curtain of separation shall be drawing, my last breath will, 1 trust, expire in a prayer for the temporal and eternal felicity of those who have not only endeavored to gild the evening of my days with unclouded serenity, but extended their desires to my happiness hereafter, in a brighter world.

9... Observe good faith and justice towards all nations; cultivate peace and harmony with all. Religion and morality enjoin this conduct; and can it be that good policy does not equally enjoin it? Can it be that Providence has not connected the permanent felicity of a nation with its virtue? The experi ment, at least, is recommended by every sentiment which ennobles human nature.

10. . . Conscious integrity has been my unceasing support; and, while it gave me confidence in the measures I pursued, the belief of it, by acquiring to me the confidence of my fellow-citizens, insured the success which those measures have had. This consciousness will accompany me in my retirement. Without it,

public applause could be viewed only as a proof of public error, and felt as the upbraiding of personal demerit.

'LXI. THE BITTER GOURD.

for wise

1. LOKMAN THE WISE (therefore the good
Is but sage good, seeing with final eyes)
Was slave once to a lord, jealous though kind,
Who, piqued sometimes at the man's master mind,
Gave him, one day, to see how he would treat
So strange a grace, a bitter gourder to eat.

2. With simplest reverence, and no surprise,
The sage received what stretched the donor's eyes:
And, piece by piece, as though it had been food
To feast and gloat on, every morsel chewed:
And so stood eating, with his patient beard,
Till all the nauseous flavor disappeared.

3. Vexed and confounded, and disposed to find

Some ground of scorn on which to ease his mind,

"Lokman!" exclaimed the master, in Heaven's name,

How can a slave himself become so tame?
Have all my favors been bestowed amiss?

Or could not brains like thine have saved thee this?

--

4. Calmly stood Lokman still, as Duty stands,
"Have I received," he answered, "at thy hands
Favors so sweet they went to my heart's root,
And could I not accept one bitter fruit?"
5. "O! Lokman," said his lord (and, as he spoke,
For very love his words in softness broke),
"Take but this favor yet: be slave no more;
Be, as thou art, my friend and counsellor ;
O! be; nor let me quit thee, self-abhorred;
'Tis I that am the slave, and thou the lord! "

LXII.

HUNT.

JAFFARE AN EASTERN TRADITION. 1. JAFFAR', the Bar'mec-ide, the good vizier,E

EI

The poor man's hope, the friend without a peer,
Jaffar' was dead, slain by a doom unjust!
And guilty Ha'roun, sullen with mistrust
Of what the good and e'en the bad might say,
Ordained that no man living, from that day,
Should dare to speak his name, on pain of death:
All Araby and Persia held their breath.

2. All but the brave Mondeer. He, proud to show
How far for love a grateful soul could go,
And facing death for very scorn and grief
(For his great heart wanted a great relief),
Stood forth in Bagdad daily in the square,
Where once had stood a happy house; and there
Harangued the tremblers at the scimitar

On all they owed to the divine Jaffar'.

The man

3. "Bring me the man!" the caliph cried. Was brought, was gazed upon. The mutes began To bind his arms. Welcome, brave cords!" cried he; "From bonds far worse Jaffar delivered me;

66

From wants, from shames, from loveless household fears;
Made a man's eyes friends with delicious tears;

Restored me, loved me, put me on a par

With his great self. How can I

4. Haroun, who felt that on a soul like this
The mightiest vengeance could but fall amiss,
Now deigned to smile, as one great lord of fate
Might smile upon another half as great,

And said: "Let worth grow frenzied, if it will;
The caliph's judgment shall be master still.

Go; and, since gifts thus move thee, take this gem,
The richest in the Tartar's diadem,

And hold the giver as thou decmest fit."

5. "Gifts!" cried the friend. He took; and, holding it High toward the heaven, as though to meet his star, Exclaimed, "This, too, I owe to thee, Jaffar'!"

HUNT

A BOAT RACE, AND WRECK OF A BOAT.

1. ONE gusty day, now stormy and now still,
I stood apart upon the western hill,
And saw a race at sea: a gun was heard,
And two contending boats at length appeared: 183
Equal a while; then one was left behind,
And for a moment had her chance resigned,
When, in that moment, up a sail they drew-
Not used before their rivals to pursue.

2.

Strong was the gale! in hurry now there came

Men from the town, their thoughts, their fears, the same;

And women, too! affrighted maids and wives,

All deeply feeling for their sailors' lives.

The strife continued: in a glass we saw
The desperate efforts, and we stood in awe,
When the last boat shot suddenly before,
Then filled and sank, and could be seen no more!

3.

4.

5.

Then were there piercing shrieks — a frantic flight -
All hurried-all in tumult and affright!

A gathering crowd from different streets drew near·
All ask, all answer none attend, none hear!
One boat is safe; and, see! she backs her sail
To save the sinking. - Will her aid avail ?

O! how impatient on the sands we tread, -
The wild winds roaring o'er the uncovered head
Of many a woman, who, with frantic air,
Repels each comforter, and will despair.
They know not who in either boat is gone,
But think the father, husband, lover, one.

And who is she apart? She dares not come
To join the crowd, yet cannot rest at home:
With what strong interest looks she at the waves,
Meeting and clashing o'er the seamen's graves!
'Tis a poor girl betrothed -a few hours more,
And he will be a corpse upon the shore!

1. WE one day descried some shapeless object drifting at a distance. At sea, everything that breaks the monotony of the surrounding expanse attracts attention. It proved to be the mast of a ship that must have been completely wrecked; for there were the remains of handkerchiefs, by which some of the crew had fastened themselves to this spar, to prevent their being washed off by the waves. There was no trace by which the name of the ship could be ascertained. The wreck had evidently drifted about for many months; clusters of shell-fish had fastened about it, and long sea-weeds flaunted at its sides.

2. But where, thought I, is the crew? Their struggle has long been over; they have gone down amidst the roar of the tempest; their bōnes lie whitening among the caverns of the deep. Silence, oblivion, like the waves, have closed over them, and no one can tell the story of their end. What sighs have been wafted after that ship! what prayers offered up at the

deserted fireside of home! How often has the mistress, the wife, the mother, pored over the daily news, to catch some casual intelligence of this rover of the deep! How has expectation darkened into anxiety, anxiety into dread, and dread into despair! Alas! not one memento may ever return for love to cherish. All that may ever be known is, that she sailed from her port," and was never heard of more."

3. The sight of this wreck, as usual, gave rise to many dismal anecdotes. This was particularly the case in the evening, when the weather, which had hitherto been fair, began to look wild and threatening, and gave indications of one of those sudden storms that will sometimes break in upon the serenity of a summer voyage. As we sat in the cabin, round the dull light of a lamp, that made the gloom more ghastly, every one had his tale of shipwreck and disaster. I was particularly struck with a short one related by the captain.

ΕΙ

4. "As I was once sailing," said he, "in a fine, stout ship, across the banks of Newfoundland, one of those heavy fogs which prevail in those parts rendered it impossible for us to see far ahead, even in the day-time; but at night the weather was so thick that we could not distinguish any object at twice the length of the ship. I kept lights at the mast-head, and a constant watch forward to look out for fishing-smacks, which are accustomed to lie at anchor on the banks.

5. "The wind was blowing a smacking breeze, and we were going at a great rate through the water. Suddenly the watch gave the alarm of 'A sail ahead!' It was scarcely uttered before we were upon her. She was a small schooner, at anchor, with her broadside towards us. The crew were all asleep, and had neglected to hoist a light. We struck her just amidships. The force, the size and weight, of our vessel, bore her down below the waves; wc passed over her, and were hurried on our

course.

6. "As the crashing wreck was sinking beneath us, I had a glimpse of two or three half-naked wretches, rushing from her cabin; they just started from their beds to be swallowed shrieking by the waves. I heard their drowning cry mingling with