"both my brother and myself are marked with that fruit---mine is on the left." "Is it like this?" said Tranquillus, throwing off his coat, and pushing up his shirt sleeve with uncommon agitation---" Is it like this?" he again repeated. The old man, looking stedfastly on the arm of Tranquillus, "It is exactly," he replied, and instantly bareing his arm, shewed its counterpart. "Just Heaven!" exclaimed Tranquillus, " I have found my brother!"--" Great God!" rejoined Contristor," thou art as wise in inflicting thy punishments, as in bestowing thy rewards; give me power but to embrace him, and I shall die in peace."Tranquillus stepping forward, took him in his arms,--it was an embrace of joy; while Contristor, faulteringly pronounced, "Forgive me, O my brother, and I shall then be happy!" Tranquillus immediately replied, "Then be happy! I have fortune sufficient to supply the wants of us both; we will part no more; I will to-morrow call on my neighbours, and celebrate---my Joy."

Thoughts.

1. IT was an observation of a certain celebrated author, That all men were either knaves or fools, or a composition of both; if that be the case, it is a great mercy of heaven, when a knavishly disposed person is a fool, because he can then do the least mischief.

2. WE often find in intricate cases, that the best of men are the worst of counsellors: this, at first, appears strange; but the wonder will vanish, if we consider worldly policy as generally inconsistent with virtue.

3. FORGIVENESS of injuries is certainly a noble principle, but how few who pretend to it really possess it.---I forgive my enemy (says one); "But he wants your assistance, will you give it him?" No! that is too much.---“ I have been much injured by such a person, (cries another); I heartily forgive him, but I cannot forget his behaviour; I shall remember it with the first opportunity."--What is all this, but an indication of revenge, which they chuse not directly to acknowledge.

4. CHRISTIANITY is, on all hands acknowledged (even by its opposers) to be a religion breathing nothing but charity and peace; yet it is certain, that there have been as many foreign wars, as many intestine commotions among the Christians, as ever there were among the Heathen world; to what can this be owing? It may be said, to the depravity of mankind. But should we go further, and ask, under the government of an infinitely good Being, to what this depravity was owing? how different would be the answers returned by various sects of our religion; how vague, how unsatisfactory the conclusion!

5. THE bards and sages have allotted the best places in Elysium to good monarchs, the worst in Tartarus to the bad ones. What then should become of good and bad ministers? But on this head

they were silent; because secondaries did not always rule their masters, nor princes walk in the trammels of adminis

tration.

6. THOSE who pretend either to more piety or more wisdom than others, seldom find their account in such a conduct; in the first instance, it becomes people to talk little of their piety, lest they should be called hypocrites; and in the second, it is not well for a man to make a vaunt of his wisdom, lest others should be more cunning in their dealings with him, and take uncommon pains to make a fool of him.

7. A Prince's glory is somewhat like a woman's chastity; when he once suffers it to be sullied it is lost, and is generally ever after prostituted to the meanest purposes.

Tit Bits.

SOLEMN FUNERAL.--Sometime since a lady of fortune, at the west end of the town, had her favourite lap-dog, named Diamond, interred with great funeral pomp; his coffin was covered with black cloth, ornamented with white nails, handles, and a plate upon the coffin, on which was engraved his age and pedigree; her servants that attended the funeral had white gloves and favours given them upon the unhappy occasion.

.

CURIOUS BARGAIN.-A publican in Shoreditch sold his wife to a butcher for a ticket in the present lottery, on condition that if the ticket be drawn a blank, he is to have his wife again as soon as the drawing of the lottery is over.

CHANGE OF MIND.--An old maiden lady at Dover, having taken it into her head that she should die in a few days, gave direction to the sexton of the parish, to which she belonged, to dig her out a handsome deep grave; but meeting with a young cornet before the muchapprehended time arrived, she was prevailed upon to accompany him to church on a very different occasion. The honest sexton was hard at work for her as she

passed by, when she generously clapped half a guinea into his hand, and bid him fill it up again with the utmost expedition.

Translation of a Charge given by a Grand Signior to a new Grand Vizir at his Installation.

THOU Hamzay Pacha, my grand vizir, and absolute minister, who hast been raised to the circuit of my imperial palace, and whose behaviour and fidelity have been approved; I have chosen thee in preference to all my other vizirs, to intrust thee with my imperial seal. In consequence of which, if thou conductest the affairs of the slaves of the Deity with the requisite fidelity in protecting and favouring the poor, and by conforming thyself to my imperial mind, thou wilt be beloved in this world, and in that which is to come. Mahamed Pacha, thy predecessor, drawn away by his extreme avarice, and by some evil councils, having disgraced, by his corruption, the honor of my Sublime Porte, has been therefore deprived.

N. B. It is to be wished that all European courts, when they appoint or discharge their ministers or servants, would thus publicly declare their reasons; as such persons would then attend more to the rectitude of their conduct than they do at present, and the public would reap the benefit of it.

CUNNING FOX.---Some years ago a young fox was kept at the Golden Bear

Inn at Reading, and employed in a wheel to turn the jack; after a while reynard gave his keeper the slip, aud regained his native fields: this very fox was afterwards pursued by the hounds, but running into the town, he sprung over an half door which opened into the kitchen, jumped into his wheel, resumed his former occupation, and saved his life. This, though very amazing, is absolutely true.

MASQUERADE ANECDOTE.---The commending the prodigious trencher editor of the Dublin Weekly Gazette, prowess of a gentleman who personated a hungry sailor at the Lord Lieutenant's late fancy ball, repeats the following pleasant story:

"He reminded us," says the editor, "of an original and comical scene at the masked ball given on the occasion of the marriage of the Dauphin to the Archduchess of Austria, which afforded much diversion to Louis XV. A large beaufet, splendidly furnished, afforded refreshment in profusion to the company at the ball. A mask in a yellow domino came there frequently, and made unconscionable havoc among the cooling liquors, the exquisite wines, and all the solid provisions. No sooner did this mask disappear, than he came back more hungry than ever. He was observed by some masks who shewed him to others. The yellow domino at length became the object of universal curiosity. His Majesty wished to see him, and anxious to know who he was, had him followed. It was found that this was a domino belonging in common to the Hundred Royal Swiss Guards, who, putting it on alternately, succeeded each other at this post, which, we need scarcely add, was not the worst in the room, until they had nearly all shared in the repast.

Trifles.

Accendit lumina Vesper. VIRGIL.

'Twas even-light ;-more beautiful the star
Did ne'er o'erflow it's urn with gentle ray;
The western orb had now retir'd afar,
And sunk beneath the blush of parting day.

SELF-EXAMINATION.

Nor let soft slumbers close your eyes,
Before you've recollected thrice
The train of actions through the day,
Where have my feet chose out the way.
What have I learn'd, where'er I've been,
From all I've heard, from all I've seen?
What know I more that's worth the knowing,
What have I done that's worth the doing?
What have I sought that I should shun,
What duty have I left undone,
Or into what new follies run?
These self-enquiries are the road
That leads to virtue and to God.

FROM THE GERMAN.

When low in earth my frame forgotten lies, Its crimson currents shall in vapours rise, Float where you tread, and fall in dews around,

'Till flowers spring up and spangle all the The insect forms that from its dust proceed, ground; On glittering pinions to thy couch shall speed, Gaze on thy charms, and still from morn to night

Drink draughts of pleasure, and prolong delight;

Meanwhile my spirit, kindly freed by death, Shall prompt thy thoughts, and mingle with thy breath,

Cleave to thy vitals, soothe each inward smart,

And leave its image graven on thy heart.

THE BEAU.

The beau buys Fielding's works complete,
Each page with rapture cons
Sophias finds in every street,
And is himself Tom Jones.

To some gay girl his vows are given,
And soon he learns to tell

That when she smiles, he is in heaven,
And when she frowns, in hell.

Ague or Influenza soon

Comes on; he weds a wife;

The warm fit ends with one short moon, The cold fit lasts for life.

LINES,

Address'd by a Lady to her Infant.

I'll teach thee, as thou grow'st, to look,
With a fond eye, on Nature's book;
And there, my little one, thou'lt see
How many things resemble thee!

Thou'lt see the blink of morning's eye
Upon a grey and cloudless sky;
And think, with smiles, that genial ray
Shall light a blue and cheery day.

Thou'lt see, my Babe, (and scarcely see)
The first light green of forward tree;
And think, the birds shall build and sing
Within its leafy covering.

Thou'lt see the Moon, a very thread,
And think thee how its horns will spread,
'Till thou shalt spend one blessed night
Beneath its full and quiet light.

Thou'lt see the first bud of the rose,
Its first small streak of red disclose ;

And think, how sweet the air will be, And day all bright around that tree!

Ay, Little One, and such art thou!
I look upon thy peaceful brow-
Thy gentle eyes, that roll the while—
Thy lips, that have not learnt to smile.

And, as I look, I seem to see,

Not that which is, but what shall be;
And all my hopes are on the wing,
As busy as the bees of spring.

I see thy Sun, at highest noon;
I see thy full bright Harvest Moon;
Thy Tree, in majesty of shade;
Thy Rose, in thousand blooms array'd.

But shall we wait the evening, dear?
And shall we wait the closing year?
When I am gone, thou still shalt see
How many things that image thee.

Alas! my Child, the Sun goes down,
And April's green hath turn'd to brown;
The Moon hath wau'd, the Flowers decay,
The year hath bloom'd, and died away.

E'en so!-And so our hopes decay,
And life is nought but memory ;
And time fleets on, and age must trace
Her wrinkles e'en up on that face.

And turn thy few thin hairs to white,
And do dishonour to thy sight;
And thou shalt rest thy weary head,
Thy shroud a dress, the grave thy bed!

ΤΟ

When I to yonder Church repair
To send my holy vows above,
An Angel there receives my pray'r,
An Angel there demands my love!
And must I say, that Angel's thou!
Thou! Thou! my charming gentle fair;
'Tis Thou alone, for whom I vow,

For whom I give my constant prayer.
O! I have mark'd that modest face,
Blooming with love and sympathy!
O! I have seen a seraph's grace
Beaming within thy timid eye!
Yes, I have seen! and while my soul
Did hang in rapture on thy form,
Sighs in succession from me stole,

Unconscious of the inward stormThe storm of Love!-That inward fire, Which raging, leaves my soul no rest. O! do not let that flame expire

"Till thou hast caught it in thy breast.

Then wine with it's opiate power

Can dea len the lingering smart,
And chase every cloud that may lower
Round the dreary abode of the heart.
When the roseate colour of youth

Shall give way to the cold hue of age,
And Man must acknowledge the truth
Steruly written in feeling's own page,
Then 'tis Wine that disperses the gloom,
And stifles the sigh of regret—
That levels our way to the tomb,

And lightens the last heavy debt!

When the Being is gone whom we cherish'd,

Whose fond smile illumin'd our way, When all in one dark night has perish'd, Wine only can bring back the day.

Then pour with a liberal hand,

Sprinkle Wine o'er the bearts that are blighted,

'Tis God's fairest gift to the land,

And his gifts are not meant to be sighted"

M. R. S.

THE ROBIN'S RETURN. "Winter again has sent his snows, The trees are bare, the streams are froze, And bitter blows the gale; Again my cherish'd Robin comes, And seeks his little meal of crumbs,

A meal that shall not fail,

For while those crumbs are mine to give,
He shall not want the means to live.
Nor is he thankless found,
For ever as the day appears,
His song the dreary mountain cheers,
Tho' storms are flying round.

Curs'd be the hand that dares molest,
The minstrel with the rosy breast,
The bird that claims our care,
His trust in man well pleases me,
"Tis fit the wanderer should be free,
To wing his native air."

LINES on the DEATH of PETER KELLY.* Poor Kelly, who liv'd by the charms of the chase,

And for threescore and ten years continued his race,

On the banks of the Boyne, thro' the woodlands of Louth,

Attended by many a musical mouth, That now in sad growlings their master deplore,

Who, alas! to the field shall conduct him

Oh, it is sweet to soothe the breast
That throbbing swells with tender feeling;
To view the cheek in dimples drest,
Where languid sorrow's tears were stealing.

Too oft, in Beauty's gayest hour,
The heart within is cold and gloomy;
"Too oft the smile is like the flow'r,
That lives not-feeds not-yet is bloomy.

Ah! hapless Woman may not tell

She loves, though love each glance revealing;

Her heart may beat-her bosom swell-
Her only hope is in concealing.