science confers on recreation?"

Let him answer

these questions, and thus extinguish the angry scruples of his mind.

Although we do not consider ourselves bound to explain every tittle of our conduct to every body, who is desirous of scrutinizing it; and although we cannot stoop to the caprice and whim-whams of every arrogant upstart, still, we are willing to go hand in hand with our readers, and sometimes even to condescend to notice the cavils, which may arise from the too nice investigation and suspicions of jealousy or malevolence. In attestation of this,

we pledge the infallible authority of our word; but, as Assertions are apt to be suspected, unless they are built on the solid foundations of Proof, we may just by the way, give an instance of this our laudable condescension. An observation had been made, that our magazine was of too serious and austere a cast. Instead of overlooking such a remark, with the stern and supercilious contempt of a self-elected autocrat, we weighed and pondered the subject with as much diligence as was ever displayed by a Dutch Stadtholder before entering on any "important business." Not more than five score pipes having been puffed away over the question, the solemn Conclave at length came to this sage conclusion; "That whereas it is a well-known and established fact, that 'omnibus non eadem placent;'--and as it is no less certain, that turtle soup does not allure the appetites of all men,-we the undersigned Proprietors, Conductors, and Ma

nagers of the said Periodical in debate, do, after mature deliberation, and consummate pondering, strongly give it as our opinion, that we should, by all manner and means dish up a variety of messes on our board, for the edification of the Serious,the marvel of the Incredulous,-the study of the Sedulous, and the risibility of the laughter-loving sons of Momus."

We are not then "self-opinionated crab trees," but rather inclining to the character of the roguish Frenchman, who, to use the words of a writer of the greatest authority and credit, "thinks of nothing, talks about anything, and laughs at every thing."

But, we will not detain you any longer with these remarks.-Confident of the good will of those, whose judgment is worth courting, we leave the "Underlings" to growl away in proud insignificance;-barking like the angry mastiff, at all who approach them; and who, when you fling a bone to their jaws, will instantly devour it and snarl again for another. We have entered upon a laborious occupation, but one from which we are not disposed to recede, and however obstacles and dangers may crowd upon our view we neither flinch nor

-tremble to survey

The growing labours of the lengthened way;

and as long as we meet with one solitary smile to

cheer us on our perilous voyage, we shall always adhere to the motto;

Nec piget, hand unquam, stulte elegisse videbor,
Permanet in voto mens mea firma suo.

ON THE RUINS OF KENILWORTH CASTLE.

-YES! here the might of regal pomp has dwelt! And here the glare of kingly pride has been! And here the monks of olden time have knelt, Where now the crumbling sweep of years is seen. Bright as the gaudiest plant of Summer's green, When fragrant dew drops paint its downy breast, The laughing revel, and the brilliant sheen

Of glowing majesty have raised their crest,

Within those turrets, where the owlet builds his

nest.

Around this sky, that hangs o'er yonder pile, The jocund breath of life and sunshine plays; And yet it seems to whisper, in its smile, One mourning sigh of grief for other days. So calm, so quick, so still the beaming rays Which gild the honours of its ivied bowers.Those lofty towers where erst the torrent blaze Of youth and beauty crowned the laughing hours, Are now the most unhallowed cells of midnight

powers.

Thou towering wreck of Leicester's feudal pride,
The blast of age has chilly swept by thee;

The night-bird's moan, the eaglet's shriek deride
Those roofs, which once awoke to mirth and glee :
-Silent, the songless voice of chivalry

Has changed its warrior harp for other wail;
And not a sound and not a note agree,

Save those of desolation on the gale,

As the last cry that echoes from a drowning sail.

The stranger's footsteps hurry o'er the soil, Where knighthood's casque has waved its heron plume;

While every arch presents the weary toil,

That mortals make to build themselves a tomb. A tomb,-for each amidst his shroud of gloom Speaks but of death, and all its shadowy train. One little hour some Joys may chance illume The sombre paintings of this life of pain; And then we fall and die, like cedars on the plain,

Adieu !---farewell!--I leave thy magic ground In musing sorrow o'er the times gone by ;Hushed is the tale of love-the lute's soft sound, Which oft to castle-moat had lent their sigh; Gone is the breathless air of melody,

Which then was rife in Lady's rosy bower; And not one throbbing pulse pervades on high, Save deep reflection's ever soothing power, Which spreads its tinge of glory on each gentle

flower.

D. S. L.

THE SOLDIER'S DEATH.

'Tis done! beneath the foeman's spear
A warrior heart is bleeding;
Proudly he looks from glory's bier,
To where his soul is speeding.

No father gazes on thee now,
Or in his arms may press thee,
With aged hand to wipe thy brow,
And e'en in death to bless thee.

The friend who loved, when friendship blest
The laurels that enwreath him,
Perhaps now treads that gory breast,
Nor thinks on him beneath him.

He dies!-the warrior's resting bed
Is on the field of glory,
Without a stone to mark the dead,

Or tell a stranger's story!

M.

DR. MILNER.

Quis mihi tribuat, ut scribantur sermones mei? quis mihi det ut exarenter in libro stylo ferreo, et plumbi lamina, vel celte sculpantur in silice ? JOB, C. xix,

IN considering the traits of each individual character, that has commanded our admiration or