Accordingly, I purpose to introduce to the
English market a French comedy which has
come into my possession. It is entitled, The
Scholar of Oxford, a comedy in three acts, and
in prose, by Feu Wafflard, represented for the
first time in the Second Théâtre- Français,
July 29, 1824; price 2 francs, 50 centimes.
Paris, Madame Virginie Dabo, Publisher. I
ought, perhaps, to say that the copy lying
before me, stained and dingy, but yet in tolerable
preservation, I found with a heap of other
works in a by-street, offered at a penny a
volume. It is neither the better nor the worse
for that.

The time of this comedy is the reign of
Queen Elizabeth. The characters are LORD
MORDEN, an ambitious courtier with a noble
mansion in Lombard-street, in a magnificent
park; LADY MORDEN, his sister; Miss MARIA,
who is said in the list of personages to be their
mother, but who is, in fact, as nearly as I can
judge from the drama, their niece (Miss Maria,
leur mère, has an awkward look); LORD STRATFORD,
friend of the Morden family; ROBERT,
Professor of Humanities in the College of Mr.
Jackson; WILL, Student of the University of
Oxford; and several characters of lesser
importance.

The first scene opens in a forest, which turns
out to be in Hyde Park. There is a tavern,
kept by GOOT, on whose sign is seen "Excellent
porter —loge à pied et à cheval." Enter WILL,
with a small bundle and some books under his
arm. He is eighteen. He has just left the
University of Oxford, because he has completed
his studies, and also because his unknown protectors
have forgotten to pay his last quarter's
expenses. He has a vague idea that his father,
whose name he does not happen to know, has
died in exile.

"Here I am," exclaims Will, "at eighteen,
free, my own master, and running the world,
without knowing where I go. How the air is
good! How I respire at my ease! Ah! this
day is the most beautiful of my life. (He throws
his books into the air.) Good-by Quiutus Curtius!
good-by Virgil! good-by Horace! your
immortality has cost me many a flogging. WILL,
if you believe me, you are fatigued; you want
some refreshment. Ah, here is a tavern, where
I can change my last guinea. Hollo! Mr. Host,
Mrs. Hostess, Mr. Goot!"

Enter Mr. Goot, with a pot of beer in his
hand. " Well, young gentleman," he says,
"you make a good deal ol noise, for one."

"A pot of your best beer, Mr. Goot, and I
will not beat you down on it."

"Here it is," says the publican; " taste that;
by the time you have drunk two glasses you
will feel a vigour, a fire in the head, you will
be furious, and ready to box with all the world.
As for my porter, I reserve that for great
occasions, such as a prize-fight, or my wife's
birthday."

Exit publican, and enter ROBERT, the tutor
in the college of Mr. Jackson, who is taking a
promenade with his pupils, to whom he says:

"Gentlemen! don't walk so fast; we are
about to re-enter the town; walk two and two,
and behave yourselves properly." These young
gentlemen of the college of Mr. Jackson give
their tutor a good deal of trouble; for, when he
tells them to lower their eyes because ladies
are coming, they raise them all the more, of
course to plague their tutor.

Will and Robert recognise each other, having
been acquainted at the University of Oxford.
Will informs his friend that he is seeking his
fortune—that he is ignorant of his family, but
believes himself to be the son of a great lord,
and that he remembers living with a farmer in
the county of Kent. While conversing, they
hear a great noise in the forest of Hyde Park,
where a party is hunting. Robert calls to his
pupils to keep away from the hunt, and not get
run over by the horses. Will tells his friend
that he is in love " like a fool, " with a young lady
whom he does not know, to whom he has never
spoken, but whom he saw at the Newmarket
races.

Two ladies, who accompany the hunt, are in
peril. Their horses, frightened, rush towards a
ravine, and Will, at the head of the schoolboys,
rushes to their rescue. Robert, more prudent,
stays behind. Will seizes the reins—the ladies
alight, and Robert, the danger over, receives
them politely, and they take him for their
deliverer.

Lady Morden and Miss Maria, exhausted with
fright, gladly seize the arms of Robert. Let us
proceed with the scene.

LADY MORDEN. A cloud obscures my eyes;
I tremble at the danger we have escaped; my
knees bend under me.

MARIA. Dear aunt, respire this salt.

ROBERT. Ladies, support yourselves on me,
the danger is past; compose yourselves—fear
nothing.

MARIA (aside). That young man who threw
himself under the horses' feet— it was he. [That
is, it was Master Will, whom she had seen at
the Newmarket races.]

LADY MORDEN. Ah, sir! what gratitude I
owe you.

ROBERT (confused). Madam, I merit nothing.

LADY MORDEN. Do not hope to escape our
eulogies. We had been hunting since morning
with Lord Morden in this forest [Hyde Park].
The storm separated us. The horses ran—you
have saved us.

Lord Morden enters upon the scene, and declares
that Heaven, in saving the lives of the
ladies, wished to prolong his. The rain had
swollen a brook [the Serpentine?] so that he
could not pass it. He had seen the horses
plunge madly down the ravine, " but by what
miracle," he asks, " had they escaped a certain
death?"

A courageous man, he was informed, had been
intrepid enough to save them. It was to Robert,
Lady Morden assured him, they owed their life.
Miss Maria knew it was the Newmarket young
gentleman; but chose to keep her own counsel.
Lord Morden throws himself into the arms of