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732. POLITICAL CORRUPTION. We are apt to treat the idea of our own corruptibility, as utterly visionary, and to ask, with a grave affectation of dignity-what! do you think a member of congress can be corrupted? Sir, I speak, what I have long and deliberately considered, when I say, that since man was created, there never has been a political body on the face of the earth, that would not be corrupted under the same circumstances. Corruption steals upon us, in a thousand insidious forms, when we are least aware of its approaches.

Without it, human affairs would become a mere stagnant pool. By means his pat ronage, the president addresses himself in the most irresistible manner, to this the r blest and strongest of our passions. All that the imagination can desire--honor, power, wealth, ease, are held out as the temptation. Man was not made to resist such temptation. It is impossible to conceive,--Satan himself could not devise, a system, which would more infallibly introduce corruption and death into our political Eden. Sir, the angels fell frors. heaven with less temptation.-McDuffie

733. CATO'S SOLILOQUY ON IMMORTALITY.

Tis Heaven itself. that points out-a hereafter,

And intimates-Eternity-to man.

Of all the forms, in which it can present itself, the bribery of office-is the most dan- It must be so-Plato, thou reasonest well! gerous, because it assumes the guise of patriotism-to accomplish its fatal sorcery. We Else, whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, are often asked, where is the evidence of cor- This longing-after immortality? ruption? Have you seen it? Sir, do you Or, whence-this secret dread, and inward horret, expect to see it? You might, as well, expect Of falling-into nought? Why-shrinks the soulto see the embodied forms of pestilence, and Back on herself, and startles-at destruction?famine-stalking before you, as to see the la-Tis the Divinity-that stirs within us: tent operations of this insidious power. We may walk amidst it, and breathe its contagion, without being conscious of its presence. All experience teaches us-the irresistible power of temptation, when vice-assumes the form of virtue. The great enemy of mankind could not have consummated his infernal scheme, for the seduction of our first parents, but for the disguise, in which he presented himself. Had he appeared as the devil, in his proper form: had the spear of Ithuriel-disclosed the naked deformity of the fiend of hell, the inhabitants of paradise would have shrunk with horror from his presence.

But he came--as the insinuating serpent, and presented a beautiful apple, the most delicious fruit in all the garden. He told his glowing story to the unsuspecting victim of his guile. "It can be no crime-to taste o. this delightful fruit. It will disclose to you the knowledge of good, and evil. It will raise you to an equality with the angels." Such, sir, was the process; and, in this simple, but impressive narrative, we have the most beautiful and philosophical illustration of the frailty of man, and the power of temptation, that could possibly be exhibited. Mr. Chairman, I have been forcibly struck, with the similarity, between our present situation, and that of Eve, after it was announced, that Satan was on the borders of paradise. We, too, have been warned, that the enemy is on our borders.

But God forbid that the similitude should be carried any farther. Eve, conscious of her innocence, sought temptation and defied it. The catastrophe is too fatally known to us all. She went, "with the blessings of heaven en her head, and its purity in her heart," guarded by the ministry of angels-she returned covered with shame, under the heavy denunciation of heaven's everlasting curse. Sir, it is innocence--that temptation conquers. If our first parent, pure as she came from the hand of God, was overcome by the seductive power, let us not imitate her fatal rashness, seeking temptation, when it is in our power to avoid it. Let us not vainly confide in our own infallibility. We are liable to be corrupted. To an ambitious man, an honorable office will appear as beautiful and fascinating--as the apple of paradise. I admit, sir, that ambition is a passion, at once the most powerful and the most useful.

Eternity!-thou pleasing-dreaful thought!
Through what variety of untried being, [pass!
Through what new scenes, and changes, must wə
The wide, the unbounded prospect lies before me
But shadows, clouds, and darkness, rest upon it.—
Here-will I hold. If there's a Power above us,
(And that there is, all Nature cries aloud-
Through all her works,) He must delight in virtue.
And that, which He delights in must be happy.
But when? or where? This world-was made
for Cesar?

I'm weary of conjectures-this-must end them.-
[Laying his hand on his sword.
Thu-I am doubly armed. My death-and lifs
My bane-and antidete, are both before me.
This-in a moment, brings me to an end;
But this-informs me-I shall never die.
The soul, secured in her existence, smiles-
At the drawn dagger, and defies its point.—
The stars-shall fade away, the sun himself
Grow dim with age, and nature sink in years
But thou shalt flourish-in immortal youth,
Unhurt-amidst the war of elements,
The wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds.

IDLENESS is the badge of gentry, the bane of body and mind, the nurse of naugh tiness, the step-mother of discipline, the chief author of all mischief, one of the seven deadly sins, the cushion upon which the devil chiefly reposes, and a great cause not only of melancholy, but of many other diseases: for the mind is naturally active; and if it be not occupied about some honest business, it rush es into mischief, or sinks into melancholy.

GRAVE OF THE RENOWNED.

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When, to the grave, we follow the renowned
For valor, virtue, science, all we love,
And all we praise; for worth, whose noontide
Mends our ideas of ethereal pow'rs,
Dream we, that lustre of the moral world
Goes out in stench, and rottenness the close?
Why was he wise to know, and warm to praise,
And strenuous to transcribe, in human life,
The mind almighty! could it be that fat,
Just when the lineaments began to shine,
Should snatch the draught, and blot it out forever,

Let us contemplate, then, this connection, which binds the posterity of others to our own; and let us manfully discharge all the duties it imposes. If we cherish the virtues, and the principles of our fathers, Heaven will assist us to carry on the work of human libomens cheer us. Great examples are before us. Our firmament now shines brightly upon our path. Washington is in the clear, upper sky. Adams, Jefferson, and other stars have joined the American constellation; they circle round their center, and the heavens beam with new light. Beneath this illumination, let us walk the course of life; and, at its close, devoutly commend our beloved country, the common parent of us all, to the divine benignity.--Webster.

734. DUTIES OF AMERICAN CITIZENS. Fellow-citizens: let us not retire from this occasion, without a deep and solemn conviction of the duties, which have devolved upon us. This lovely land, this glorious liberty, these benign institutions, the dear purchase of our fathers, are ours; ours to enjoy, ours to pre-erty, and human happiness. Auspicious serve, ours to transmit. Generations past, and generations to come, hold us responsible for this sacred trust. Our fathers, from behird-admonish us with their anxious, paterral voices; postery-calls out to us from the bosom of the future; the world turns hither its solicitous eyes; all, all conjure us to act wisely, and faithfully, in the relation which we sustain. We can never, indeed, pay the debt which is upon us; but, by virtue, by morality, by religion, by the cultivation of every good principle, and every good habit, we may bope to enjoy the blessing, through our day, and leave it, unimpaired, to our children.

Let us feel deeply, how much of what we are, and what we possess, we owe to this liberty, and to these institutions of government. Nature has, indeed, given us a soil, which yields bounteously-to the hands of industry; the mighty and fruitful ocean is before us, and the skies, over our heads, shed health and vigor. But what are lands, and seas, and skies to civilized man, without society, without knowledge, without morals, without religious culture; and how can these be enjoyed, in all their extent, and all their excellence, but under the protection of wise institutions, and a free government? Fellow-citizens,

there is not one of us here present, who does not, at this moment, and at every moment, experience, in his own condition, and in the condition of those most near and dear to him, the influence, and the benefits of this liberty, and these institutions. Let us then, acknowledge the blessing; let us feel it deeply, and powerfully; let us cherish a strong aflection for it, and resolve to maintain, and perpetuate it. The blood of our fathers, let it not have been shed in vain; the great hope of posterity, let it not be blasted.

The striking attitude, too, in which we stand to the world around us,--cannot be altogether omitted here. Neither individuals, nor nations--can perform their part well, until they understand, and feel its importance, and comprehend, and justly appreciate, all the duties belonging to it. It is not to inflate national vanity, nor to swell a light and empty feeling of self-importance; but it is, that we may judge justly of our situation and of our duties, that I earnestly urge this consideration of our position, and our character among the nations of the earth.

735. LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS. The breaking waves-dashed high

On a stern-and rock-bound coast,
And the woods-against a stormy sky,
Their giant branches-tossed;

And the heavy night--hung dark-
The hills-and waters o'er,
When a band of exiles-moored their bark
On the wild-New England shore.
Not-as the conqueror-comes,

They, the true-hearted, came,
Not with the roll-of the stirring drums,
And the trumpet-that sings of fame.
Not-as the flying-come,

In silence, and in fear;

They shook-the depth-of the desert's glocm,
With their hymns of lofty cheer.

Amidst the storm-they sang,

And the stars-heard, and the sea;
And the sounding aisles-of the dim woods rang
To the anthem-of the free.

The ocean-eagle-soared

From his nest by the white wave's foam,
And the rocking pines--of the forest roared;
This was their welcome home.

There were men-with hoary hair,
Amidst that pilgrim band,
Why had they come-to wither there,
Away-from their childhood's land?
There was woman's-fearless eye,
Lit-by her deep love's truth;
There was manhood's brow, serenely high,
And the fiery heart of youth.

What-sought they-thus, afar?
Bright jewels-of the mine?

The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?
They sought-a faith's pure shrine!

Aye, call it holy ground,

The soil-where first they trod! [foundThey have left, unstained-what there-they Freedom-to worship God!-Hemans.

It cannot be denied, but by those who would dispute against the sun, that with America, and in America, a new era commences in Twas Slander-filled her mouth with lying words, human affairs. This era is distinguished by Slander, the foulest whelp of Sin. The man free representative governments, by entire In whom this spirit entered-was undone. religious liberty, by improved systems of national intercourse, by a newly awakened and His tongue-was set on fire of hell, his heart an unquenchable spirit of free inquiry, and Was black as death, his legs-were faint with hastc by a diffusion of knowledge through the com- To propagate the lie-his soul had framed; munity, such as has been before, altogether His pillow-was the peace of families unknown, and unheard of. America, Ame- Destroyed, the sigh of innocence reproached, Tica, our country, fellow-citizens, our own dear and native land, is inseparably connect-Yet did he spare his sleep, and hear the clock Broken friendships, and the strife of brotherhoods ed, fast bound up, in fortune, and by fate, with these great interests. If they fall, we Number the midnight watches, on his bed, fall with them; if they stand, it will be be- Devising mischief more; and early rose, cause we have upholden them. And made most hellish meals of good men's namos

Here was a spectacle-for the potentates of the earth to look upon, an example for them to imitate. But the potentates the earth did not see; or, if they saw, they turned away their eyes from the sight; they did not hear; or, if they heard, they shut their ears against the voice.

736. THE PILGRIMS, AND THEIR DESTI-| boasted institutions? Interrogate the shades NY. Methinks I see it now,-that one, solita of those who fell in the mighty contests, be ry, adventurous vessel, the Mayflower-of a tween Athens and Lacedæmon, betweel. forlorn hope, freighted-with the prospects Carthage and Rome, and between Rome and of a future state, and bound--across the un- the rest of the universe. But see our Wilknown sea. I behold it pursuing, with a liam Penn, with weaponless hands, sitting thousand misgivings, the uncertain, the tedi- down, peaceably, with his followers, in the ous voyage. Suns rise-and set, and weeks, midst of savage nations, whose only occupa and months-pass, and winter-surprises tion was shedding the blood of their fellowthem on the deep, but brings them not-the men, disarming them by his justice, and teachsight of the wished-for shore. I see theming them, for the first time, to view a stranger now, scantily supplied with provisions, crowd- without distrust. See them bury their tomaed, almost to suffocation, in their ill-stored hawks, in his presence, so deep, that man shall prison, delayed by calms, pursuing a circuit- never be able to find them again. See them 013 route, and now, driven in fury, before under the shade of the thick groves of Quethe raging tempest, on the high and giddy quannock, extend the bright chain of friendwaves. The awful voice of the storm-howls ship, and promise to preserve it, as long as through the rigging. The laboring masts- the sun, and moon shall endure. See him, seem straining from their base; the dismal then, with his companions, establishing his sound of the pump-is heard-the ship leaps, commonwealth on the sole basis of religion, as it were, madly, from billow to billow; the morality, and universal love, and adopting, ocean breaks, and settles with engulphing as the fundamental maxims of his governfloods over the floating deck, and beats, ment, the rule handed down to us from with deadening weight, against the staggered HEAVEN, "Glory to God on high, and on vessel. I see them escaped from these perils, earth peace, and good will to all men." pursuing their all but desperate undertaking, and landed, at last, after a five months' passage, on the ice-clad rocks of Plymouth,- | weak, and weary from the voyage,-poorly armed, scantily provisioned, depending on the charity of their ship-master-for a draft of beer on board, drinking nothing but water on shore, without shelter,-without means,surrounded by hostile tribes. Shut, now, the volume of history, and tell me, on any principle of human probability, what shall be the fate of this handfull of adventurers? Tell me, man of military science, in how many months were they all swept off-by the thirty savage tribes, enumerated within the early limits of New England? Tell me, politician, how long did this shadow of a colony, on which your conventions and treaties had not smiled, languish on the distant coast? Student of 738. WOLSEY'S SOLILOQUY ON AMBITION. history, compare for me-the baffled pro- Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness! jects, the deserted settlements, the abandon-This-is the state of man: To-day, he puts forth ed adventures, of other times, and find the The tender leaves of hope; to-morrow, blossom parallel of this. Was it the winter's storm, And bears his blushing honors—thick upon him; beating upon the houseless heads of women and children; was it hard labor and spare The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost; meals; was it disease,--was it the tomahawk; And, when he thinks, good, easy man, full surely was it the deep malady of a blighted hope, a His greatness is a ripening, nips his root; rained enterprise, and a broken heart, aching And then he falls, as I do. in its last moments, at the recollection of the I have ventur'd, loved and left, beyond the sea; was it some, Like little wanton boys, that swim on bladders, or all of these united, that hurried this forThese many summers-in a sea of glory, saken company to their melancholy fate? And is it possible, that neither of these cau- But far beyond my depth; my high-blown pride ses, that not all combined, were able to blast At length-broke under me; and now has left me this bud of hope Is it possible, that from Weary, and old with service, to the mercy a beginning so feeble, so frail, so worthy, Of a rude stream, that must forever-hide me not so much of admiration as of pity, there Vain pomp, and glory of this world, I hate you has gone forth a progress so steady, a growtb I feel my heart now open'd. so wonderful, a reality so important, a prom ise yet to be fulfilled, so glorious?-Everett, Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' favors!

737. TRIBUTE TO WILLIAM PENN. Wil

The character of William Penn alone, sheds a never-fading lustre upon our history. No other state in this Union can boast of such an illustrious founder; none began the social career, under auspices so honorable to humanity. Every trait of the life of that great man, every fact, and anecdote, of those golden times, will furnish many an interesting subject for the fancy of the novelist, ard the enthusiasm of the poet.-Duponceau.

O! how wretched

liam Penn-stands the first, among the law-
givers, whose names, and deeds are recorded
in history. Shall we compare with him Lycur-
gus, Solon, Romulus, those founders of mili-
tary commonwealths, who organized their
citizens in dreadful array-against the rest
of their species! taught them to consider
their fellow-men as barbarians, and them-
selves as alone worthy to rule over the earth?
What benefit did inankind derive from their | And learning, wiser grow-without his books.

There are, betwixt that smile--he would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes, and his ruin.
More pangs and fears, than war or women have;
And when he falls, he falls, like Lucifer,
Never-to rise again.—Shakspeare.
Meditation-here-

May think down hours-to moments; here. the
May give a useful lesson-to the nead, [heari

739. BASQUE GIRL, OR LOVE'S SACRIFICE.
Twas one of those sweet spots, which seen just
For lovers' meeting, or, for minstrel haunts [made
The maiden's blush-would look so beautiful,
By those white roses, and the poet's dream,
Would be so soothing, Jull'd by the low notes,
The birds sing-to the leaves, whose soft reply
Is murmur'd by the wind: the grass beneath,
Is full of wild flowers, and the cypress boughs
Have twined o'erhead, graceful,and close as love.
The sun is shining cheerfully, though scarce his
May pierce-through the dim shade, yet, still, [rays
Some golden hues are glancing o'er the trees,
And the blue flood is gliding by, as bright,
As hope's first smile. All, lingering, stayed to
[gaze
Upon this Eden-of the painter's art,
And looking on its loveliness, forgot-
The crowded world-around them! But a spell,
Stronger than the green landscape-fixed the
The spell-of woman's beauty! By a beech, [eye-
Whose long dark shadow--fell upon the stream,
There stood a radiant girl! her chestnut hair-
(One bright gold tint was on it)-loosely fell
In large rich curls-upon a neck, whose snow
And grace-were like the swan's; she wore the
Of her own village, and her small white feet [garb
And slender ancles, delicate, as carved
From Indian ivory-were bare,-the turf [stood!
Seem'd scarce to feel their pressure. There she
Her head-leant upon her arm, the beech's trunk
Supporting her slight figure, and one hand,
Press'd to her heart, as if to still its throbs!
You never might forget that face,-so young,
So fair, yet trac'd-with such deep characters
Of inward wretchedness! The eyes were dim
With tears, on the dark lashes; still, the lip
Could not quite lose-its own accustom'd smile,
Even by that pale cheek--it kept its arch,
And tender playfulness: you look'd, and said,
What can have shadow'd-such a sunny brow?
There is so much of natural happiness,
In that bright countenance, it seems but formed,
For Spring's light sunbeams, or yet lighter dews.
You turned away-then came-and look'd again,
Watching the pale, and silent oveliness,

Till even sleep-was haunted by that image.
There was a sever'd chain upon the ground-
Ah love is e'en more fragile than its gifts!
A tress of raven hair ;-oh! only those,
Whose souls have felt this one idolatry,
Can tell how precious-is the slightest thing,
Affection gives, and hallows! A dead flower
Will long be kept, remembrancer of looks,
That made each leaf a treasure. The tree
Had two slight words-graven upon its stem-
The broken heart's last record-of its faith--
"Adieu Henri!"

I learnt the hist'ry of the lovely picture:
It was a peasant girl's, whose soul was given
To one-as far above her, as the pine-
Towers o'er the lovely violet; yet still
She lov'd, and was belov'd again,--ere yet
The many trammels of the world-were flung
Around a heart, whose first and latest pulse,
Throbb'd-but for beauty: him, the young, the

brave,

Chivalrous prince, whose name, in after years,

2 D

A nation was to worship-hai young heart-
Beat with its first wild passion-that pure feel.ng,
Life only once may know. I will not dwell
On how affection's bark was launch'd, and lost:
Love, thou hast hopes, like summer's-short,
and bright

Moments of ecstasy, and maddening dreams,
Intense, delicious throbs! But happiness
Is not for thee. If ever thou hast known
Quiet, yet deep enjoyment, 'tis, or ere
Thy presence is confessed; but, once reveal
We bow us down-in passionate devotion,
Vow'd at thy altar; then the serpents wake,
That coil around thy votaries-hopes that matu
Tears-burning arrows-lingering jealousy
And last, worst poison, of thy cup-neglect.

It matters little, how she was forgotten,
Or what she felt-a woman--can but weep.
She pray'd her lover, but to say--farewell,—
To meet her, by the river, where such houra
Of happiness had passed, and said, she knew
How much she was beneath him; but she pray'
That he would look upon her face-once more!
He sought the spot,-upon the beechen tree
"Adieu Henri "was graven-and his heart-
Felt cold-within him! He turned to the wave
And there-the beautiful peasant floated-Death
Had seal'd-"Love's--sacrifice!"

740. HOME.

There is a land, of every land the pride,
Belov'd by heaven-o'er all the world beside
Where brighter suns-dispense serener light
And milder moons emparadise the night;
A land of beauty, virtue, valor, truth,
Time tutored age, and love exalted youth.
The wandering mariner, whose eyes explores
The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores,
Views not a realm-so beautiful and fair,
Nor breathes a spirit of a purer air;
In every clime-the magnet of his soul,
Touch'd by remembrance, trembles to that pole;
For in this land-of heaven's peculiar grace,
The heritage-of nature's noblest race,
There is a spot of earth--supremely bles!,
A dearer, sweeter spot-than all the rest,
Where man, creation's tyrant, casts aside
His sword, and sceptre, pageantry, and pride;
Within his softened looks, benignly blend
The sire, the son, the husband, father, friend:
Here, woman reigns; the mother, daughter, wife,
Strews, with fresh flowers, the narrow way of
In the clear heaven of her delightful eye, [life;
An angel guard of loves and graces lie;
Around her knees, domestic duties meet,
And fire-side pleasures gamble at her feet.
Where shall that land, that spot of earth be found?
Art thou a man? a patriot ? look around;
Oh! thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam,
That land--thy country, and that spot-thy home!
He, wao, malignant, tears an absent friend,
Or, when attacked by others, don't defend :
Whe trivial bursts of laughter strives to raise,
And counts of prating petulance the praise:
Of things he never saw, who tells his tale,
And friendship's secrets knows not to conceal;
This man is vile; here, Roman, fix your mark;
His soul is black.

741. MARIA DE TORQUEMADA TAKING THE VAIL.
"My on you should have seen her, as she stood,
3.id the world-farewell. Her pretty hands,
Like two enclasping lilies; in her eyes,

Two quivering crystal drops,-her cheek-a rose,
Yet of the whitest, turned upon the sky,

To which her thoughts were wing'd! I never saw
So heavenly touch'd a sorrow!"

There is a spot, a holy spot,

A refuge for the wearied mind;
Where earth's wild visions-are forgot,
And love, thy poison spell 's untwined.
There, learns the withered heart-to pray-
There, gently breaks earth's weary chain;
Nay, let me weep my life away-
Let me do all,-but love again.
Oh! thou that judgest of the heart,
Look down upon this bosom bare;
And all, all mercy as thou art,

Save from that wildest, worst despair.
There-silent, dreamless, loveless, lone,
The agony, at length, is o'er;

The bleeding breast-is turned to stone,
Hope dies-and passion-yakes no more.

I ask not death,-1 wait thy will;
I dare not-touch my fleeting span:
But let me, oh not linger still,

The slave of misery and man!
Why sink my steps! one struggle past,
And all the rest-is quiet gloom;
Eyes-look your longest, and your last,
Then, turn ye to your cell, and tomb.
Fly swift, ye hours!-the convent grate,
To me-is open Paradise:
The keenest bitterness of fate,

Can last, but till the victim-dies!

712. FALL OF BEAUTY, BY TEMPTATION. Once on a lovely day, it was in springI rested on the verge of that dread cliff, That overlooks old Sterling. All was gay; The birds-sang sweet; the trees-put forth their

leares,

[soms; So pale, that in the sun, they locked like blosSome children wandered, careless, on the hill, Selecting early flowers. My heart rejoiced, For all was glad around me. One sweet maid Came tripping near, eyeing, with gladsome smile, Each little flower, that bloomed upon the hill: Nimbly she picked them,'minding me of the swan, That feeds upon the waste. I blest the girl,She was not maid, nor child; but of that age, "Twixt both, when purity of frame, and soul, Awaken dreams of beauty, drawn in heaven.

Deep in a little den, within the cliff.

A flow'ret caught her eye,-it was a primrose, Fair faunting in the sun. With eager haste, Hee! ess of risk, she clambered down the steep, Pluck'd the wish'd flower, and sighed for when

she saw

The depth she had descended, then. she woke
To sense of danger! All her flowers she dropped,
And tried to gain the height: but--tried in vain!
I hastened to her rescue; but-alas!

I came too late!--O God! she fell.

Far, far down on the rocks below, ller lovely form was found--at rest!

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I saw her, in mid air, fall like u seriph
From out the firmament. The rooks and dawn
That fled their roosts, in thousands, at the sight,
Curtained her exit-from my palsied eye,
And dizzy brain. O! never, will that scene
Part from my heart! whene'er I would be sad,
I think of it.

743. THE BEST OF WIVES.

[ceasing

[done

A man had once a vicious wife--
(A most uncommon thing in life);
His days and nights-were spent in strife-u
Her tongue went glibly-all day long,
Sweet contradiction-still her song,
And all the poor man did-was wrong, and ill.
A truce without doors, or within,
From speeches-long as tradesmen spin,
Or rest from her eternal din, he found not.
He every soothing art displayed;
Tried of what stuff her skin was made:
Failing in all, to Heaven he prayed--to take her.
Once, walking by a river's side,

In mournful terms, "My dear," he cried, [them. "No more let feuds our peace divide,-I'll end "Weary life, and quite resigned,

To drown-I have made up my mind,
So tie my hands as fast behind-as can be,-
"Or nature-may assert her reign,
My arms assist, my will restrain,
And swimming, I once more regain, my troubico"
With eager haste-tne dame complies,
While joy-stands glistening in her eyes;
Already, in her thoughts, he dies-before her.
"Yet, when I view the rolling tide,
Nature revolts"-he said; "beside,

[do.

I would not be a suicide, and die thus. "It would be better, far I think, While close I stand-upon the brink, You push me in,-nay, never shrink-but do it. To give the blow--the more effect. Some twenty yards--she ran direct, And did-what she could least expect, she should He slips aside-himself to save, [pleasure. So souse she dashes, in the wave, And gave, what ne'er she gave before-much "Dear husband, help! I sink!" she cried; "Thou best of wives" the man replied, "I would,-but you my hands have tied.-benven help you."

The modern device of consulting indexes, is to read books hebraically, and begin where others usually end. And this is a compendi ous way of coming to an acquaintance with authors; for authors are to be used like lob sters, you must look for the best meat in the tails, and lay the bodies back again in the dish. Your cunningest thieves (and what else are readers, who only read to borrow, i. e. to steal; use to cut off the portmanteau from behind, without staying to dive into the pockets of the owner.-Swift.

Desire, (when young) is easily suppressed; But, cherished by the sun of warm encourage

ment,

Becomes too strong-and potent-for control; Nor yields-but to despair the worst of passiona

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