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Lake Wakatip Mail, Volume II, Issue 55, 7 November 1863, Page 6

Gold in Scotland.—lt is said that among the Hartfeli Hills, near Moffatt, and about liobb's Linn and Meggart Water, Scotland, several small finds of gold hate been made recently ; one nugget, weighing about six grains, has been publicly exhibited-

VERY SENSATIONAL. (From the London Comic News.) Le Secret de Miss Aurore Eyre. Drame, en 76 Tableaux. Truduit de I'Anglais de Mistress Currer Braddon.—Paris: Michael Law-

rence Levy. 1863. This charming drama, founded on Currer Braddon's popular novel of Jane Vanestone, ot* the Dead Legacy , has created a most extraurplinory sensation in Paris. At the Theatre St. Jacques de la Boucherie, on the Pont Montmartre, it is played three times a day to admiring audiences, and at each performance at least 10,000 people are seut away from the doors. Of course it would be impossible to give our readers anything like a notion of the intricacy of the plot 1 of this famous work; we shall, however, feel great pleasure in extracting a few scenes from it for their amusement and admiration:—

Tableau 14, Scene 35.— An underground garret in the roof of Audley Towers, giving on the River Lambeth. The Mersey Mountains in the distance. Thunder and lightning. Enter R, Eleanor Marchmont carrying on her little finger a ponderous iron chest, coutaining Verner's Secret.

Eleanor: And now put out the light. (Extinguishes her lantern with a steam fire-engine). Ha, ha! Talbot Audley shall never inherit Verner's Secret. (Throws the iron chest down the well.) Duke of Arqyle (on the Mersey Mountains beyond) : What's your little game ? Eleanor (climbing up a tree): Who art thou, villain ? D. of A. (dissembling): My name is NorvaL On the wood-crowned height— (Swims the Lambeth Marsh, and enters the window by means of a geranium). Eleanor (with firmness) : lam a chieftain's daughter, and if you possess the feelings of a man, Brown, you will this instant carry me out into the moonbeams. (They dance a spalpeen to the merry strains of a band of cromlechs, and exeunt.) Enter Effie na Coppaleen (who sings a header in the language of bathers), Box and Martin COPPERFIELD. Box (to Effie) : Where is that contemptible hatter ? Effie (playing with a straw): Sixes. Martin: Be-launsh! Be-launsh! lam here! [They nil pass up the stage, confer for a moment, and then execute a grand-pas, and exeunt.] The concluding scene is perhaps hardly to be equalled for effectiveness by anything of the kind ever seen before:— Tableau 76, Scene 209.-4 lonely inn in Cheamide, on the borders of the Forest of Alder* manoury. Mr Paul Homer discovered seated at a table. Mr. P. R: The evening is—eh—slightly tempestuous—eh—and the season—eh—torrid. I will take some refreshment. Mrs. Bouncer! Mrs B. (within) : Anon, anon, sir. Mr. P. K,: Let ms have 2 d's worth of Mappin's Pale Ale—eh—frigid. Enter Lady Macbeth, and the White Ghost of the Peppers.. LadyM.: 'No, Macbeth,' says I, 'I don't old with it. If I did come in with a horder, them 'orrid boys has no call to tell me so. >■ (Lifts a trap in the flies, and shows Mr. P. Homer Mr, CoxwelVs underground railway.) Mrs. Bouncer, (horrified at the sight)'. My lords, ladies, and gentlemen. Pray silence for the cheer. Mr. Arthur Woodin (by the kind permission of Mr. Benjamin Boucicault): Mee hear*r-r-t is dad,! Alee hear-r-r-r-t is dad! Chorus of Spirits : I believe ye, my boy. [The whole of the characters then perform an ophecleide on Mr. Babbage's calculating machine, after which they all die in horrible agony from the effects of their exertions, and the curtain descends on their happiness. Position of characters at the fall of the curtain. Horizontal.]