trator, and came to their posts when the Secession took place thoroughly equipped for the service required from them. From among those who did so it would be wrong to omit the Hon. Howell Cobb, President of the Confederate Congress, another lawyer of genius and distinction. He is the youngest of the more remarkable men, being only forty-eight. He became Speaker of Congress and Governor of Georgia before he was five and thirty. As leader of the Democratic party he was a notable character in general politics from 1850 to 1855, and enjoyed a large measure of public confidence. Finally, President Buchanan made him his Secretary of the Treasury, and the height of his ambition was attained. He was destined, however, to figure on another arena, and he is now one of the most trusted of the Confederate chiefs. His tendencies are religious, like those of "Stonewall" Jackson, and altogether he is one of the soundest, most scrupulous, and earnest of the Confederates. These are not sketches of men who are, in any sense, adventurers. They had all made their positions in life when the Secession took place, and most of them, in fact, came forth from their privacy, after a manhood of hard work, to obey what they considered an imperative call of country. They could have had no personal ambition to serve that would not have been more easily attained by a conservation of the old Union. It would not have been very difficult to place Mr. Jefferson Davis in the chair of authority as successor to Abraham Lincoln, and Stephens and Memminger, Hunter and Lee, would have shared the fortunes of such a ministry. Polk held a bishopric, and could get nothing more. The minor men, who fill military and civil posts under the Confederacy, had every reason to suppose that the road to promotion lay through an obsequious obedience to whatever party was for the time in power. The influences must have been very powerful, therefore, and of an exalted kind, that induced these persons to put them selves at the head of a new State, and embark everything in the doubtful enterprize. We cannot suppose that it was attachment to the institution of slavery which supplied the motive, for we learn that the foremost of the Confederate leaders possess no slaves, and have no interest whatever in negro property. If the fact were otherwise, we should not only be obliged to assign a very low origin to the apparent patriotism of the South, but should be forced to despair of any modification of slavery from the hands of these men. Inasmuch, however, as selfish considerations of the kind afford no sufficient explanation of the moral phenomena witnessed in the Southern struggle, the candid observer is compelled to acknowledge the high-souled impulses that have led to the valorous and successful prosecution of an unequal conflict, and feels warranted in hoping that the same disinterestedness and largeness of view may bring the Southern leaders and people, at no distant date, to a right mind with respect to slavery. There are two provisions of the Confederate Constitution, as has been shown, which indicate the desire of its framers to get rid of the state of society that is the only stain upon their national escutcheon. The first prohibits for evermore the importation of African negroes from " any foreign country;" and to make the enactment more explicit, it is added, "other than the slaveholding States of the Confederated States.' The Northern or Federal States, accordingly, are a “foreign country" within the meaning of this declaration. The second provision still more expressly affirms that the Southern Congress shall have power to prevent the introduction of slaves "from any State not a member of this Confederacy." Fundamental principles like these give hope that the Confederacy will be governed in peace, as in war, by men having a high moral purpose, who will neither repudiate their debts, nor deny their responsibility with regard to the great and difficult negro-labour question. "" FALSTAFF'S WAKE. BY T. IRWIN. Scene.-Boar's Head Tavern, in Eastcheap. Hostess Quickly, Doll, Bardolph, Pistol, Nym, Boy, and Undertaker. Quickly.-Come Lieutenant Bardolph and Corporal Nym, come Doll -poor heart, and draw round the sea-coal fire; a winter's night and an old friend dead; marry and amen, let us be comfortable. Here, boy, bring the company stools. Alack-aday, and who would have thought Sir John could ever die; I can believe anything after that. Well, I shall never forget him. Nym.-My humour is to forget grief. Bard. Such is not mine. I'd rather have Falstaff's memory than a hogshead of Rhenish. Quick-Alas, the good man! Rhenish, indeed, was a liquor which he never could conjure; it set his gout a-tingling, but sack he loved. Many's the flask he drank of me ;a great capacity, God be wi' him. Why, the empty bottles he has left behind him would reach hence to Charing village, that they would. He used to say he would leave them me in his will, and have my Lord Chief Justice to draw it, too. Well, 'tis certain he drank much, and little I grudged him; for an honester gentleman never drew heavenly air. He owes me now for sack alone Bard.-Well, hostess, he will never drink any more of you. Quick.--He will never drink any more of me, Lieutenant Bardolph, it is true for you to say. Alack, an evil day for me, and a melancholy! His custom was equal to any six, and if he had paid; but, to be sure, he would say that was his way of thrift. Ah, well! Bard.-He will never drink any more ! Quick-Good Master Bardolph don't take on so, sitting moping over the fire. Here, boy, bring in a tankard of sack for the mourners, and a short-necked bottle of Canaries for Doll and I here. Marry, we can't enjoy sorrow if we are not comfortable;-so, so-send it round now in good heart; it's not every day a friend dies.-Lord! what a large head and high forehead he had; what a bold front and cunning lip; what merry wrinkles round the eyes -death can't stop their laughing. Well; a finer and a fatter corpse I never see. Doll.-Peace, good hostess, you give me quite a turn. Quick-Poor heart! drink about. Quick-Alack, what a man he was-such company, with a venison pasty before him-so mirthful over the pippins and cheese. Doll. With such droll stories and songs. Quick-Songs! I have heard him out-chirp our tapster, Oliver, over and over again, standing at the bar, with my back to the bottles, in idle times, waiting for customers at night. Doll. So generous when he had money. He has given me kirtles three several times-not that I hold myself handsome-and with that and his winning ways and so. Well, I never met a man with such a taking way; he had such intellects. Quick.-Yea, truly, good nature warms. Doll.-Ay, and that ring he gave me-he said it cost twenty marks, but, I'm blessed, if I can ever get more than three on it from Zachariah Iscariot, the pawn-master, in Judas's Close-often only two, according to the times; but with all that I still love him; and when a true woman loves a man-oh, Lord! Quick. Oh, don't tell me, Mistress Doll, I have had my sorrows and experiences, and my downrisings and upfallings in this celestial world, God be about us, as well as any; and have seen the day when I was young. Doll. Not saying that you are old now-God forbid. Quick.-All's one. But, neighbours, isn't it a sad case, that a nobleman like Sir John-a man with such a conchology as he, should die in a tavern, without a soul, except his own friends, about him. Why, it's heartrending; antiquity will scarce credit it. Doll-You were with him when he parted, were you not? Quick.-Yea, good sooth. Boy.—And I, too. Nym.-It's not my humour to watch the dying, but I shogged up and had a look-didn't I, boy? Boy.-Ay, and Falstaff, it was just before his voice went, said you looked like a ghost that had left its grave to have it swept. Quick. And so he did-merry to the last, good sooth. Pistol.-What hath the knight bequeathed his comrades true? Doth his great pockets smack of Plutus aught?— Let us unfold his garments, and confirm. Nym.-Aye, let us have a fair divide; my humour is to have a token. Quick. A fair thought truly. Boy, ascend you to the chamber where the good man lies, and bring his garments hither. Boy. Oh, mistress, don't ask me to go up to Sir John at this hour of the night. Bard.-What? you puny elfskinyou bubble-what! are you afraid of your old master? Boy.-Afraid or not, I'd rather go six miles round than-a-can't you go yourself, Master Bardolph ? Quick-Poor lad, he's but young; that's the truth; but his heart's gentle. Go now-there's a dear. Boy.-Ah, can't you go, mistress, that knew him so well; he won't harm you. Quick.-What! at the small hours? -no, God forbid. Well, Lord, Lord, but to think of it! that he who was so merry should make us all afeard now. Bard.-Give the qnat a drain. Here you, phial (pours some Canaries down his throat). Well, how feel you now? Boy.-Oh, I'm smothered! What craven coward base art thou? What! fear the dead? Go on thine errand, pack; And if thou here returnest not before three minutes space, I'll lace thy puny hide with sounding stripes,. Thou pestilent varlet vile. Boy.-Well, you're all as much afraid as I, at any rate. (Exit Boy.) Pistol. A small whey cur. When Through deserts full of dragons had And horrid caverns dashed with dead men's bones. The present youth are sluttish. (Re-enter Boy.) Boy.—Oh, as I breathe, I'm sure I heard him stir. I'm certain he's only feigning; none can tell what tricks he may be at. Quick-Alack, poor child, his feigning is over; he could not deceive me there; haven't I seen folks die before now, and had my troubles and afflictions, and sittings and watchings with my first husband, Quickly, a good soul, who died of an information on the chest only; but strong and in health withal, thanks be to God, who is sleeping above his father in Bow church-yard, being both mortal; and a widow I am, that have been better to do subsequently than now— but that's past and gone. Ah, no— feigning!--by no means; for when I gave him his two 'parents, which the leech from Rhubarb-lane ordered him, and a thimbleful of sack to wash them down, he put the cup away with his only living hand.-Was that feigning? No; don't tell me what death is no. Bard. The hostess is right; his limbs were parabolic toward the close. Quick. His hands, on the faith of a true woman-yes, last night, the left previously the other. When I felt them this morning there was not the least altercation between them. Nym.-Come, bring his garments hither. Bard.-Ay, there's his outward casing-his inner was-well! Doll.-I'll take the spangles off his doublet, and sew them on my kirtle. Won't they look rare at Bartholomew fair. Pistol. His sword is mine. I'll hew my way through France And armies multitudinous with this blade It fits my hand. Death follow close my heels. Bard.-Give me his corkscrew; he kept it in his right pocket ever-aye, here it is. A better weapon never opened bottle. Nym.-Look you, here's a paper. What may it be? Bard.-May I never taste Canaries, but it's his jest-book, and here's something charactered therein. Quick.-Oh, read, read, good Bardolph. Bard.-Fetch me the light; I can scarce disciple the words indeed, they are so stained with sack as to be perfectly intelligible. By the Mass, it's his will. Pistol.-Progress. First from the tankard oil thy tongue. Bard. (reads).-"I, Sir John Falstaff, being in good wind and appetite this June forenoon, do make, while waiting for dinner, this my first will and testament, in manner following, that is to say:-Upon the Prince, I bestow my wit, well knowing it is the quality he lacketh most of; to the honest wenches now roasting me a capon, I leave my love-better to them than a million; to my Lord Chief Justice I bequeath my command of countenance, wherewith that foolish old man may the better make his stupidity pass for gravity; while upon my followers, Nym, Bardolph, and Pistol, I bestow the world in general, and whatsoever they can take therein. “J. FALSTAFF, Knight." Quick.-And not a word about the empty bottles? Bard.-No, Mistress Quickly. Quick.-Ah, well! But, hark! what knocking's there? Run, boy. Hand me the Canaries first. This is the undertaker, I warrant. We mustn't let our spirits sink when business is to be done. (Enter Undertaker). Und.-A fair night, gentle folks. Well, and so the bully Captain is no please you-and so are ours-death in the house-death in the house, good Master Hammertack. Come, a drink; you do seem but low, that's the truth. Und. I am so! and no marvel either, my masters. I've just passed the new church-yard, over against Cheap End; three months is it finished, as I'm a living man, and not a grave in it yet-a disheartening sight for an honest tradesman with a large family. Quick-Truly, a fine season is but a bad time for your trade, but--trust in God. Und.-Three months finished, and not a grave in it yet-why, what is the world coming to? Quick-Aye, what indeed (refilling his cup). But come, don't give inanother taste of Canaries-it won't harm you-a quiet drink. Und. (drinking).-You look marvellous well, Mistress Quickly; i' faith, a sweeter sparkle in the eye and a fresher colour I never see. Quick-Ah! grief, grief, Master Hammertack will give the cheek a carnation in good sooth, la. Und.-And how, if it please you, did the good knight die? Bard.-Why, truly master, he was a free-blooded gentleman. Lived well at all times-a great frame, sir, till these latter years, when he was not able to bear as many cups as in his manhood. Nothing but this caused his death; if wine gives a fever, wine alone can cure it-that's my creed. Quick.-And a proper saying, too. What can better of a morning, when qualmish, than a tankard of ale spiced? Und. Certainly. A free-lived gentleman, Lieutenant-I respect him so. Many of my best customers were of his make. I have now on my books not that it becomes an humble tradesman to boast-Sir Toby Carabuncle, of Willow Grange; went off quietly on Thursday morning, as I'm told, after a dinner with their worships, the Masters Aldermen at Bow; and I have got my order for a lead and outside oak two inches thick, with silver garnishings and motto. It will be, though I say it, the greatest thing I have yet done. Truly, these last nights I have lain awake, inventing and inventing; it was but yester eve I hit upon the fitting idea, and to speak honestly, my mind is a good deal shaken; but then for a good man, and in the way of trade, I never spare myself. Quick.-Yea-with respect-what's a night or so's waking for a good man, like Sir Toby? I've heard from the carrier folk he had the largest cellars in his parts. Und.-And so he had. But, sweet friends, to whom am I to look for reimbursement in this present matter? Pistol.-Pocket thy fears, and get thy purse in hand, Gorgonian ghoulThe King, the noble wight-he pays for all. Und.-Heaven send his majesty a happy ending; and so, with your leave, I will ascend me to the chamber of the body, and take its compass. Quick.-A light, a light here. (Exit Undertaker). Dear, dear! he is no inore afeard than I would be of tapping a hogshead of Malmsay-ay, the use is all. Doll. (yawning).—Ah-a- a-a, I feel very melancholic. Quick-So much the better, for to drink when we are merry is but a waste of wine. Come, your cup again. Doll.-Not another drop for me. Quick-Go to, you must-what's a half-pint between two weak women? Doll-Well, for company's sake, I won't off. (Re-enter Undertaker.) Und.-The knight's interment should be rapid, my masters. Man is but mortal, and now I bethink me I have a shell which is his size to a hair; a costly matter, trust me, and of most admirable workmanshipordered, indeed, expeditiously by the heir of a great man, who, alas! recovered out of time. For half a year 't has been on my hands-but all are born to disappointment. Bard.-Well, a better and a wittier clay will never fill it than my old master's. Und.-Fact, Lieutenant-fact. But regarding the Knight's remains, I would council a speedy earthing; man is but mortal; and the less delay, the less decay. What say you, good Lieu tenant? Bard.-Predestination is the thief of time. Quick.-Aye, true, true. Und.-Then, my familiars will visit you at six, with all things comfortable and in readiness. (Exit Undertaker). Quick. A fair-spoken man, truly, and a wise; but come, bar up the door, boy, for i' faith we must sit up through the night. Come, draw close to the fire-another cup, and then to sleep. Bard. (coming in from the door).It snows. Quick.-Marry then, throw more logs on the hearth. Doll.-Hush! what's that? say Doll.-May I never wear taffita again, but I heard something stir o'erhead! Quick-In heaven's name, Mistress Doll, what mean you putting one in such tirrits and frights? Doll (listening).--It was nothing. Quick.-Well said, there's a good heart-no, of course. Nym. The drink has made me fap; it's my humour to have a doze. Bard.-And mine, comrade. Pistol. What saith the night? Hath Chronos lost his tongue? Methinks three hours have fled since clock hath chimed. Quick. The last was four. Quick. Not while I listened, be it as it may. (They sleep). Clock strikes five. Doll. (awaking).-Oh-ho-0-0 ! There goes five o'clock. Good lack, I wish the corpse was well out of the house; that bell is always rousing one. What business has a church so near a tavern? I'faith, it's anything but pleasant-in faith, it's awful to be the only one awake; but I am aweary, and will to sleep again. Oh-ho-o-o! |