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ventures to Norah, who still seemed to have her doubts on the subject. It was agreed between them that early on the following morning the search should be commenced, but not till Philip had convinced his wife that the sycamore-tree would not be injured. Accordingly they arose at the dawn of day-Philip commenced making an excavation on the side towards the south, as there appeared to be fewer stones or rocky substances on that side, while Norah watched the road, that she might give her husband notice of the approach of strangers whose curiosity might be awakened by seeing him thus engaged. Their cabin was remote from any other habitation, so that he worked long undisturbed. At length, after digging to the depth of about four feet, his spade struck against some hard substance, the only opposition it had hitherto encountered—this gave fresh courage 10 his hopes, and stronger nerve to his arm. He soon espied an iron vessel, which, on removing from its hiding place, proved to be a cooking utensil much rusted ; he brought it up, and forcing the massive covering from it, fell on his knees-which Norah observing, immediately joined him. Imagine the joy of these poor but worthy people, when they found it contained an immense treasure- :-three or four bars of gold, a quantity of precious diamonds, and gold specie in guineas and half guineas-some silver medals and ancient coins. They took the vessel and concealed it beneath the foor of the cabin-their children, being yet asleep, knew nothing of it, and thus they had it effectually in their power to keep their wealth a secret. One of the first dispositions Philip made of part of it, was a handsome present io Mrs. Macalpin, who never knew where it came from, though her children learned it afterward. They pursued their usual avocations, only adding a cow to their establishment, and then another; and when the old white nag died, they purchased another and a younger animal ; and shortly after added a jaunting car to the horse--and so on, by degrees, while no one suspected them of rising in the world by any other means than that of their own industry. Their children were educated, and it is a well-known and undisputed fact, that one of the largest and most elegant streets in the town of Galway was built by the descendants of the virtuous and pious Philip and Norah Alanson.

Years after they had discovered this treasure, Norah said

one day to Phllip, was it not strange that the angel did not warn you where the treasure was buried, instead of sending you to Lough Corrib for information ?"

"Not at all,” replied Philip; " I learned from that very circumstance a lesson which should be impressed upon the minds of all; it is this : that we have no right to expect favours or fortune, unless we take pains to seek them, and that reward is consequent upon patience and perseverance."

We perfectly agree in opinion with Philip, and will add that of one more, whose authority is greater than his ; we mean the delightful Goldsmith, who says, “ Let us be but steady and inflexible in the path of virtue and industry, and we shall be eventually both fortunate and happy."




The hour which gives thee birth, and scents thy breath,

Consigns thy parent to the arms of Death! While thou, the beautiful, with ruddy cheek,

With polished brow, 'midst cheerful song and hymn, Mingled with storms that shake the mountains bleak,

That rend the skies, already cold and dim,

Art welcomed like a winged cherubim
That brings some message from th' Eternal spheres,

And while the full goblet sparkles to the brim
Unveil some future joy, unmixed with tears,
Or ought that rudely fills the languid mind with fears.
The prince and peasant equally salute

Thy lovely presence, and the feast prepare;
Music is heard--the harp, the breathing flute,

And softest melody, with wisdom rare,

Unite their prowess to hallow one so fair; Yet could the secrets of thy breast be known,

How many would put on the brow of care ! The king would start half-frenzied from his throne ! The brightest eyes would weep, and crowds begin to moura ! For ah! spite of thy loveliness and youth

Spite of those charms which we so much admire, The thoughtful Muses must unfold the truth

The truth so fraught with woes and evils dire, That did the gods themselves our verse inspire We could not tell their numbers, or explain

Their nature; for so linked with wild desire Is every pang we feel-grief, death, and pain, The loss of kindred hearts, that ne'er will throb again!

Thy promises are flattering, we confess,

And many sanguine minds thy praises sing : Those dream of bliss, and perfect happiness,

And all the beauties wbich thou deign'st to bring

Unclouded skies, gay visions, blooming Spring Adorned with flowers, love that nought destroys,

And groves that daily with rejoicings ring, Where I'ruth celestial sits, and nought annoys The sacred seats of Hope, and her immortal joys.

Vain expectations ! how they fade away!

A few months pass, and man begins to see The roses drooping with a swift decay,

And leaves, once glorious, whirled from ev'ry tree!

Thine age comes on-thy beauty, and thy glee, Thy reign of light and darkness all are o'er;

And though he hailed thee as a deity Whose birth would bring him great and ample store, Yet will the sufferer sigb, nor wish to see thee more!

But thy career's an emblem of our state

So moralists contend ; and if 'tis so, Why should we be ambitious to be great,

As though the wealthy were exempt from woe

And all those perils poorer mortals know?
But soch the frailty of man's rude breast,

Ev'n where the purest truths and virtues glow,
That riches, coronets, the lofty crest,
Are reckoned still to be the beautiful and best !

The rich ! let's scan their private hours, and peep

Into their chambers at the midnight hour, When Disappointment his fell vigils keep, And pomp has lost its fascinating power,

Then shall we see distinguished foreheads lour,
And the bright flashes of the scornful eye

Expire amidst an agonizing shower
Of burning tears; while a distracted sigh
Escapes for those that in the drear sepulchre lie.
For what distinction is there in the grave ?

Do gorged worms banquet with more delight
On those who once were mighty, rich, and brave,

That dressed in scarlet robes and jewels bright,

And either by good fortune, or birthright,
Romained superior to the common crowd

Of meagre wretches that annoy our sight?
Oh no! the dusty earth heeds not the proud,
Nor homage pay to those that wear a costly shroud!

Greatness may welcome in the infant year,

And princely bosoms count of happy days With sunny cheeks, " unsullied with a tear;"

Bat Providence the mighty balance sways,

And equally distributes, and displays His boundless love and attributes to all,

That all may have some cause for prayer and praise ; And thus the rich and poor, the great and small, By tarns know joy and grief-by turns they rise and fall! But come, my friends, let not the mournful past

Or the uncertain future give us pain ; Whatever is is right !”+ hold that but fast

And brighter views may cheer our path again,

And all the dark and intricate explain. The young year enters ! may his aspect tell

Of better times; and though the wind and rain, And creeping torrents rush through wood and dell, Greet him with song, and bid th’espiring year farewell!

+ Pope.

. Young

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A TALE OF TRUE LOVE. Jane Harwood was the youngest, and unquestionably the prettiest of three sisters, who all had considerable pretenisions to beauty, A peculiar charm, of a truly “feminine character, presided over her features, and more especially in her dark eyes,

That seemed to love whate'er they looked upon." We were cousins ; we might have been connected by a nearer tie, but somehow, Jane only considered me as a brother; and I almost think now, that my affection for her was merely fraternal—but I did not ibink so then. At the period to which I am alluding, Jane was almost eighteen. Business had detained me for several months at Edinburgh, and I knew nothing of what was passing in London, except through the medium of the post; and everybody knows how little information an occasional letter affords. My surprise therefore will be conjectured, when, on calling at my Aunt Harwood's, the morning after my return to London, I learned that Jane was just setting off on a continental tour. Her mother informed me that Aunt Mary was going to travel on the Continent, and had kindly requested Jane to accompany her.” I suppose Jane is delighted at the invitation.”

Why do,” replied my Aunt, “I can't say she is; she is not at all in the spirits you imagine.”

In a few minutes Aunt Mary's carriage drove to the door, (the only one, hy the way, in the family,) and after a few more minutes had elapsed, occupied by my Aunt Mary's expressions of pleasure at seeing me, and my regrets at our being so soon to separate, poor Jane entered the apart

She indeed did not appear in the spirits I had imagined ; her face was pale, her air dejected, and her eyes bore the evident testimony of much weeping. For an instant, a smile played on her beautiful features, as I sprang to salute her; but it was merely for an instant, and then she looked more like an exile about to take a last farewell of her kindred, than a young and beautiful girl just commencing a tour of pleasure. From the observations I made, I was perfectly convinced that my two aunts were as

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