Theodore Montelieu) possesses. Mr. Mortimer, however, being a hero, declines fighting, and contents himself, for the present, with looking mysterious. It will now be seen that matters are coming to a crisis. Mr. Mortimer is obliged to go to Philadelphia; but, lest Mr. Montelieu should whisk off the heiress in his absence, he insists upon that gentleman bearing him company. Having reached, however, the city of brotherly love, the ingenious young man gives his keeper the slip, hurries back to Vermont, and gets every thing ready for his wedding. Miss Montargis is very angry and talks about the inexplicable ring, fate, fore-knowledge and free will—but old Clermont, the Baron, and Mr. Montelieu, on the other hand, get in an absolute passion and talk about nothing less than the old Baron Rheinswald and his “eternal curse.” The ceremony therefore proceeds, when just at the most proper moment, and all as it should be, in rushes—Mr. Frederick Mortimer!—it will be seen that he has come back from Philadelphia. He assures the company that the Count Laniski, (that is to say Mr. Theodore Montelieu,) is not the Count Laniski at all, but only Mr. Theodore Montelieu; and moreover, that he himself (Mr. Frederick Mortimer) is not only Mr. Frederick Mortimer, but the bonâ fide Count Laniski into the bargain. And more than this, it is very clearly explained how Miss Laura Montargis is not by any means Miss Laura Montargis, but only the Baroness de Thionville, and how the Baroness de Thionville is the wife of the Baron de Thionville, and how, after all, the Baron de Thionville is the Count Laniski, or else Mr. Frederick Mortimer, or else—that is to say—how Mr. Frederick Mortimer is'nt altogether the Count Laniski, but—but only the Baron de Thionville, or else the Baroness de Thionville—in short, how every body concerned in the business is not precisely what he is, and is precisely what he is not. After this horrible development, if we recollect, all the dramatis personæ faint outright, one after the other. The inquisitive reader may be assured, however, that the whole story ends judiciously, and just as it ought to do, and with a very excellent quotation from one of the very best of the “late writers.” Humph! and this is the “Swiss Heiress,” to say nothing of the “Bride of Destiny.” However—it is a valuable “work”—and now, in the name of “fate, fore-knowledge and free will,” we solemnly consign it to the fire. ROSZEL'S ADDRESS. _Address delivered at the Annual Commencement of Dickinson College, July 21, 1836, by S. A. Roszel, A.M. Principal of the Grammar School. Published by Request of the Board of Trustees. Baltimore: John W. Woods._