"Tis not the good, the wise, the brave,
That surest shine or brightest rise,
The feather sports upon the wave,

The pearl in ocean's cavern lies.
Each lesser star that studs the sphere,
Sparkles with undiminished light;

Dark and eclipsed alone appear

The Lord of Day, the Queen of Night.

SEQUEL TO THE BUTTERFLY'S BALL.

[The following beautiful lines are said to have been written by a young lady of Edinburgh, of fourteen years of age.]

O! ye who so lately were blithsome and gay,
At the Butterfly's banquet carousing away,
Your feasts and your revels of pleasure are fled,
For the soul of the banquet--the Butterfly's dead!

No longer the Flies and the Emmets advance,

To join with their friends in the Grasshopper's dance:
For see her thin form o'er the favourite bend,

And the Grasshopper mourns for the loss of her friend!

And hark to the funeral dirge of the Bee,

And the Beetle who follows, as mournful as he!
And see where so mournful the green rushes wave,
The Mole is preparing the Butterfly's grave!

The Dormouse attended, but cold and forlorn,
And the Gnat slowly winded his shrill little horn,
And the Moth, who was grieved at the loss of a sister,
Bent over the body, and silently kissed her!

The corse was embalmed at the set of the sun,
And included in case which the Silk-worm had spun!
By the help of the Hornet the coffin was laid
On a bier, out of myrtle and jessamine made.

In weepers and scarfs came the Butterflies all,
And six of the number supported the pall:
And the Spider came there in his mourning so black,
But the fire of the Glow-worm soon frighten'd him back

The Grub left his nutshell to join the sad throng,
And slowly led with him the Book-worm along,
Who wept his poor neighbour's unfortunate doom,
And wrote these few lines to be placed on her tomb.

ЕРІТАРН.

At this solemn spot, where the green rushes wave,
Here sadly we bent o'er the Butterfly's grave,
'Twas here we to beauty our obsequies paid,

And hallowed the mound which her ashes had made.

And here shall the daisy and violet blow,

And the lily discover her bosom of snow,
While under the leaf in the ev'nings of spring,

Still mourning her friend shall the Grasshopper sing.

THE FRENCH PEASANT.

When things are done, and past recalling,
'Tis folly then to fret and cry,
Prop up a rotten house that's falling,
But when it's down, e'en let it lie.

O, patience, patience, thou'rt a jewel,
And like all jewels hard to find,
'Mongst all the various men you see,
Examine every mother's son,
You'll find they all in this agree,

To make ten troubles out of one.
When passions rage, they heap on fuel,
And give their reason to the wind.

Hark, don't you hear the general cry,

Whose troubles ever equall'd mine,

How readily each stander-by

Replies, with captious echo, " mine."
Sure from our clime this discord springs,
Heaven's choicest blessings we abuse,
And every Englishman alive,

Whether Duke, Lord, Esquire or Gent,
Claims as his just prerogative

Ease, liberty, and discontent.

A Frenchman often starves and sings
With cheerfulness and wooden shoes.

A Peasant of the true French breed,
Was driving in a narrow road

A cart with but one sorry steed,

And fill'd with onions, savoury load!
Careless he trudg'd along before,
Singing a Gascon roundelay-
Hard by there ran a whimpering brook,

The road ran shelving towards the brim,

The spiteful wind th' advantage took,

The wheel flies up, the onions swim→→→

The Peasant saw his favourite store
At one rude blast all puff'd away.

How would an English clown have sworn,
To hear them plump, and see them roll,

Have curs'd the hour that he was born,
And for an onion damn'd his soul!

Our Frenchman acted quite as well:

He stopp'd, and hardly stopp'd, his song; First rais'd his Bidet from his swoon,

Then stood a little while to view His onions bobbing up and down:

At last he, shrugging, cried " Parbleu,

Il ne manque ici que de sel,

Pour faire de potage excellent."

WOMAN.

Woman, dear woman, in whose name,
Wife, sister, mother, meet;
Thine is the heart, by earliest claim,
And thine its latest beat.

In thee the angel virtues shine,
An angel form to thee is giv'n,

Then be an angel's office thine,
And lead the soul to heav'n.

From thee we draw our infant strength,
Thou art our childhood's friend;
And when the man unfolds at length,
On thee his hopes depend.

For round the heart thy pow'r hast spun,
A thousand dear mysterious ties:
Then take the heart thy charms have won,
And purse it for the skies.

LITERARY INTELLIGENCE.

J.E.HALL, Esquire, Professor of Rhetoric and Belles Lettres in the University of Maryland, is preparing for the press a treatise on " The office and authority of a Justice of the Peace, arising under the acts of the Congress of the United States, the Legislature of the State of Maryland, and the Common Law. Illustrated by a variety of precedents adapted to those Laws."

J.CUSHING, of Baltimore, has in the press a translation of Dr. J. Larrey's Memoirs of Military Surgery, and of the Campaigns of the French armies in Asia and Europe, from the year 1791 to 1812. By RICHARD W. HALL, M. D. professor of Midwifery in the University of Maryland. From the second Paris edit. In two vols. large 8vo.

Lately published, HALL'S DISTILLER, containing, 1. Full and practical directions for making and distilling all kinds of grain, and imitating Holland gin and Irish whiskey. 2. A notice of the different kinds of stills in use in the United States, and of the Scotch stills, which may be run off 480 times in 24 hours. 3. A treatise on fermentation, containing the latest discoveries on the subject. 4. Directions for making yest, and preserving it sweet for any length of time. 5. The Rev. Mr. Allison's process of rectification, with improvements, and mode of imitating French brandy, &c. 6. Instructions for making all kinds of cordials, compound waters, &c. also for making cider, beer, and various kinds of wines, &c. &c. &c. Adapted to the use of farmers as well as distillers. By Harrison Hall.

On this last work, the following encomium is passed by Professor Cooper, in his Emporium of Arts and Sciences. "If a few pages of chymical disquisition were omitted, and some practical directions given on the use of the hydrometer, this would be the best book I have seen on the subject. Indeed, I consider it such as it is. It supersedes a great deal of what I had to say on this manufacture, but I can make some additions when the proper time comes."

THE WESTERN GLEANER.-We have just received the first number of a scientific and literary work, entitled The Western Gleaner, published monthly at Pittsburgh, and edited by C. F. Aigster, M. D. It is with great pleasure that we hail this proof of the advancement of science and learning in this interesting portion of the union. The prospectus of the editor breathes the liberal and truly national spirit that should govern every work of the kind; the contents of his first number are highly satisfactory, and if he steadfastly adheres to the impartial plan he has laid down, and executes it with the ability of which he has already given tokens, it cannot fail to redound to his own credit, and the advantage of the Western Country.

IN PRESS-By Howe and Deforest, of New-Haven, The Elements of Algebra, being the first part of an introduction to the study of the Mathematics, adapted to the course of instruction in Yale College. By Jeremiah Day, Professor of Mathematics and Natural Philosophy in Yale College.