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help it, if I cry my eyes out: if I down on

ver of which lind promised her a ride gratis

, my knees, stiff as one of them is with the rheu- Dripping with heat, and sinothered in dust

, she matiz, it won't argufy nothing. Lord help had' nearly reached her destination; when a me; what's the use of an old woman's advice sudden jost in the road, stopping the fore-wheel

, now-a-days? The world will was it's own jerked her off in a quick-set-ledge, and the way, starve or thrive-peace or war-money coach was with difficulty saved froin overturnor no money-it's all a one, as I see."

ing. Súsan now closed the door, and soon re The sbrieks of Susan soon brought her assistturned with my trifling necessaries. A pedes- ance from the passengers; who raising her from trian traveller needs little equipment; one the entanglenient of the briari, discovered her change of linen suffices my wants in general; face woetully lacerated by the thorns, and cofor 1 always tind sufficient amusement in every vered with blood !—the poor, dear, treasured village, while my rustic laundress bleaches, on apron and handkerchief rent in shivers; while some hedge, my Sunday shirt and cravat. But, her cap and bonnet were left dangling on the in my former travels, having been often wet to bedge. my skin, I now determined to prevent that in In this cruel plight, she was humanely con. convenience, by purchasing myself a complete veyed to the house of her friend; the burning oil-skin dress; as its utility, compared with its tears of vexation flowing down the relics of her *** trifling weight, when pendant in my satchel, tattered finery: and it was not before a cup of it do would add very little to the burthen I am ever ale had enlivened and revived her spirits, that doomed to carry; and how far more honourable she began to reflect it was a mercy she escaped to be is it, to become an outward, than an inward with whole limbs. At length, after planning the porter! For, whether we bear in our bosoms how she could make the best of her misfortune, a weighty conscience, a mind ponderous with þy converting the ragged remnants into capiniquity, or a burden on our shoulders; we are borders, &c. and having well sluiced her ifta still

, literally, all porters, in this world: though wounded face with brandy, and adorned the he who bears- the heaviest load on his bark, deepest scars with sticking-plaister, in nine dif

. feels it only a feather-weight, compared to the ferent directions; the poor maimed, pleasure bilang ponderosity of heart that oppresses the appa- hunter, again'set off, nothing discouragod, with the lig rently disencumbered son of luxurious inde her friends, to the little theatre in the Hay-marpendence!

ket: first treating herself with a walk from Previous to my departure, Susan requested Battersca to the gallery-door; in ascending time a day's pleasure : adding, she had the offer of to which region, she lost one of her shoes

, a ticket for the play, an amusement she had among a violent crowd, that left her panting not partaken of" for fifteen years; and as it for respiration at the top of the stairs, and vowould cost her nothing, she had determined ciferating, in broken squalls, for her new calito accept the invitation, with my permission. manco shoe, bound with scarlet, and a square

No sooner was it granted, and my breakfast silver buckle without corners. finished, than ott' set Susan to Battersea; tricked In vain she begged every body to scarch out in her best black russet, and her piony hibiting so droll’au aspect, that an univera

for it-her

poor, patched, scarlet face, exchintz; with her stiff-tarched Ghenting apron sal laugh of reprobalion, alone answered and handkerchief, and a double plaited coif projecting four inches beyond the edge of a her; and after waiting a full half-hour, and small bonnet; while, round lier throat, nung scarching every nook and corner, she was a dozen nooses of black ribbon, dangling like obliged to submit to have her foot tied up a cluster of leeches; her rosy cheeks garnislied in a pocket handkerchief, and patiently take with soapy polish, and a straggling skein of her seat on the back-row, behind a very tail, glossy hair divided on her forehearl.

fat butcher,who totally precluded all possible Thus equipped, she bustled into the parlour, view of the stage; every other seat being to display her pageantry.

eagerly filled, while she had been hunting " So," said I, “the yellow soosce, and the

on the stairs. neat half-inch check, are tlırown aside to-day?" Mortified to the quick, by the jeers of the

Lauk-a-ulaisy, to be sure !"answered slie; gous and goddesses, on the loss of the scar* one does not take pleasure every day.”

let-bound calimanco shoe, and the square " God grant you merry, and happy, Susan!" buckle wilhout corners, poor Susan could

Thank you, Sir, I stiall be at home in good be literally said to enjoy nothing but hcat time, as soon as the play ends!" and oft she and elluvia ; which overpowered her to so whisked as agile as a squirrel.

eminent a degree, that sick and ill, she was Now, reader, I must intrude on your patience, obliged to go out for air. while I relate the pleasure Susan experienced: She had sat fanning herself several miwhich, having anticipated all night, had de- nutes, with a handful of her gown-tail, in the prived her of sleeping ; neither had she tasted passage ; .when, in an obscure corner, she an ounce of breaktast. In this flurry of promised espied something glitter ; and, to her great delight, she set off; and, having ran herself out joy, found her poor buckle, smashed to of breath, just arrived, to a moment, for a snug pieces ;, but no tatter of her shoe. Folding seat on the box of the Battersea coach, the dri: it up, with an intention of sccuring it in her

66

serey money-box, what was her terror, to “Pleasure,” replied I, “is seldoin withfind the pocket ripped and empty-with the out its alloy." little screw-sanctorum, containing a boarded “I don't know what an alloy is,” said half-guinea, and a lucky sixpence, all va Susan ; “but, I know, I have had enough nished !

of what you call pleasure, for one seven “Never was poor wretch so beset,” ex- years to come !" claimed Susan : “ God send me safe home! for I could lay down, and die, in this very place, for spite."

Thoughts. Tears choaked her utterance-Iler friends deplored her loss : and beyging her to con Perfection.—Where is the man, says the sole herself, led her back to her seat ; where World, that can pretend to perfection. The she had not been many minutes, before she World should fir t tell us, what is the perfection found herself seated in a pool of oil, from a of man. Isit to have conqnered the degrading lamp that trickled down the wall, and de- passions ?-To be void of avarice, enry, reluged, in enormous patches, her rich piony venge, and pride: – To be brave, faithful, chintz.

benevolent, and aspiring? – To exalt the Susan now earnestly entreated to go home, rational faculty w a knowledge of the Deity? though she had neither heard or seen any To trace Divinity in the precepts of Chrismore of the play than if she had been in Ja- tianity ? -Then, let the World scoff at pretenmaica; for her perpetual disasters had keptsions as it may, I will not think so ill of manher in full employ: and, when she reached kind as not to believe that there are many enthe street, she found her evening's pleasure titled to the praise of attaining the perfection was to close with a bare-foot tramp home, of their nature. in a thunder-storm!

LIBERALITY AND GENEROSITY.—I wonder No coach was attainable--the rain.beat that no dictionary should mark the difference in torrents-the thunder growled--the light- between liberality and generosity.. I would ning flashed—and Susan, terrified beyond contine the sense of the latter to the temper description, found no alternative, but to and sentiments. We often see great liberality wrap her gown over her head, grease or no

without a grain of generosity. grease; and, with her muffled foot, and

A COMPARISON.-It is with narrow-souled stockings dripping wet to the calves of her legs, to pace home as fast as possible. people, as with narrow-necked bottles-The

Judge, reader, when her furious rap de- less they have in them, the more noise they manded admittance at my door-judge, how make in pouring it out. the votary of pleasure made her entree; FRIENDSHIP.—Real friends are like ghosts while her disconcerted companions explained and apparitions--what many people talk of, the disastrous tale!

but few ever saw. I shall not animadvert– I shall leave the A TRUE AXIOM.—Nobility may be without reader to judge of Susan's feelings, losses, merit, as well as merit without nobility. and crosses : and, when she begged me, next morning, to calculate what was the amount of the damages she had sustained ; she found,

Triffes. to ber sorrow, that the pleasure which was to have cost nothing, had cleared her pocket of one pound ten—with the addition of a

LOVE BELOW STAIRS. lacerated face, and violent cold, into the bargain.

Dost ask when love's a happy fellow? Such is pleasure !-so alluring its prospect

Him when passion most is rich in! -yet, often, so ultimately deceitful! Susan

'Tis when tippling in the cellar, Jitte dreamed of the Jabyrinth in which it Or when feasting in the kitchen. ensnared her. But, when she found its pursuit so injurious, both to her health and

The cook and butler are his minions, pocket, she wisely observed, that she was With ruby nose and arms a-kimbo: convinced it was better to stay at home and With the one he wets his pinions, get money, than to gad abroad and lose it : With the other lights his flambeau. "and, henceforth,” said she, “ I never will say, I am determined to-morrow shall be a

ON A VERY SHORT LADY, ACCUSED OF day of pleasure, because as how I never suf

PRIDE. fered such a day of troubles and accidencies in my life; and, I'm sure, I shall be more

"She's vastly proud," I've heard you cry, happier, for the future, in my half-inch check, as master calls it, than stuck out at

But you must be in kuin; the devilsh playhouse, in my fine white

For does she not (in truth reply) Ghenting! Mayhap, it was judgmint upon Look up to er'ry one! me, for being so flaunty."

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The Demon of Fashion Sir Fopling bewitches

DESCRIPTION OF LIBERTY.
The reason his Lady betrays-
For as she is resolved upon wearing the breeches,

BY THE LATE MRS. ROBINSON.
In revenge he has taken the stays.

Thro' all the scenes of Nature's varying plan,

Celestial Frecdom warms the breast of man:
Derses.
.

Led by her darling hand, what power can bind

The boundless efforts of the lab ring mind?
HUMAN LIFE,

The god-like fervor, thrilling through the heart,

Gives new crcation to each vital part;
BY SAMUEL ROCERS, ESQ.

Tirobs rapture through each palpitating vein, [We cannot give a more favourable notice of Wings the rapt thought, and warms the fertile this chaste and beautiful work than by extraci.

brain. ing the few first vers:s, which so accuraiely, To her the noblest altributes of Ileav'n, yet briefly describe the history of mau, froin the

Ambition, valour, eloquence, are giv'n; cradle to the grave.]

She binds the Soldier's brow with wreathis sub

lime; The Lark has sung his carol in the sky; The Bees have humm'd their noon-tide lullaby.

From her expanding Reason learns to climb; Still in the vale the village-bells ring rourd,

To her the sounds of melody belong; Still in Lewellen Hall the jests resound:

She wakes the raptures of the Poet's song;For now the caudle-cup is circling there,

'Tis god-like Freedom bids cach passion live Now, glad at heart, the gossips breath their prayer,

That truth may boast, or patriot virtue give; And, crowding, stop the cradle to admire From her the Aris enlighten'd splendour own, The Babe, the sleeping image of his Sire. She guides the Peasant, and adorns the Throne;

To mild Philanthrophy extends her hand, A few short years--and then these sounds shall

Gives Truth pre-eminence, and Worth command ; hail

Her eye direets the path that leads to Fame, The day again, and gladness fill the vale;

Lights Valour's torch, and trims the glorious So soon the child a youth, the youth a man,

flame; Eager to run the race his fathers ran.

She scatters joy o'er Nature's endless scope, Then the huge ox shall yield the broad sir-loin ; Gives strength to Reason--ecstacy to Hope; The ale, now brew'd, in floods of amber shine: Teinpers each pang Humanity can feel, And basking in the chimney's ample blaze, And binds presumptuous Power with nerves of Mid many a tale told of his boyish days,

steel ; The nurse shall cry, of all her ills beguiled, Strangles each tyrant Phantom in its birth, " "Twas on these kyees so oft he sate and smiled.”

And knows no title--but SUPERIOR WORTR.

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TITE NOSS ROSE.

ΤΟ

IN SICILY, WITH THE IRISH MELODIES.

(FROM THE GERMAN.)

* * " where'er I have heard A kindred melody, the scene recurs, " And with it all its pleasures and its pains,"

Cowper.

The Angel of the flowers, one day,
Bedeath a rose-tree sleeping lay,

Tirat spirit—to whose charge is given, To bathe young buds in dews from Ileaven, Awaking from his light repose, The Angel whisper'd to the Rose, "O, fondest object of my care, Still fairest found where all are fair, For the sweet shade thou'st given to me, Ask what thou wilt, 'tis granted thee." " Then," said the Rose, with deepend glow, * On me another grace bestow." Tue Spirit paus'd, in silent thought,

grace was there that flower had not?
Twas but a moment-o'er the Rose,
A reil of moss the Angel throws,
And rob'd in Nature's simplest weed,
Could there a flower that Rose exceed?

ISABEL

What

The wild-wood songs I send thee here, Songs of that country ever dear, Haply may wake one thought of me, When far, far distant I shall be. O never o'er Sicilian seas Were wasted sweeter strains than these, And never did Sicilian measure Rouse such deep thrills of grief or pleasure. These breathings' of the native mind, Uncultur’d-strange-yet chaste---refin'de Speak to the soul with magic skill, And bend the passions to their will. But Irish hearts alone can tell The thoughts that in the bosom swell, Or gay, or sad---yet ever dear, As floats this music on the ear. Touch but the chord-the present flies, Visions of faded days arise, Of days that can return no more, Of hopes and fears for ever o'er. When in our weary wand'rings here Remembrances like those appear, As the soft sun through April showers, They gleam upon Kfe's shadowy hours. Then take these Songs~in happier climos They'll tell of half-forgotten times, Pointing the eye of memory To home-10 early friends—and me.

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THE BLIGIITED ROSE.

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How

gay was its foliage, how bright was its hue, flow it scented the breeze that blew round it; How carelessly sweet in the valley it grew,

Till the blight of the mildew had found it. Now faded, forlorn, scarce the wreck of its

charms, Remain e'en for Fancy's renewing ; Its branches are bare, like its thorny alarms,

And it lies the pale victim of ruin.
Discontent is the mildew that feeds on the mind,

That robs the warm cheek of its roses;
That cankers the breast of the rude or refin'd,

Where'er it a moment reposes. 'Tis a wizard, whose touch withers beauty away,

And denies every pleasure to blossom: Insidiously creeps to the heart of its prey,

And invites cold despair to the bosom.

ISABEL.

PITY.

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THE LAST TEAR.

She had done weeping, but her eyelash yet
Lay silken heavy on her lilied cheek,
And on its fringe a tear, like a lone star
Shining upon the rich and hyacinth skirts
O'the western cloud that veils the April even,
The Veil rose up, and with it rose the star,
Glt'ring above the gleam of tender blue,
That widen'd as the show'r clears off from Heav'n.
Her beauty woke---a sudden beam of soul
Flash'd from her eye, and lit the vestal's cheek
Leto one crimson, and exhaled the tear.

How lovely in the areh of Heaven

Appears yon sinking Orb of light,
As, darting through the clouds of even,

It gilds the rising shades of night!
Yet brighter, fairer, shines the tear
That trickles o'er misfortune's bier!
Sweet is the murmur of the gale

That whispers thro' the summer's grove; Soft is the tone of friendship's tale,

And softer s:ill the voice of love;
Yet softer far the tears that flow,
To mourn--to soothe another's woe.
Richer than richest diadem

That glitters on the Monarch's brow;
Purer than ocean's purest gem,

Or all that wealth or art can showThe drop that swells in Pity's eye, The pearl of sensilility!

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Is there a spark,
in carilly mould,

MONODY.
Fraught with one ray of heavenly fire! Written on lke denise of a nhole family of Gwi.
Does man one trait of virtue hold,

nea Pigs beionging to a Young Lady.(A) That even angels must admire ?

Ah! death has run such precious rigs That spark is Pity's radliant glow;

Among Miss Mary's Guinea Pigs, That trait-the tear for others' woe!

A murrain seize the glutton!
Let false philosophy decry

Sir Pig,(13) the most discreet and wise,
The noblest feeling of the mind;

My Lady Pig, of piercing eyes,
Let wretcited sophists madly try

The Messieurs Pig, of sundry size,
To prove a pleasure more rein'd, -

Are all as dead-as mutton !
They only strive in vain to steal

Peace to the pork!(c) is slumbers soundThe tenderness they cannot feel !

In everlasting doze profound,
To sink in Nature's last decay,

They mingle with the dust;
Without a friend to mourn the fall

No more the Knight shall look so sleek,
To mark its embers die away,

No more my Lady's pipe shall squeak,
Deplor'd by none--unwept by alla

No more their little ones, so meek,
This, this is sorrow's deadliest curse,

Shall each belolder's praise bespeak ; Nor hate, nor hell can form a worse!

They died--as others must!

Now then, o Muse! but just relate,
Take wealth–I know its flecting worth ;

This fainily's untimely late,
Take honour-it will pass away;

And death's relentless ravages;
Take pow's--I scorn the bounded earth;

Ilis victims, eager for a funcil
Take pomp—its trappings soon decay;

All unsuspicious, dared to munch
But spare me, grant me Pity's tear,

A, fatally, too ponderous bunch To soothe my woe--and mourn my bier !

Of Joha's best winter cabbages.

Ah! luckless lunch ! destructive food,
THE DRUM.

These sprigs of swinish multitude

Did sorely rue they took it;. I hate the Drum's discordant sound,

It serv J such a scurvy trick, Parading round, and round, and round;

Their Pigships one and all fell sickTo thoughtless youth it pleasure yields,

In short-THEY KICK'D THE BUCKET ! And lures from cities and from fields,

Notes-(A) As poets out of number hare beTo sell their liberty for charms

monodized (I like to coin my own expressions Of tawdry lace and glitt'ring arms;

dogs, cats, and birds, there is no reason why a And when ambition's voice commands,

Guinea Pig is not entitled to the same privilege.

(B) It may be necessary to observe, by way of To march, and fight, and fall, in foreign lands.

explanation, that these

grunting revellers"

had, from their earliest infancy, been distinguished I hate the Drum's discordant sound,

(througb the whim or caprice of their protectress) Parading round, and round, and round; by the titles of Sir, My Lady, &c. To me it talks of ravag'd plains,

(c) “ Peace to the Pork,' an acknowledged Aud burning towns, and ruin'd swains, plagiarism from the pattietic song of “ Peace to

the Brave!And mangled limbs, and dying groans, And widow's tears, and orphan's moans;

MR. GARRICK And all that misery's hand bestows,

Scnt the following Lines to a Nobleman who To fill the catalogue of human woes.

asked him if he did not intend being in Par-
Scott.

liament.
More than content with what my labors gain,

of public favor, though, a little vain;
THE AMIABLE WIFE.

Yet not so vain my mind, so madly bent,

To play the fool in Parliament. The maid I shall love, must be frec from disguise,

In each dramatic unity to err, Wear her heart on her lips, and her soul in her

Mistaking time, and place, and character ; eyes;

Wero it my fate to quit the mimic art, A soul by the precepts of virtue informid,

I'd “strut and fret" no more in any part; And a heart by the purest benevolence warm’d.

No more in public scenes would I enginge,
Her converse so varied as ever to please,

Or wear the map and mask op any stage.
Unaffectedly cheerful, and polish'd, wit'ı case ;
Fler person attractive, her temper serene, Printed and Published for the Proprietors, by
And her wit rather brilliant and playful than kcon. J. White, 41, Holywell-street, and may be

had of all Bookse!lers.

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