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spring shall impart their sweetest fragrance to the breeze that lingers around the tomb of the Teian bard.

There the chords of the plaintive lyre shall often respire the sad and solemn notes of wo, and the virgins who dwell at the foot of the double mountain shall chaunt his dirge.

As the winds of the declining year assail the greenclad trees and strew the ground with their foliage, and the approaching spring bids them revive with renovated beauty, so is one generation of man called from the joys of life, and another succeeds. But long shall Ilyssus roll his inspiring flood, and many Olympiads shall ye

walk in the porticos of Athens, or stray by the side of the silver Strymon, before your ears shall be gladdened by such sounds as ye heard from the lyre of Anacreon : for the Graces presided at his birth, and the Muses delighted to inspire his meditations.

MARY WILL SMILE.

BY WILLIAM CLIFFTON.

THE morn was fresh, and

pure

the gale, When Mary, from her cot a rover, Pluck'd

many a wild rose of the vale To bind the temples of her lover. . As near his little farm she stray'd,

Where birds of love were ever pairing, She saw her William in the shade,

The arms of ruthless war preparing.

Though now,” he cried, “I seek the hostile plain, Mary shall smile, and all be fair again.”

She seized his hand, and " Ah !" she cried,

“ Wilt thou, to camps and war a stranger, Desert thy Mary's faithful side,

And bare thy life to every danger ? Yet go, brave youth ! to arms away!

My maiden hands for fight shall dress thee,
And when the drum beats far

away,
I'll drop a silent tear and bless thee.
Return'd with honour, from the hostile plain,
Mary will smile, and all be fair again.

“ The bugles through the forest wind,

The woodland soldiers call to battle, Be some protecting angel kind,

And guard thy life when cannons rattle !"

She sung, and as the rose appears

In sunshine, when the storm is over, A smile beam'd sweetly through her tears,

The blush of promise to her lover. Return'd in triumph from the hostile plain, All shall be fair, and Mary smile again.

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AN ADVENTURES

FROM INCHIQUIN'S LETTERS.

BY C. J. INGERSOLL.

On a fine morning, three days ago, I sallied out for a ramble before breakfast, thinking, perhaps, to see something worthy of observation; and as adventures were my object, I left the highway, or avenue, as it is called, and struck into the moor, that composes a great part of the city. I had not walked a mile, when I heard a gun go off, and saw the smoke rising at a little distance. Not caring to encounter fire-arms in so wild a place, I was turning back, when I saw a dog hunting about among the bushes, and close after him a young man, who came running towards me, not to plunder, as I for an instant apprehended, but merely to inquire if I had seen a covey of quails flying that way. He had a powder-horn and shot-bag over his shoulders, a liquor flask hanging on one side, and a pouch full of dead quails on the other, was altogether rather coarsely caparisoned, and seemed to be intent on his game. Just after he accosted me, an officer, in a rich habit and laced hat, but unarmed, came riding very fast over the heath, leading a horse ready saddled and bridled, and drawing up close to where we stood, pulled off his hat, and said to the hunter, “Sir, there are despatches just arrived." 66 When?” cried the hunter. 6. Within this half hour—by express—two sets, Sir.” 6 Give me the horse, and take my gun," added the hunt

er hastily; and disencumbering himself from his shooting accoutrements, he vaulted into the saddle of the led horse, and galloped out of sight in a minute. All amazed at this mysterious meeting, “Pray, Sir,” said I respectfully to the officer, as he was gathering up the things the hunter had thrown off, “Who is that ?" 66 That is the envoy,answered the officer, with an air of dignity. “But who is the envoy?” replied I, “What is an envoy? That's not the president, is it?” “ The president,” retorted the officer, with a sneer, “I believe not—that's another guess sort of a person—that's the envoy extraordinary." “ But why is he extraordinary?” said I. "Why because,” said he.

“ Because why?” said I. «Why because he is the British ambassador, my master, and the king his master's servant, and I am his servant, and neither he nor I cares a den for the president, for the matter of that,” said the officer, and mounting his beast, he trotted away whistling after the other.

And is it possible thought I, that that young hunter is the British ambassador, the representative of the great merchant monarch, whose fleet forced the Dardanelles, and threatened to batter down Constantinople.

With this sort of mental ejaculations I amused myself, strolling along in a different direction from that I had followed at first, and not paying much attention to which way I went, till I came to a thicket, where I was roused from my reverie by the report of another gun, and looking about, I saw a rabbit, pursued by a couple of dogs in full cry. As I was always fond of the chase, you know, and used often to amuse myself in this way on the hills near Ismir, I joined instinctively in the pursuit, shouted to encourage the dogs, and made the best exertions I could to keep up with them. The rabbit doubled, and made back for the cover. Just as she was escaping into the

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