'Tis the better, my mates; for the Warder's dull

eye

Shall in confidence slumber, nor dream we are nigh.

Our steeds are impatient! I hear my blythe Grey! There is life in his hoof-clang, and hope in his neigh;

Like the flash of a meteor, the glance of his mane Shall marshal your march through the darkness and rain.

The drawbridge has dropp'd, and the bugle has blown;

One pledge is to quaff yet-then mount and be gone!

To their honour and peace, that shall rest with the slain;

To their health and their glee, that see Teviot again!

Sonnets.

TO A SNOW-DROP, Appearing very early in the Season.

BY MR. WORDSWORTH.

Lone Flower, hemm'd in with snows and white as they,

But hardier far, though modestly thou bend
Thy front-as if such presence could offend!
Who guards thy slender stalk, while, day by day,
Storms, sallying from the mountain-tops, way-lay
The rising sun, and on the plains descend?
Accept the greeting that befits a friend,
Whose zeal outruns his promise! Blue-ey'd May
Shall soon behold this border thickly set

With bright jonquils, their odours lavishing
On the soft west-wind and his frolic peers;
Yet will I not thy gentle grace forget,
Chaste Snow-drop, vent'rous harbinger of
spring,

And pensive monitor of fleeting years!

THE FROZEN PANE.

Artist invisible! that dipt in dew,

Hast on the glass thy wizard pencil laid; Swift let me trace the forms thy fancy drew, Thy spires and cities, all of diamond hue; Cataracts and streams of liquid crystal made, ? That liquid gems distil; thy scenes renew.

Whate'er old bards, or later minstrels feign,
Of secret grottos underneath the wave,
Where Naiads roof with spar the amber cave ;-
Or bowers of bliss, where oft the Elfin train,

At summer's evening, to the sprightly sound, Of more than earthly music, beat the ground In masque and morrice on the moonlight plain.

Sketches.

EXPOSURE TO SERVANTS.

Say not unto the crow, "Why numberest thou seven times the age of thy lord?" or to the fawn, "Why are thine eyes to see my offspring to a hundred generations?" Are these to be compared to thee in the abuse of life? Are they riotous! Are they cruel? Are they ungrateful? Learn from them rather, that innocence of life and simplicity of manners, are the paths to a good old age.

What part of life is it that we would wish to remain with us? Is it youth? Can we be in love with outrage, licentiousness and temerity.

ECONOMY OF HUMAN LIFE.

There is an old French saying which informs us, that no man is a hero in the eyes of his Valet de Chambre. 1 happen to have been long enough in the world to have known France during the ancient regime, before the revolution, and I can hear testimony to the truth of this maxim in that country.

What led me particularly to this subject was a scape-grace Nephew of mine having dropped a letter intended for his own man' (as he is commonly called.) He had forgotten to seal it; being frightened by the voice of a dun, which induced him to slip out of my garden gate in the country, and to order his horses round; after which he cantered off for a snug retreat of his own. The letter was verbatim as follows, and addressed to his servant,

at his town house :

"John Thomson-I write this to inform

you, that I have left my uncle's house. The damned jeweller called there; and it is too hot to hold me any longer. I had given the porter a crown, with orders to say that if any one called, I was gone to Ramsgate; but the fellow is a bungling rascal, and not used to town work. Should **** call in town, swear to him that I have taken a trip to France for a few months. You must tell Bishop* to take the bay horse, got by Goldfinch, from the straw-yard; and he is to make him up and sell him. I am convinced that I have overworked him, and that his wind is touched. If this be observed by the buyer, Bishop must swear that it is nothing but a trifling cough. You'll be glad to hear, that I have got rid of His head groom, another confident!

the filly and of the brown balance horse. The filly is as vicious as hell; and would have broken some of our necks. I sold her to a Portuguese. The horse looked uncommonly well. His coat was like a looking-glass. So much for care and antimony. He fetched a hundred and fifty; and an't worth a damn. Tell this to Bishop; he'll hardly believe it. If Mary Williams comes plaguing me for money, give her five pounds; tell her that it is useless to be thus troublesome. Swear that I am abroad; and that it is in vain to call any more, as you must give her to understand that I will do no more for her. I am quite tired of the girl, and I wish somebody else would take a fancy to her. Apropos, you must pay that woman for linen. Her account is exorbitant; but never mind: there is a very pretty girl who works at the shop, to whom you will deliver the enclosed. I mean to pro vide for her (just as he did for Mary Williams); and if she receive my letter well, confide to her where I am, and furnish her with the means of coming to me. Speak very highly of me, and I will reward you handsomely for it. I am quite short of clothes; having only twelve pair of trowsers and twenty waistcoats, one black, one blue, and one mixture coat, besides the two tunics. I look horridly in the olive brown tanic. It makes me as sallow

and bilious-looking as the devil. I only tried it on. I wish that Allen would take it back: let it lie for a day or two on his counter; and to the first Johnny Raw of a fellow who wants a tunic in a great hurry, Allen can swear that this one is just made for my Lord so and so; and if it fit the spoony, he can take it off his hands: otherwise I must keep it; but as for paying for it, that is quite another matter. The dealer who sold me that balance horse is a damned scoundrel. He thought to do me; but I'm more of a dealer than him!' The

greenhorn, who bought him of me, is just emerged from Westminster, and I make clear sixty guineas by the transaction. I send by loons; they must be altered. You know that the carrier the last two pair of dress panta I am a little what is vulgarly called baker kneed, which I explained to the German fool who made them. A pad would remove the defect. What an ass a tailor must be who can't fit a man well, be his deformities what

they may! Apropos, I must have six new pair of stays by the time I return, and six pair of spurs from Vincent's. Long's is a devil of a bill-but it will never be paid. I do not recollect any thing else, only keep peace amongst my undutiful and clamarous creditors."

(Signed as usual.)

"P.S. Tell Bishop that I have sold the brace of pointers for fifty guineas. Don cost me half that sum. I bought him of Sir George. The lean dog an't worth a guinea, and never cost me but three; so that I don't lose there. I shall remit you'money in a post or two.'

Now if my Nephew have not here exposed all the defects of his body and of his mind to his confidential servant, I will consent to be a brewer's dray-horse! A pretty opinion John Thomson must have of his master! He writes him an easy, dashing, familiar, and disgraceful narrative, in the form of a letter which contains just this account of himself. He is in debt and in love. In the first, he is not only extravagant, but unprincipled. In the second he is not only a voluptuary, bnt a base seducer. In his horse-dealing transactions, he is a rogue; and in his toilette arrangements, he is a fool. Seducer, cheat, liar and scoundrel, are all contained in this detail, which is slurred over with as much sang froid and self-satisfaction as if were giving directions for the improvement of his estate, dispensing donations to the poor, and patting in practice every social virtue. A fine master has John Thomson got! a fine Customer have Messrs. Allen, Vincent, the jeweller, and the German to boast of! With regard to Mary Williams, my heart bleeds for her. But as for the pretty seamstress, unless she is deaf to good counsel, she shall not be lost for want of a caution from

he

Tales.

THE VICAR'S TALE.

A TRUE STORY.

[Concluded from our last.]

I retired to my room, but every attempt to procure sleep proved ineffectual. Harriet had So wholly occupied my thoughts, that no moment of the night was suffered to pass un--noticed.

At length, "when soared the warbling lark on high," I left my couch, and rejoined my worthy landlord, who was busily employed in the arrangement of his garden. Though I declined mentioning the subject of our last might's adventure, he saw the marks of anxious expectation in my countenance, and proceeded to gratify the curiosity which he had inspired-"It will be necessary," said he, before I proceed to relate the woes that befel my daughter, to give a short sketch of my own life

"Six and twenty years ago, a lady came hither for the benefit of her health, the air being recommended as highly salubrious.— On her arrival, she gave out that she was the daughter of a clergyman, who was lately dead, and had left her in narrow circumstances. I thought it my duty to visit her, and offer her any little attention in my power. She received me with politeness; and expressed a wish to cultivate my acquaintance.

I continued to repeat my visits for some time, without suspecting that there was any thing particular in her history; till, one morning, I found her in tears, reading a letter which she had just received. On my entrance, she gave it to me: it contained a notification from Lord B.'s agent, that her usual remittances would no longer be continued. On opening this letter, I was led to suppose that her connection with Lord B. was not of the most honourable nature. But all my suspicion vanished, on her producing several letters from Lord B. to her mother, with whom he had been long connected. From these letters I learned, that the young lady was the daughter of Lord B. by Miss M. sister to a Scotch baronet, whom he had seduced, and supported during the remainder of her life. But he had, it seems, determined to withdraw his protection from the fruit of their connection. She declared, that she knew not what step to take, as her finances were nearly exhausted. I endeavoured to comfort her, assuring her, that she should command every assistance in my power. On hearing this, she seemed a little satisfied, and became more composed. After sitting with her some time, I returned home, to consider in what manner I might most easily afford protection to the young orphan, whose whole dependance was on my support. If I took her home to live with me, as I was unmarried, it would give offence to my parishioners;-my income was too confined to admit of my affording her a separate establishment. Thus circumstanced, I determined to offer her my hand.

"You will, no doubt, say it was rather an imprudent step, for a man who had seen his fortieth year, to connect himself with youth and beauty: but, as my brother was then living, it was impossible for me to render her the smallest assistance on any other plan.

"She received my proposal with grateful surprise, and accepted it without hesitation.-In a few days, we were married; and have now lived together six-and-twenty years, in a state, the felicity of which has never been interrupted by those discordant jars which are so frequently the concomitants of matrimony; though, alas! our peace has received a mortal wound, from one, the bare mention of whose name fills me with horror! But, not to digress-before the return of that day which saw me blessed with the hand of Emily, my happiness received an important addition by the birth of a daughter, who inherited all her mother's charms. It is superfluous to add, that she was equally the idol of both her parents; and, as she was the only fruit of our marriage, she became every day a greater favourite. My wife had received such an edu cation, as rendered her fully capable of accomplishing her daughter in a manner far superior to any thing that her situation required, or,

perhaps, could justify. To this agreeable employment, however, she devoted her whole time; and, when Harriet had reached her eighteenth year, she was in every respect a highly-accomplished woman. With an amiable temper, and gentle manners, she was the idol of the village. Hitherto she had experienced a state of felicity unknown in the more exalted stations of life-unconscious, alas! of the ills that awaited her future years.

"It is with reluctance that I proceed in the melancholy narrative-One evening, as a young man, attended by a servant, was passing through the village, his horse started and threw him. Happening to be on the spot at the time, I offered every assistance in my power; and, conveying him to my cottage, dispatched his servant in quest of a surgeon; who declared our patient was not in any danger, but recommended him to delay his departure for a day or two. His health, however, or rather his love, did not admit of his travel ling for near a fortnight; during which time he established his interest with Harriet, by the most pleasing and unremitting attention to her slightest wishes. When about to depart, he requested leave to repeat his visit, on his return from his intended tour; dropping, at the same time, some distant hints of his affection for Harriet, to whom he was by no means indifferent.

"Mr. H. (for so our guest was named) informed us, previous to his departure, that he had a small independent fortune; but that, from a distant relation, he had considerable expectation. After bidding an affectionate adieu to Harriet, he set out on his intended tour, which lasted for a month.

"During the time of Mr. H.'s absence, Harriet appeared pensive; and, I observed, with pain, that he had made no slight impression on her heart. At length, Mr. H. returned; and Harriet's reception of him left us no room to doubt her attachment. During this second visit, he was very assiduous to secure the favour of all the family: with Harriet he easily succeeded; nor were Mrs. T. or myself disposed to dislike him. His manners were elegant, and his wit was lively. At length, he obtained from Harriet the promise of her hand, provided her parents should not object. Hitherto, I had never been induced to make any enquiries concerning his circumstances and character. Now, however, by his direction, I applied to a Mr. E. a clergyman of his acquaintance. This gentleman, now in an exalted station in the Church, then chaplain

to Lord C. informed me, that Mr. H. was in every respect a desirable match for my daughter; and that, whenever his cousin should die, he would be enabled to maintain her in affluence and splendor: he added, that his character was unexceptionable. Little suspecting

the villainous part Mr. E. was acting, I rea dily consented to the proposed union, and performed the ceremony myself. Mr. H. requested that their marriage might be kept a secret, till the birth of a son and heir. This proposal rather alarmed me, but it was too late to retreat; and, knowing no one in the great world, it was impossible for me, previous to the marriage, to procure any account of Mr. H. but such as his friend communicated to me.

Thus circumstanced, I could only consent; and, as Harriet readily adopted every proposal that came from one she so tenderly loved, the matter was finally agreed on.After staying a few days, he set off for London; but soon returned, and passed the whole winter with us; and, in the spring, Harriet admire, I now pressed him to acknowledge was delivered of that little girl you so much my daughter as his wife. To this he answered that, had she brought him a son, he would readily have complied with my request; but, that his cousin was so great an oddity, he could not bear the idea, to use his own expression, of having his fortune lavished in a milliner's shop! But,' added he, if you insist on it, I will now risk the loss of all his fortune, and introduce my Harriet to his presence.'

"Harriet, however, again interfered, and desired that Mr. H. might not be forced into measures which might in the end prove de structive of his future prospects, and induce him to regret the day he ever saw her. These arguments prevailed; and Mr. H. was suffered to continue as a member of the family, without any farther notice being taken of the subject. In this manner had three years elapsed, undistinguished by any remarkable event; Mr. H. generally passing half the year with us, and the remainder in London, attending, as he said, on his cousin. When, one day, as he was sitting with us at dinner, a chaise and : four drove up to the house. The servants enquired for Mr. H. and, on hearing he was there, opened the carriage door. A gentleman, dressed like an officer, jumped out, followed by a lady in a travelling dress; and they rushed immediately into the room. Their appearance amazed us; but Mr. H. betrayed the most visible marks of consternation. The lady appeared to be about thirty. She was a woman by no means destitute of personal charms. The moment she entered the room, she seized on Harriet; and, loading her with every horrible epithet, proceeded to indulge her passion by striking her innocent rival.-the lady, forcibly turned her out of the house, On seeing this, an old servant of mine seized and then fastened the door.

"It was not, till now, that we noticed the absence of Mr. H. who had, it seems, retired with the lady's companion. We were still lost in amazement, at the transaction we had just