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doctor's predictions, as the gentleman died some years after; and what was still more

traordinary, at the time of Doctor Monsey's death there was no person that had the promise of the reversion.

Anecdote of Casimir the Second, King of Poland.

When Casimir was Prince of Sandomir, he won, at play, all the money of one of his nobility, who, incensed at his ill-fortune, struck the prince a blow on his ear, in the heat of his passion. He fled immediately from justice; but being pursued, and overtaken, he was condemned to lose his head -yet, the generous Casimir determined otherwise; "I am not surprised," said he, "at the gentleman's conduct, for not having it in his power to revenge himself of Fortune, no wonder he should attack her favourite." After which, he revoked the sentence, returned the nobleman his money, and declared, that "himself alone

was faulty, as he had encouraged, by his example, a pernicious practice, that might terminate in the ruin of hundreds of his people."

A FRAGMENT.

O'er the pale embers of a dying fire,
His little lamp, fed but with little oil,
The curate sat, (for scanty was his hire,)
And ruminated sad the morrow's toil.

'Twas Sunday's eve, meet season to prepare, The stated lectures of the coming tide; No day of rest to him, but day of care; At manie a church to preach, with tedious ride.

Before him sprede his various sermons lay,.
Of explanation deepe, and sage advice,
The harvest, gain'd from manie a thought-
ful daye,

The fruit of learninge, bought with heavy

On these he cast a fond, but fearful eye, Awhile he paus'd, for sorrow stopt his

throte,

Arriv'd at length, he heav'd a bitter sighe, And thus complain'd, as well indeed, he

mote:

"Here is a scholar's lot, condemn'd to sail,

Unpatroniz'd o'er life's tempestuous wave; Clouds blind his sight, nor blows a friendly gale,

To waft him to one port, except the grave.

"Big with presumptive hope, I launch'd my reel,

With youthful ardour, and bright science fraughte,

Unanxious of the pains, long doom'd to

feel;

Unthinking that the voyage might end in

noughte.

"Pleas'd on the summit sea, I danc'd awhile,

With gay companions, and with views as fair,

Outstript by these, I'm kept to humble toil, My fondest hopes abandon'd in despair.

"Had my ambitious mind been led to rise To highest flights, to croster, and to pall, Scarce could I mouin, the missinge of my prize,

For soaringe wishes, well deserve their fall.

"No tow'ring thought like these, engag'd my breast,

I hop'd (nor blame, ye proud, the lowly plan,)

Some little cove, some parsonage of rest, The scheme of duty suited to the man.

"Where, in my narrow sphere, secure at

ease,

From vile dependence free, I might remain The guide to good, the counsellor of peace; The friend, the shepherd, to the village

swain.

Yet, cruel fate, deny'd the small request, And bound me fast in one ill-omen'd hour, Beyond the chance of remedy, to rest The slave of wealthie pride, and priestly pow'r.

"Oft as in russet weeds I scour along, In distant chapels, hastilie to pray,

By nod, scarce notic'd, of the passing thronge;

'Tis but the curate, every child will say.

«Nor circumscrib'd in dignity alone, Do I my rich superior's vassal ride; Sad penurie, as was in cottage known, With all its frowns, does o'er my roof preside.

"Ah! not for me, the harvest yields its

store;

The bough-crown'd shock, in vain attracts mine eye,

To labour doom'd, and destin'd to be poor, I pass the field, I hope, not envious by.

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