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For, well the sneaking fellow knew,
He made a noise in father's

pew,
And barked the other day.

On trusty donkey's back they place
The honoured grandsire of the race,

To walk, too feeble now;
While o'er her father's hairless head,
The daughter's handkerchief is spread,

To shield his naked brow.

At least, this once, however frail,
To go to church he cannot fail,

For Mary means to-day
To dedicate herself to God,
And tread the path her fathers trod,

And he for her must pray.

His grandchild solaced his decay,
Illumined his declining day,

For through her sunny eye,
He loved to look on nature's face,
Kindled into a richer grace

By youthful piety.

The youngling, too, by all carest
Must not be left behind the rest:

An undivided band,
Imbued with love, and heavenly grace,
They hasten to his holy place,

To honour God's command.

Oh, who would forfeit such a joy
As gilds the face of that sweet boy,

And smooths his grandsire's brow,
And beams in Rosa's ardent eyes,
And heaves in Mary's pensive sighs,

For all earth could bestow?

Yes, blessed Sabbath-morn, thy light
Is affluent in pure delight,
To those who love thy rest;
Beyond thy sun a heavenly ray
Adds moral lustre to the day,

And shines into the breast!

That lustre brightens dim despair,
And makes the fairest scene more fair,

And gilds the captive's chain;
Illumines sickness, freshens health,
Cheers poverty, enhances wealth,

And dulls the edge of pain.

There's not an earthly lot too low
To catch thy heart-consoling glow-

There's not a lot too fair
To borrow lustre from thy ray,
For those who keep thy holy day,

And love the house of prayer.

Then, reader, do not close the book, Before you take another look

At such a scene as this! Will such a bright example fail To make you Sabbath's morning hail,

And welcome Sabbath's bliss?

THE SOUTH OF FRANCE.

BY DR. TOGNO.

The approach to Bourdeaux is very imposing: its fine Pharos, its spacious squares, planted with trees and well built all around, its stupendous bridge, which Napoleon first projected, and for the building of which he gave five millions of francs from his own purse, are all objects that command admiration. This bridge is one of the boasts of Napoleon, although it has since been finished by a private company. Every thing that this extraordinary man has ever touched is impressed with that stamp of grandeur which no other sovereign will ever equal; and, if we remark any thing on the continent of Europe, that has that stamp, be sure that it has been planned or executed by this gigantic innovator, with the rapidity of thought; for physical obstacles were nothing to Napoleon. I am gratified to have an opportunity to mention this bridge, because a double purpose is involved in its construction; and the science displayed here may be useful to us in the construction of railroads. Passengers are admitted on the bridge, as on every other structure of the kind; but there are two galleries in the very body of it, one on each side, from which you look up and down the river, and which may be readily converted into passages for locomotive engines, without interfering with the horse carriages above. Such a bridge, I conceive, might be constructed to great advantage over the Schuylkill, above

the falls. What is still more remarkable in this city, and as worthy of our attention, is its almshouse, or hospital. Its construction is admirable; it is spacious, well ventilated, cleanly, quiet; and, in its internal economy, comfort and even grandeur, if grandeur can inhabit such a place, it surpasses every other establishment of the kind. The justly celebrated naval hospital of Plymouth, and that of Rochefort, are in many respects inferior to it; and when we compare it to our old almshouse, we perceive that, in that of Bourdeaux, genius and foresight pervade the most minute details, while in the latter, ignorance of the object of such an institution, is visible every where.

Had a medical board been consulted respecting the best mode of constructing such an establishment, and their advice followed, instead of simply that of an architect, and a few carpenters and bricklayers, we should not have now an immense pile of stone, brick and mortar, more hurtful in its results, than beneficial to its inmates. But, the opinion of the wise, (and I call the medical profession, at least in their own affairs, the truly enlightened class of mankind,) Cassandralike, is never listened to. But in the case of the new almshouse, on the other side of the Schuylkill, the Board of Physicians has been wisely consulted as to its structure, and, therefore, in this instance, we have reasons to congratulate ourselves. I regret, however, that for the sake of humanity the plan of this hospital was, perhaps, unknown to the architect and medical gentlemen consulted, and who designed and superintended the building of it. I had the good fortune to become acquainted with J. Berguer, the admirable and talented architect of this stupendous work. I complimented him about it, and he was so kind as to give me a set of all the plans of it, which I hope may prove useful to our country in some future undertaking of the kind.

The theatre of Bourdeaux, as a piece of architecture, is a subject of continual admiration to all strangers. It is the favourite theme of the natives, as the waterworks of Philadelphia are with us. Apropos of the theatre, I must inform you of my good fortune. While passing under the colonnades of this edifice, I remarked a heap of books, pellmell on the pavement, and a vender crying: “A six sous le volume! Allons, Messieurs, achetez!” I stopped to examine more closely the literary chaos, and, behold! here I found many valuable ancient medical works, for which I had vainly inquired at Paris from various booksellers! Seeing this, I made short work, and took possession of seventy volumes, well bound, at six sous each, for which I should very willingly have given a dollar. This is to me a princedom; and it did not fail to put me in a good humour with Bourdeaux, and with the individual who was pleased to die and leave me the books. My treasure is now wafted over Neptune's dominions. My journey from Bourdeaux to Toulouse was pleasant enough, and has presented to me many subjects for meditation: but I shall be prevented, by want of space and time, from communicating them at present. An anecdote, however, amused me so much on this route, that I cannot resist the temptation of narrating it. I was in the Coupé with a young American, my travelling companion, when, stopping on the road at Moissac, a gentleman, unknown to us, was handed in. For a Frenchman, he was at first very cold, and far from being addicted to dicacity. My companion, having spoken in English to me, aroused his curiosity at hearing the name of America mentioned. Then he was curious to understand who we could be, and grew animated in the conversation. He turned to naval subjects and commerce, and, of course, hearing me talk so wisely upon these topics, took me for

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