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sion or curiosity induced him to send the dog to his house, where he reduced the fracture, and confined the animal, till the cure was completed. The dog was then dismissed, not until after many demonstrations had been shewn of gratitude and joy. About a twelvemonth afterward the same dog came to his study, apparently in great agitation, and extremely solicitous to attract his attention to something which was going on abroad. The importunities of the animal did not cease until he had compelled the surgeon to descend into the yard, where, to his surprise, he discovered slowly entering the gate, another dog with his back broken.

BALDNESS

AMONG the Romans was always a subject of raillery, and of all the honours decreed to Caesar, none pleased him more than the permission to wear continually a laurel crown, because it concealed this odious defect. Martial has an epigram upon the subject, which was probably addressed to some Latin petit-maitre, who, to hide his baldness, always wore a cap, under pretence of some malady in his ears;

Non aures tibi, sed dolent capilli.

STUDY OF THE LAW.

PERHAPS perseverance is more necessary for the student at law, and is a quality the absence of which can be less easily supplied than any other. At any rate, nothing is more fatal to legal success than pursuing the study in hot and cold fits-by starts, and after frequent intermissions. The inconveniences which arise from these occasional relaxations, are intimately felt, but cannot easily be described. He who would strive for eminence in this profession, is for a long time placed in the condition of the boatman described in the Georgicks, and if he remits from his labour is carried rapidly back, and loses the progress he had made:

Si brachia forte remisit,
Atque illum in praeceps prono rapit alvens amni.

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ORIGINAL POETRY.

HOR. EPIS. 10. LIB. I.

WE, Fuscus, lovers of the smiling fields,

Thee hail, to whom the town more pleasure yields.
In this we differ, and in this alone,

In all things else, like twins, our tastes are one.
By each the same's approved, the same denied;
Two constant doves, long tenderly allied.
You guard the nest, while I the country rove,
Admire the brooks, the moss-grown rocks, and grove.
I live, I reign, soon as I leave behind

Those busy scenes, where you such pleasure find.
Like a priest's slave, on dainty fragments fed,

I nauseate cakes, and long for simple bread.

Would you obedient live to nature's voice,
What favoured spot should sooner fix your choice
Than where, mid rural scenery, spread around
Secure retreat and calm repose are found?
Say, where does winter hold a milder sway,
Or fresher breezes cool the summer's ray
That dries and scorches all the grassy plain,
When the mad lion, or the dog star reign?
What scenes can better soothe the aching breast,
And calm each anxious, envious, care to rest?
Does the green herbage, that adorns the field,
In smell or beauty to the marble yield?
Flows water purer through the bursting lead,
Than when it murmurs o'er its pebbly bed!
Why mid your Parian columns towers the tree;

Why prais'd the house, whence length'ning fields you see è

Because, though oft by violence suppress'd,

Nature still lives and acts in every breast;

By silent efforts still regains her sway,

Corrects your tastes, and bids your hearts obey.

To him, who can't discern with skilful eye,

The Tyrian from the Aquinatian dye;
No loss more deep or certain will accrue,

Than to the man, who knows not false from true.

If fortune's smiles too fondly swell the heart,

When chang'd, her frowns a deeper pain impart.
Reluctant we resign what much we love;

Then from your thoughts ambitious schemes remove.
A humble roof more real bliss can give,

Than kings or courtiers from their pomp receive.

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The stag, in fight superior to the steed,
Vanquish'd and drove him from the verdant mead;
The horse asks aid of man, receives the rein,
And proud in victory prances o'er the plain;
But ah, unhappy strives in vain to shake,
The rider from his back, or bridle from his neck.
So he, who fearing indigence, resigns
Freedom, more precious than the wealth of mines,
Shall meanly cringe, a slave to lordly power,
And serve a master till his dying hour,
Because he could not, with contented mind,
E'n in a better place, and pleasure find.
Our fortunes use us like our shoes; we fall,
If they're too large, they pinch us if too small. -
Then live my Fuscus, happy in thy share
Of fortune's favours; nor thy censure spare
If e'er I seem ambitious to acquire,
Beyond what frugal reason should desire.
Gold far less fit to govern, than obey,

A slave must serve us, or a tyrant sway.
My muse behind Vacunia's mould'ring fane
Hath thus to Fuscus tun'd her humble strain;
And here, where all the rural pleasures meet,
I want but thee, to make my bliss complete.

C.

SELECTED POETRY.

WE presume very few of our readers have ever seen the following beautiful "HYMN TO HARMONY," in the manner of Spencer, by Dr. Jortin.

QUEEN of sweet numbers and resistless sound,

Which can the soul with pleasing force enthral,
And hold the thoughts in deep attention bound,
And bid th' obedient passions rise and fall;
All powerful Harmony! on thee I call;
From dark oblivion I thy deeds would raise ;
O tune my lyre and help my feeble lays !

As yet this world no being-place had found;
Wild chaos rul'd and sable-vested night,
Whilst jarring atoms, through the vast profound
By chance and discord left to doubtful fight,
Strove with tumultuous rage and restless might;
Till harmony and love compos'd the fray

And chas'd the shades of ancient night away.

Love, whose approach the darkness dares not bide,
Shot from his starry eyes ten thousand rays:
She to the chords her softest touch apply'd,

Then louder 'gan the swelling notes to raise,
And sung fair Peace, and beauteous Order's praise.
Her voice sweet sounded through the boundless deep,
And all was calm and all did silence keep.

The list'ning atoms straight forgot their hate,

And pleas'd, yet wond'ring at their change, they stood, Strange force of sounds, such fury to abate!

Then each with fond embrace the other woo'd,
And each eternal peace and union vow'd.

Love bound them, nothing loath, in lasting chains,
And o'er them all, his willing subjects, reigns.

Then yon bright orb began to roll askance,

His course essaying through th' ecliptick way;
And wand'ring stars to move in mystick dance,
And skies their azure volumes to display :
Then 'gan the earth to smile in fair array,

And new-born man with wonder and delight,
Gaz'd all around him on the beauteous sight.

This work perform'd, the goddess took her flight,
Winging the wide-expanded fields of air,
To her own native place, the realms of light,
Where dwell the gods devoid of grief and care,
Around her golden throne they all repair;

Enwrapp'd in silent transport, while she sings
Sweet lays, responsive to the trembling strings.

Yet thence, though rarely, the celestial guest
Deigns to descend, unseen of mortal eyn,
And gently glides into the poet's breast:
She comes, and lo! he feels the power divine;
New images begin to rise and shine,

Keeping due measure, wooing hand in hand,
And sober judgment leads the sprightly band.

Such was Calliope's unhappy son,

Whose tuneful harp could soothe the savage kind,
And bid descending streams forget to run.

Poor youth! no charms in musick could he find,
His bride twice lost, to ease his love-sick mind,
When hid beneath the hoary cliffs he lay

On Strymon's banks and mourn'd his life away.
Such was the eyeless Greek, great sacred name!
Who snatch'd the son of Thetis from the grave:
And hung his arms high in the house of fame,
Victorious still, time's envious power to brave,
While suns arise and seek the western wave,
Such he, who in Sicilia's flowery plains

Tun'd to the oaten reed his Dorick strains.

And he, who sung the frantick rule of chance,
Leaving no room for wisdom and for choice,
And built the world with atoms drove askance,
Theme all unworthy of a skilful voice :

And Mantua's swain, whose clearer notes rejoice
Th' enravish'd ear; so graceful he relates

Flocks, fields, and swains, and fierce-contending states.

And like the Greek, in fate and in renown,

Britannia's poet, born in later days,

Whose brow new wreaths and flowers celestial crown;
And sung man's hapless fall, and angel's frays;
And, bold to venture through untrodden ways,
Explor❜d the secrets of the frowning night,
And soar'd above the stars with daring flight.

Nor shall my partial song leave thee unsaid,
Worthy to mix with this harmonious band,
Thee, gentle Spencer, whom the muses led
Through fancy's painted realms, and fairy land,
Where vice and virtue all embody'd stand,
Where useful truths in fair disguise appear,
And more is understood than meets the ear.

Come, condescending goddess, and impart
A mild assistance to an aching breast:
Exert the force of thy propitious art;

If thou be present, who can be distrest?
Pain seems to smile, and sorrow is at rest;
The thoughts in mad disorder cease to roll,
And still serenity o'erspreads the soul.

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