrida's hand. The wish'd-for hour is gone and past;-- Slow chimes the marriage-bell; May Heav'n forbid it prove his last-- The bridegroom's fun'ral knell! The priest before the altar stands-- The bride bends on her knee, And lifts to God her heart and hands In pious fervency! But where is _he_, who should have knelt Before his Maker, low? And where are _they_, who might have felt What none but parents know!