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house gives present comfort, and may, by future sale, aid in animating to exertion, and perhaps in restoring health. But quarter-day comes; and in the depth of an uncommonly hard winter, a harder, and a colder heart, sends its brutal and drunken ministers, armed by resistless authority, to tear away the curtain from the bed of the sick sufferer, and the blanket from the shivering victim of penury and neglect. This last blow is suspended but till the morrow; and the anxious mother lies, wakeful and heart-broken, watched by one of her children, who is preserved by health and inexperienced youth from the cares which waste her parent. In the mean time, revelling in sensuality, and overwhelmed by the good gifts of nature and of fortune, a man, who all his life seems to have been struggling to mar the good lavishly cast upon him, sallies out from every comfort of warmth and enjoyment, and is saved from death by the hospitable poverty of the widow's comfortless dwelling. In return, a portion of his superfluity is applied for her relief; the impending blow which would have probably destroyed the prostrate sufferer is warded off; and returning hope and health make the catastrophe of this “ romance of real life” as cheerful as it threatened to be gloomy and heart-rending.

After giving a five dollar note to the child who guided me to him, and making some other presents to members of the family, Mr. Cooke agreed to go to Bryden's in a sleigh, which I had previously sent for. He rose from his chair ; his step was not steady, and some of the crowd offered to assist him ; but he put them by with his hand, in a style of courtly contempt." He accepted my arm, but before we reached the door, stopped to wipe his face, and having lost the piece of dirty linen he had before used, he made inquiry for his handkerchief-it was not to be found; and I, fearing a change in his determination, and somewhat impatient of my own situation, offered him a white handkerchief, which I had put in my pocket but a few mintues before receiving his note, and which, after seeing the filthy rag he had been using, and displaying on his knee before the fire, I did not hesitate to present to him; but he put it aside with a most princely motion, saying, “ A gentleman cannot accept a handkerchief that has been used."

POETRY,

SOLILOQUY OF AN OLD BACHELOR, ON THE ANNIVERSARY

OF HIS BIRTH-DAY.

[From the Gentleman's Magazine.]

LET youthful Lovers fondly greet

With song and dance their natal day,
Let them in jovial circles meet,
And laugh the lightsome hours away;

But mine, alas!

Must sadly pass,
With no kind gratulations blest ;
Mine but excites the silent tear,
That now another lonely year

Hath followed all the rest.
And whither, whither are they flown?

What traces have they left behind ?
What transports can I call my own?
What social bosom can I find ?

I view the past,

And stand aghast;
How much, alas! of life's short span !
And Memory cries, as thus I gaze,
“ Where are the friends of former days,

Thou solitary man!”
Some, blest of heaven, and timely wise,

Are linked in Hymen's silken bands ;-
Have learnt Heaven's last, best gift to prize,
And joined with her’s their willing hands :

With fond embrace
Each grief they chase,
Whatever ill their steps betide ;
And band in hand they sweetly stray
Through life's perplexed and thorny way,

With truest love their guide.
Some seek their Country's bannered plain,

And fearless dare the hostile fray;
And some, the growing love of gain
Hath lured to foreign lands away;

And some, indeed,

Whose names I read
Engraved on many a mossy stone,
Were early numbered with the dead:
Thus all their different ways have sped,

And left me here, alone!

They say, that my unfeeling breast

Ne'er felt love's pleasing, anxious smart; Was ne'er with doubts and fears opprest, Nor sighed to win a woman's heart :

And let them say

Whate'er they may,
I heed not censure now, nor praise :
I could not ask a simple maid
To seek with me the lowly shade;-

I hoped for brighter days.
Yes, I have felt that hallowed flame

Which burns with constant, chaste desire ; 1, too, have cherished long a name That set my youthful breast on fire ;

But Hope's swert smiles,

And witching wiles,
Beguiled my heart of every pain ;
And I have slept in her soft bowers,
Till now, of life's last lingering hours

How few, alas, remain !
Ah! now her fairy reign is past,

For youth's warm raptures now are o'er;
Those visions all, too bright to last,
Of love and joy, can charm no more !

Some little tors,

Some puny jovs,
To wear life's listless calm away;
Then near some old, neglected stone,
Unwept, unnoticed, and unknown,

I yield the worm its prey.
Come, then, whatever ills await,

Though age sits hoary on my brow,
I care not for the frownis of fate!
And, POVERTY! I scorn thee now:

I shall not see,

Obscured by thce,
T'air, lovely woman's charms decay!
llave I no tie to keep me here?
Not one. Why, then, without a tear,

I yield the worin its prey.

THE VISIONARY.

By W. R. Spencer.

WHEN midnight o'er the moonless skies

Her pall of transient death has spread, When mortals sleep, when spectres rise,

And nought is wakeful but the dead ! No bloodless shape my way pursues,

No sheeted ghost my couch annoys, Visions more sad my fancy views, Visions of long departed joys !

The shade of youthful hope is there,

That lingered long, and latest died;
Ambition all dissolved to air,

With phantom honours at her side.
What empty shadows glimmer nigh!

They once were friendship, truth, and love!
Oh, die to thought, to memory die,

Since lifeless to my heart ye prove!

ON MODERATION IN OUR PLEASURES.

By Abou Alcassim Eon Tabataba.

“ Tabataba deduced his pedigree from Ali Ben Abou Taleb, and Fatima, the daughter of Muhammed.

“ He was born at Ispahan, but passed the principal part of his life in Egypt, where he was appointed chief of the sheriffs, i.e. the descendants of the prophet, a dignity held in the highest veneration by every Mussulman. He died in the year of the Hejira 418, with the reputation of being one of the most excellent poets of his time.”

HOW oft does passion's grasp destroy

The pleasure that it strives to gain;
How soon the thoughtless course of joy

Is doomed to terminate in pain.
When prudence would thy steps delay,

She but restrains to make thee blest ;
Whate'er from joy she lops away,

But heightens and secures the rest.
Wouldst thou a trembling flame expand,

That hastens in the lamp to die;
With careful touch, with sparing hand,

The feeding stream of life supply.
But if thy flask profusely sheds

A rushing torrent o'er the blaze,
Swift round the sinking flame it spreads,

And kills the fire it fain would raise..

TO READERS.

WE had hoped to have accompanied the likeness of Commodore Decatur with a biographical article, but did not receive the necessary particulars in time. It shall be furnished as soon as possible.

We have received several communications in prose and verse, but have been induced, from various reasons, to decline inserting them. Some, though well written, are on trite and worn out subjects, or have been anticipated by selected articles which have appeared in former numbers. Others do not come within the plan of this work. It is hoped this general excuse will be sufficient ; and that correspondents will not consider the omission of their writings as a censure on their merits.

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