years the western breeze had not once fanned his bloodhe had seen no sun, no moon, in ali that time-nor had the voice of friend or kinsman breathed through his lattice. His children But here my heart began to bleed-and I was forced to go on with another part of the portrait. He was sitting upon the ground upon a lit le straw, in the farthest corner of his dungeon, which was alternately his chair and bed: a little calendar of small sticks were laid at the head, notched all over with the dismal days and nights he had passed there-he had one of these little sticks in his hand, and with a rusty nail he was etching another day of misery to add to the heap. As I darkened the little light he had, he lifted up a hopeless eye towards the door, then cast it down-shook his head, and went on with his work of affliction. I heard his chains upon his legs, as he turned his body to lay his little stick upon the bundle-He gave a deep sigh-I saw the iron enter into his soul--I burst into tears-I could not sustain the picture of confinement which my fancy had drawn. STERNE, diah CHAPTER III. CORPORAL TRIM'S ELOQUENCE. My young master in Londen is dead, said Oba i -Here is sad news, Trim, cried Susannah, wiping her reyes as Trim stepped into the kitchen-master Bobby is dead. I lament for him from my heart and my soul, said Trim, fetching a sigh-poor creature! poor boy!poor gentleman! He was alive last Whitsuntide, said the coachman.-Whitsuntide! alas! cried Trim, extending his right arm, and falling instantly into the same attitude in which he read the sermon,-what is Whitsuntide, Jonathan, (for that was the coachman's name,) or Shrovetide, or any tide or time past, to this? Are we not here now, continued the corporal, (striking the end of his stick perpendicularly upon the floor, so as to give an idea of health and stability,) are are we not (dropping his hat upon the ground) gone! in a moment!—It was infinitely striking! Susannah burst into a flood of tears.-We are not stocks and stones— Jonathan, Obadiah, the cook-maid, all melted.-The foolish fat scullion herself, who was scouring a fish-kettle upon her knees, was roused with it.-The whole kitchen crowded about the corporal. "Are we not here now, and gone in a moment? There was nothing in the sentence-it was one of your self-evident truths we have the advantage of hearing every day; and if Trim had not trusted more to his hat than his head, he had made nothing at all of it. "Are we not here now," continued the corporal, “and are we not" (dropping his hat plump upon the ground -and pausing, before he pronounced the word)" gone! in a moment?" The descent of the hat was as if a heavy lump of clay had been kneaded into the crown of it.Nothing could have expressed the sentiment of mortality, of which it was the type and forerunner, like it; his hand seemed to vanish from under it, it fell dead, the corporal's eye fixed upon it, as upon a corpse,-and Susannah' burst into a flood of tears. STERNE. CHAPTER IV. THE MAN OF ROSS. ALL our praises why should Lords engross? Who hung with woods yon mountain's sultry brow? Or in proud falls magnificently lust, But clear and artless, pouring through the plain The Is Balk'd are the courts, and contest is no more. Ye little stars! hide your diminish'd rays. And what! no monument, inscription, stone? L3 CHAPTER V. THE COUNTRY CLERGYMAN. NEAR Yonder copse, where once the garden smild, Nor e'er had chang'd, nor wish'd to change his place; Shoulder'd his crutch, and show'd how fields were won. Pleas'd with his guests, the good man learn'd to glow, His pity gave ere charity began. Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, He watch'd and wept, he pray'd and felt for all. Beside the bed where parting life was laid, The rev'rend champion stood. At his control At church, with meek and unaffected grace, And pluck'd his gown, to share the good man's smile; Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm, GOLDSMITIN CHAPTER VI. THE WISH. CONTENTMENT, parent of delight, And for thy temple choose my heart. |