BALLAD. Ma petite ne m'oubliez pas. Tho' a twelvemonth has passed, I am still, love, For thy name thro' my heart sends a thrill, love, Thou art yet to my bosom as dear, love, They said that another would win, love, And those others I've seen have not woke, love, Thus the vow that I vow'd is not broke, love, ANGLO TASMANIAN. APRIL FOOLS. We are all April fools.-This is a startling dogma, gentle reader, but it is not the less true, and if you pause for a moment, and consider my assertion, its truth will be apparent. The year is in its youth, and the most of us in our life's April, when our sorrows are but passing clouds, which serve only to make our joys the more brilliant and delightful. Look forward to a future, undimmed by the most filmy vapour, and when we do reach that El Dorado of the heart, and discover the agony of disappointment, we are doomed to encounter, how frequently are we compelled to own ourselves April fools. The soldier seeks for "reputation at the cannon's mouth," he braves danger for the sake of a renown, whose well-chosen emblem is a laurel, an evergreen certainly, but bearing poison within its leaves, and the man of a thousand battles at some time will sadly acknowledge the insufficiency of his reward, and be obliged to confess himself an April fool. The sailor, too,-he, who in his tall ship, rides over, and defies the mighty and tremendous sea; who laughs at the billows as they roll over his bulwarks, or bathe his bowsprit in their crested foam; who spurns them as unworthy his talents and spirit, when lulled into calm and peacefulness, like a glassy mirror spread around his vessel, and longs for the tempest to wake them into action; he, when the overwhelming waves are about to sink his ship, which is even then splitting upon some unseen rock, will, indeed, be tempted to own himself an April fool. And the Poet, who lives in a world of his own creation, who loves the communion and companionship of his own spirit, better than the thoughtless, boisterous joviality of society; who breathes an atmosphere of gentle imaginings, and adores nature in all her forms of light and shade; if we could look into the recesses of his heart, and behold there the bitterness, which, coiled like a serpent around it, he endures-from the taunts of envy-the deprivationsthe miseries of poverty; if we gazed on him, wasting his midnight oil in the pursuit of knowledge, and finding the world, however much it might admire his productions, cold and chill towards himself-if we gazed on him, I say, thus sinking uncared for, unfriended, into the grave, should we not exclaim the Poet to be an April fool? Nor can Woman, loveliness personified, escape; how often does she give her unsuspecting heart away, and pour her whole soul out in affection for some worthless image of man; wreathing her blossoming hopes around this shrine of her idolatry, to find them wither one by one, till, wearied by disappointments, and heartbroken at his faithlessness, she pines away into an early tombwhile, perchance, some stranger who hears her story, graves upon the marble record " An April fool." 66 Thus could we go on through the whole pursuits of life,-all the businesses, the pleasures of existence, bring so little sufficiency to the heart, and indeed serve only to disgust and mortify the spirit, that the world, with its every enjoyment, may be termed the region, the kingdom of folly, while its inhabitants may all be counted as April fools. *K* FROM A DRAMATIC FRAGMENT, Written at the age of 16. There was a time, Alfreda ! when the thorn That had pang'd e'en thy Dog, my heart had felt ; And but one drop, a solitary drop, That to my flasket hung-to thee, to thee, With blessings and a welcome I'd have handed it! Alfreda know'st thou not why that times past→→ H. O'N. M. R. ON MODESTY. An answer to a gay young Friend, who proposed the following question. Pray, what's modesty like ?"-like the Persian rose, "Tis just like the hue of a patriot's gore, AN ADVENTURE WITH THE BUSHRANGERS. "Come tell me thine adventure; it shall be A joy to think of, in long winter nights, When stormy winds shall make our lullaby."-SOUTHEY. I need not tell the reader-that is, the Colonial reader, that, but a very few years ago, bushranging was in free and full operation. The bold and desperate characters of those who had "taken to the bush," their reckless and most audacious extortions, and the systematic manner in which many of their depredations were carried on, rendered them a complete pest to the country settler,-his property-nay, his very life, being in constant jeopardy and peril from a rencontre with these desperadoes. Some, of course, were more dreaded than others; and one leader of a band of bushrangers was so conscientious and methodical a gentleman, that, whenever he had cause to suspect the fidelity of any member of his gang, he coolly told him his suspicions-gave him ten minutes to make his peace with Heaven, and then, very quietly, but very certainly, shot him dead on the spot! These occasions of wilful and deliberate murder, were neither L rare nor few. The large rewards offered by the Government, proved too tempting to men, who having lost all sense of moral rectitude, became slaves to the highest bidder. Besides, what reliance could be placed upon some of the most abandoned-the most wicked of mankind? Hunted about like vermin, with a price set on their head-living wretchedly and precariously on plundertoo often stained with blood-their's was indeed, a most miserable existence. Yet were there some 66 gay bold villains" amongst them; men, whose physical attributes might have been rendered available to the best and most useful purposes, had not their moral -or, rather immoral propensities, poisoned the source of all good, and made them what they were, daring and destroying demons. I came into the Colony at the time when bushranging was in full vigour, and the grant which I obtained from the Government, happened to be situated in the very centre of the district, where Michael Howe's gang delighted most especially to play its pranks. Of this very comfortable accommodation, I was duly apprized, and the surveyor, who marked out my land, was, I well remember, particularly eloquent in his description of the diabolical achievements of my depredating neighbours. But this to me, was then, rather a recommendation than otherwise. At home, I was noted for a certain bold, dare-devil disposition, that sought danger, rather than shunned it; and, really, I looked forward with a degree of interest, to a collision with the bushrangers. Not that I wished to capture or convert them; but I wanted some strong excitement to break the horrible monotony of a distant settler's mode of life. I had good interest with the Government, and found no difficulty in obtaining as much assistance as I required, in the way of assigned servants; and I proceeded with all speed to erect a habitable domicile. I selected as pleasant a spot as I could find; and having a small, but clear rivulet in front-with a scrubby hill in the rear, my bush hut was erected, in a situation as advantageous as any I could find. Is was comfortably furnished, and contained four moderately sized rooms. My brother, who accompanied me to the Colony, was truly a harum-scarum fellow. Ever forward in every frolic-bold, courageous, disinterested, and generous to a fault, he constituted a character, which every one must love, and even admire. Frank was, indeed, a fine and noble fellow, and there are those now here, men of no small rank and consideration, who will not easily forget his worth, nor fail to remember with delight his many manly virtues. What I should have done without him, I know not. By his cheerfulness he encouraged by his wit he enlivened me,-and the weary dull and dreary hours of the solitary bushmen were deprived of half their weariness, by Frank's fun and unceasing merriment. Our nearest neighbour was a wealthy settler, named Tomlinson; a man originally, I am sure, of a generous and warm disposition, but whose temper had been sadly soured by misfortune. He was a magistrate-extremely well-informed upon all subjects of general interest, and had evidently mingled much and freely in the busy world; what a deep sarcastic humour characterized his usual manner and conversation. He was alone in the world; without father or mother, or brother or sister-without wife or child; he stood singular and alone, like a scathed gum tree in the forest, and this his isolated and solitary condition, was a constant source of misery to him. I have seen him, often watching my brother and myself, as we toiled on our land, gazing on us with an expression of bitter discontent, not quite unmixed with envy. When I spoke to him on the subject, and jeered him on his sour, morose looks, he would reply-" It is well for you to talk-happy in a brother's love and companionship, while I have not a single soul that loves. -that even cares for me!" 66 Nay, Mr. Tomlinson," I would reply, "Your servants-your dependents.-and they are numerous-adore and love you, and why should you repine? Your land is well cleared, and you have abundant and increasing resources. While we have every thing to do, and nothing, at present, coming in." He would smile languidly, and reply, "You are like the rest of the people here. All your thoughts bent upon gain. Well-continue in your present mind, and prosper accordingly. But if all exertions fail you, ye will still enjoy more happiness than Michael Tomlinson." This gentleman, I say, was our nearest neighbour ; and, I know not why, but we soon became great and most familiar friends. Till our hut was completed, and somewhat comfortably stocked, we had nothing to apprehend from the bushrangers; but before this was effected, we were not without some tokens of their attention.. One evening, three men, well armed, and each carrying on his shoulders a Kangaroo knapsack, made their appearance at the work-men's hut, and coolly carried away such articles of provision as they could place their hands upon. Now this sally was the more provoking, as we happened, just before, to have laid in a large stock of tea, at that time to be procured only with difficulty, and, of course, at a large price. I did not know at that time, of any preconcerted scheme between any of my own men and the bushrangers; but subsequent events disclosed to me a series of villainous stratagem and connivance, of which my simple heart had then no conception. These three men belonged to Michael Howe's gang, and it is well known, that this notorious freebooter had a particular penchant for a good cup of tea, and a bouquet of flowers!* Both *How singularly incongruous is human nature! This low-minded, brutal ruffian, with as deep a thirst for blood as a blood-houud, and no more compunction in shedding it, had a partiality for flowers! In his knapsack was. found a little memorandum-book of kangaroo-skin, containing his journal,. written in kangaroo blood. Here were noted down his dreams, and sundry remarks, incident to his course of life. It appears, that he frequently dreamt of being murdered by the natives-of seeing his old companionsof being nearly taken by a soldier-of joining his sister, &c. It seems,, |