C. - THE THREE WARNINGS.

FROM MRS. THRALE.

1. THE tree of deepest root is found
Least willing still to quit the ground;
'T was therefore said, by ancient +sages,
That love of life increas'd with years,
So much, that in our latter stages,

When pains grow sharp and sickness rages,
The greatest love of life appears.

This great affection to believe,
Which all confess, but few perceive,
If old assertions can 't prevail,
Be pleas'd to hear a modern tale.

2. When sports went round, and all were gay,
On neighbor Dobson's wedding day;
Death called aside the +jocund groom
With him into another room;

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And looking grave, You must," says he,
"Quit your sweet bride, and come with me."
"With you? and quit my Susan's side?
With you?" the hapless bridegroom cried:
"Young as I am, 't is monstrous hard!
Besides, in truth, I'm not prepar'd."

3. What more he urg'd, I have not heard;
His reasons could not well be stronger:
So Death the poor †delinquent spar'd,
And left to live a little longer.

Yet calling up a serious look,

His hour-glass trembled, while he spoke;

But when I call again this way,
Well pleas'd, the world will leave.”
To these conditions both consented,
And parted, perfectly contented.

4. What next the hero of our tale befell,
How long he liv'd, how wisely and how well,

It boots not, that the muse should tell;

He plow'd, he sow'd, he bought, he sold,
Nor once perceiv'd his growing old,
Nor thought of Death as near;

His friends not false, his wife no shrew,
Many his gains, his children few,

He pass'd his hours in

peace:

But, while he view'd his wealth increase,
While thus along life's dusty road,

The beaten track, content he trod,
Old Time, whose haste no mortal spares,
Uncall'd, unheeded, tunawares,

Brought on his eightieth year.

5. And now, one night, in musing mood As all alone he sat,

The unwelcome messenger of Fate Once more before him stood.

Half kill'd with wonder and surprise, "So soon return'd!" old Dobson cries. "So soon d'ye call it?" Death replies :

'Surely my friend, you 're but in jest ;
Since I was here before,

"T is six and thirty years at least,

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And you are now four-score."

'So much the worse!" the clown trejoin'd;

"To spare the aged would be kind:

Besides, you promis'd me three warnings,

Which I have looked for, nights and mornings!"

6. "I know," cries Death, "that at the best,
I seldom am a welcome guest;

But do n't be captious, friend; at least,
I little thought that you'd be able
To stump about your farm and stable;
Your years have run to a great length,
Yet still you seem to have your strength."

7. "Hold!" says the farmer, "not so fast;
I have been lame, these four years past."

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For legs and arms would make amends."
Perhaps," says Dobson, so it might,
But latterly I've lost my sight."

"This is a shocking story, faith;

But there's some comfort still," says Death;
Each strives your sadness to amuse;

I warrant you hear all the news."
"There's none," cries he, "and if there were,
I've grown so deaf, I could not hear."

8. "Nay, then," the specter stern rejoin'd,
"These are unpardonable tyearnings;
If you are lame, and deaf, and blind,
You've had your three sufficient warnings;
So, come along! no more we'll part: "
He said, and touch'd him with his dart:
And now, old Dobson, turning pale,
Yields to his fate-so ends my tale.

1. WE are called upon to cherish with high veneration and grateful recollections, the memory of our fathers. Both the ties of nature and the dictates of policy, demand this. And surely, no nation had ever less occasion to be ashamed of its ancestry, or more occasion for gratulation in that respect; for while most nations trace their origin to barbarians, the foundations of our nation were laid by civilized men, by Christians. Many of them were men of distinguished families, of powerful talents, of great learning and of *pre-eminent wisdom, of decision of character, and of most inflexible integrity. And yet not unfrequently, they have been treated as if they had no virtues; while their sin and follies, have been *sedulously immortalized in satirical anecdote. 2. The influence of such treatment of our fathers is too +manifest. It creates, and lets loose upon their institutions,

the vandal spirit of tinnovation and overthrow; for after the memory of our fathers shall have been rendered contemptible, who will appreciate and sustain their institutions? The memory of our fathers, should be the watchword of liberty throughout the land; for, imperfect as they were, the world before had not seen their like, nor will it soon, we fear, behold their like again. Such models of moral excellence, such apostles of civil and religious liberty, such shades of the illustrious dead looking down upon their descendants with approbation or reproof, according as they follow or depart from the good way, constitute a *censorship inferior only to the eye of God; and to ridicule them, is national suicide. 3. The doctrines of our fathers have been represented as gloomy, superstitious, severe, irrational, and of a licentious. tendency. But when other systems shall have produced a piety as devoted, a morality as pure, a patriotism as disinterested, and a state of society as happy, as have prevailed where their doctrines have been most prevalent, it may be in season to seek an answer to this objection.

4. The persecutions instituted by our fathers, have been the occasion of ceaseless tobloquy upon their fair fame. And truly, it was a fault of no ordinary magnitude, that sometimes they did persecute. But let him whose ancestors were not ten times more guilty, cast the first stone, and the ashes of our fathers will no more be disturbed. Theirs was the fault of the age, and it will be easy to show, that no class of men had, at that time, approximated so nearly to just *apprehensions of religious liberty; and that it is to them that the world is now indebted, for the more just and definite views which now prevail.

5. The superstition and tbigotry of our fathers, are themes on which some of their descendants, themselves far enough from superstition, if not from bigotry, have delighted to dwell. But when we look abroad, and behold the condition of the world, compared with the condition of New England, we may justly exclaim, "Would to God that the ancestors of all the nations had been not only almost, but altogether such bigots as our fathers were."

CII. LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS.
FROM MRS. HEMANS.

1. THE breaking waves dash'd high
On a stern and rock-bound coast,
And the woods against a stormy sky,
Their giant branches toss'd;

2. And the heavy night hung dark,
The hills and waters o'er,

When a band of +exiles +moor'd their bark
On the wild New England shore.

3. 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.

4. Not as the flying come,

In silence, and in fear;

They shook the depths of the desert's gloom

With their hymns of lofty cheer.

5. Amid the storm they sang,

And the stars heard, and the sea;

And the sounding taisles of the dim woods rang

To the anthem of the free.

6. The ocean eagle soar'd

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

7. There were men with hoary hair,
Amid that pilgrim band,

Why had they come to wither there,
Away from their childhood's land?

8. There was woman's fearless eye,
Lit by her deep love's truth;
There was manhood's brow, tserenely high,
And the fiery heart of youth.

9. 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!