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would like to dwell on the benevolent speculations of the These dreams--the night-mare, in which he struggles Curate, and upon his Church Reform ; but he hurries back with the Parson and the Overscer-we hasten over, that we to his cantatory paupers, and we follow him to hear Tom may contrive to sweeten the reader's imagination, ere we Perkins, the old soldier's song of the glories of Waterloo. part, with a stanza of the Pauper Emigrant's Song. Bill It is bitter enough; and after the clerical gallop is inter- Harvey, who looks to another country for the means of rupted by what may truly be called kindred sounds. subsistence, denied him for his willing labour in England, Clang! clang! goes the village bell again,

or in his native village, sings thus, And the Rector, red and hot, Has rattled along, without slacking his rein,

The shaded savannah has pestilent brakes ;
All through the village, and up the church lane,

The wood has its tigers, the swamp has its snakes.
At an Osbaldiston trot:

He fears no savannah who's toil'd in a drain,
Wiping his brow, and panting for breath,

The snake on the pauper glares fearful in vain;
He's afraid be will scarcely be in at the death.

From priest, squire, and farmer but let me go free,
Faintly, wearily, tolls the bell;

The tiger and serpent are welcome to me!
Clang! clang! clang! 'tis a pauper's knell,

Oh give me the wood where the axe never swung,
A poor old man with silver hair,

Where man never entered, and voice never rung,
Broken by seventy years of care.

A hut made of logs, and a gun by my side,
The panting steed is ticd to the gate,

The land for my portion, and Jane for my bride,
And the Rector goes into church, in state ;

That hut were a palace, a country for me,
Soon you will see him, in robes of snow,

Dash on, thou proud ship, o'er the wide-rolling sea!
Fortb from the church's portal go,
A holy man, devout and sincere,

Were it practicable we would like to present our readers
And much underpaid with two thousand a-year!

with the surgeon who physics three hundred paupers in The pauper funeral is a description in the finest manner this, and the neighbouring parishes, by wholesale. He of CRABBE. The rites are huddled over :

hurries off from the dying bed of a beautiful and lost woSeventy years of want and sin

man, undone by the strong temptations of poverty, but, Sleep that narrow cell within,

first shakes his head, then shakes it again,
And the earth is shovellid in!
Jarringly, with accent drear,

For, with seventeen pounds, and his patients so many,
The parting knell grates on the car.

Two shakes is all he can waste upon any.
The boys are gone, the bearers fled,
The women in their cloaks of red ;

The picture of true and counterfeit Charity'is among
There's no one 'neath the yew-trees cold,
Save the sexton, stamping down the mould.

the best things in the volume; the one, holy, pure, pitying ; The Rector awakens the silent street,

the other but for the benefit of our fair readers we shall With the quick sounds of galloping feet;

give False Charity at full length, having long suspected The sky is bright, the flowers are out,

that many need their ideas of charity expanded and rectified. The school is let loose with a joyous shout;

Here she is,
There's gladness in each light wind's breath.
Tush!- We have said too much of death:

A little French Milliner fill'd with grimace,
Would it not be much better to dispense altogether in Takes Charity's name and stands forth in her place,
the case of the English poor, with a solemnity which is so Flaunting abroad in a furbelow'd gown
often converted into a mockery or indecency.

She's the wonder and pride, and the belle of the town :We have compared the writer with CRABBE; and the

O how she sighs at a story of wo! comparison holds in many points, besides the general strain

A sigh so becoming to bosom of snow

Oh ! how she begs, looking pretty thc while, of sentiment and tone of colouring ; but he gains another

Till hearts, and subscriptions are gain'd by her smile; power from greater rapidity of transition, and liveliness of She sits in her parlour, surrounded by beaux, fancy.

And looks so divine making poor people's clothes, Part III opens with a sweet description of evening, and

And fans of goose feathers, and shoes made of scraps, the village workman's return; but his, alas! is no Cottar's

And fire-screens, and needle-books, babies and caps,

She's so tender and busy,- she levies a war Saturday Night. Copious as our extracts have been, we

'Gainst the gentlemen's hearts at a Fancy Bazaar. must give this in-door picture of our English labourer's

Oh! Charity flaunts it in feather and plume, home, and of the dens from which Swing issues forth. He And smiles like an angel-in rouge and perfume is crossing the stile to his cottage, bearing his spade on his She flirts at her booth-she's the gayest of belles, shoulder:

And hardly she bargains, and dearly she seils;

And customers wonder, that lady so free,
Hark! is he singing ?-no such thing,

So kind to the poor, and so tender should be ;
His heart is much too full to sing.

A truce to your wonder-she heeds not the poor
Is he weary P--thirsty ?-cola ?

If once she is married she's tender no more,
All day long, since morning's peep,
He's been ditching in the mould,

Ah, me! that such labour, such feeling and care,
In mud and water ancle deep.

Should all be bestowed upon Vanity Fair,-
Home that happy man's returning-

And deeper the error, and darker the shame,
Doubtless there's a bright fire burning;

That this is transacted in Charity's name!
Thirsty from his toil severe-
Doubtless there's some bome-brew'd beer.

We must not linger on the Pauper Dirge, nor yet on
Happy man! how blest is he!

the midnight moralizing of the Curate on the Village, and How much more happy than the bee!

those solemn thoughts which wind up a subject pregnant A fire ? No wood has he to burn

with the weal or wo of unborn millions.

The subject,
No tankard foams at his return;
Off to his pallet let him creep,

we confess, has engrossed us more than the mode in which And sink reality in sleep.

it is managed ; and we have spoken of this poem as a But, e'er to slumber he is past,

Schoolmaster, not as a critic. It is a production which any What's the sound that meets him last ?

poet might be proud to own; yet its purpose is a higher Is it children's gentle voices ?

merit, and fervently do we wish that the object of the author (To father's ear most bless'd of noises,)

may be accomplished in rousing attention « to the actual Children laughing loud and long, Or bursting into joyful song?

state of feeling among the poor.” For the sake of suffering Laughing they are not-nor singing,

humanity we are glad the Village Work-house has been Yet their voices loud are ringing ;

written, and for the sake of Scotland, we are proud to under. They have gathered round his bed,

stand that we may claim this CRABBE REDIVIVUS as a They have been but scantly fed,

strayed countryman. He has caught the honoured mantle They are asking him for bread.

of the author of the l'arish Register as it fell-long may Oh, lullaby, supremely blest !

he wear it! What dreams must beautify his rest?

MR.

ADVENTURE OF A FEMALE INDIAN.

THE NEW MONTILY MAGAZÍNE.

of patriotism ?-No! we feel at once that Nature taught Sentt The October number is a pleasant one, and of considerable more of triendsliip with all mankind, than the philosophy of the

Out of print, Scott might belog variety, Lady Blessington's Recollections ; Shelley at Ox- to a partyin print, mankind belonged to him. Torpigan

, ford ; Private (smart) Hints to a Young Physician, quite as which is another name for the spirit of monopoly, forsook kam applicable to the beginning practitioner in Edinburgh, Bath He is not, then, we apprehend, justly liable to the charge of

at that point where his inquiries into human nature began. or Dublin, as London ; a little moderate politics, a few wanting a sound moral-even a great political moral and peppery paragraphs in the Monthly Commentary ; and political morals are the greatest of all in the general tenor some eloquent, generous, and touchingly beautiful remarks of works which liave compelled the highest classes to examine

and respect the lowest. In this, with far less learning, far less on the DEATH OF SIR WALTER Scott, by the Author abstract philosophy than Fielding, he is only exceeded by Lima of Pelham, and Eugene Aram, are the main articles. in one character--(and that, indeed, the most admirable in BULWER's opinion of the character of Scott's writings so en

English fiction)--the character of Parson Adams. Jeanie

Deans is worth a thousand such as Fanny Andrews. tirely meets the hasty view taken of them in the School

COLUMN FOR THE LADIES. MASTER of the 29th ult., that we really feel proud of the coincidence, and gratified in believing that this opinion, On Hearne's return from the mouth of the Coppermine, which only does justice to the illustrious Dead, may be an incident occured strikingly characteristic of savage life : much more general than we had imagined. We give one

The Indians came suddenly on the track of a strange snow. short passage, which is as beautiful in language, as true from any human habitation, they discovered a hut, in

shoe, and following it to a wild part of the country, remote and noble in feeling.

which a young indian woman was sitting alone. She had “But this potver to charm and to beguile is not that moral lived for the last eight moons in absolute solitude, and re. excellence to which we reser, Scott has been the first great counted, with affecting simplicity, the circumstances by genius-Fielding alone excepted—who invited our thorough which she had been driven from her own people: She beand uncondescending sympathy to the wide mass of the human longed, she said, to the tribe of the Dog-ribbed Indians, family--who has stricken (for" in this artificial world it requires and in an inroad of the Athabasca nation, in the summer an etřort) into our hearts à love and a respect for those chosen of 1770, had been taken prisoner. The savages, accordint from the people. Shakspeare has not done this--Shakspeare to their invariable practice, stole upon the tents in the paints the follies of the mob with a strong and unfriendly hand. night, and murdered before her face her father, mother, and Where, in Shakespeare, is there a Jeanie Deans ? Take up husband, whilst she and otherthree young women were reserywhich you will of those numerous works which have appeared, ed from the slaughter, and made captive. Her child, four pour from " Waverley” to the Chronicles of the Canongate,"; open where you please, and you will find portraits from the five months old, she contrived to carry with her, concealed people--and your interest keeping watch beside the poor man's among some clothing; but on arriving at the place where hearth. Not, in Scott, as they were in the dramatists of our the party had left their wives, her precious bundle was language, are the peasant, the artificer, the farmer, dragged on examined by the Athabasca women, one of whom tore the the stage merely to be lauglied at for their brogue, and made infant from its mother, and killed it on the spot

. In Eu" He paints them, it is true, in their natural language, but been instantly followed by the insanity of the parent; but

rope, an act so inhuman would, in all probability, bava the language is subservient to the character ; he does not bow in North America, though maternal affection is equally, inthe man to the phrase, but the phrase to the man. dnes he flatter on the one hand, as he does not slight on the tense, the nerves are more sternly strung. So horrida other. Unlike the maudlin pastoralists of France, he contents cruelty, however, determined her, though the man whose himself with the simple truth-he contrasts the dark shadows property she had become was kind and careful of her, to of Meg Merrilies, or of Edie Ochiltree, with the holy and pure take the first opportunity of escaping, with the intention of lights that redeem and sanctify them—he gives us the poor, returning to her own nation ; but the great distance, and ed, if our interest is excited, and knowing that nature is suffi- caused her to lose the way, and winter

coming on, she had even to the gipsy and the beggar, as they really are-content the numerous winding rivers and creeks she had to pass, cient to excite it. From the palaces of kings, from the tents built a hut in the secluded spot. When discovered she was of warriors, he comes equally at home with man in all aspects in good health, well fed, and, in the opinion of Hearne, one Plantagenets to bow the knee to the poor Jew's daughter-he of the finest Indian women he had ever seen. makes us sicken at the hollowness of the royal Rothsay, to inches of hoop made into a knife, and the iron shauk of an sympathize with the honest love of Hugh the smith. No, never arrow-head which served as an awl, were the only implewas there one-not even Burns himself-who forced us more ments she possessed ; and with these she made snow-shoes intimately to acknowledge, or more deeply to feel, that and other useful articles. For subsistence she snared par: The rank is but the guinea stamp,

tridges, rabbits, and squirrels, and had killed two or three The man's the gowd for a'that."

beavers and some porcupines. After the few deer-sinews " And is this being, to whom intellect taught philanthropy, to she had brought with her were expended in making smares be judged by ordinary rules ?--are we to ĝuage and mete' his and sewing her clothing, she supplied their place with the capacities of good, by the common measure we apply to com- sinews of rabbits” legs, which she twisted together with mon men 2-Nol there was in bim a large and catholic sym- great dexterity. Thus occupied, she not only became to pathy with all classes, all tempers, all conditions of men; and conciled to her desolate

situation, but had found time to this it was that redeemed his noble works from all the taint of party, and all the leaven of sectarianism ; this it was that

amuse herself by manufacturing little pieces of personal made him, if the Tory in principle, the all-embracing leader in ornament. Her clothing was formed of rabbit-skins sewed practice. Compare with what he has done for the people in together : the materials, though rude, being tastefully dispainting the penple—the works of prets called Liberal by the posed, so as to make her garb assume a pleasing though doctrinaires compare the writings of Scott with those of desert-bred appearance. The singular circumstances under poor? The first has touched the homely strings of our real ments, occasioned a contest among the Indians as to who Byron-which have really tended the most to bind us to the which she was found, her beauty and usetul accomplishlieart—the other has written fine

vague stanzas about freedom. should have her for a wife ; and the matter being decided, Lara, the Corsair, Childe Harolde, Don Juan, these are the she accompanied them in their journey.- [The above anos aristocrat. Are Scott's so? Yet Byron was a liberal

, and Cabinet Library. The subject of this volume, of which Scott a Tory. Alas, the sympathy with humanity is the true republicanism of a writer of fiction. Liberal and Tory are

Mr. Patrick Fraser Tytler is the author, is Discoveries ont words whicla signify nothing out of the sphere of the politics the Northern Couses of America, from the earliest periods of the day. Who shall we select from the Liberal poets of our

down to Beechey's voyage.

It is one of great interest.) age who has bound is to the people like Scott-shelley, with pis metaphysical refinings - Moore, with bis elaborate for lity sent by au enamoured swain to his beloved in Lccds. The

LOVE! LOVE-Verbatim copy of a Jore-ietter lately

Five or six

lady, not having partaken of the march of intellect, handed | Parliament in the reign of George 1. .l.certainly did not it over to her master, who deciphered it for her; and we think less favourably of him for seeing him. publish it as a model for Yorkshire Corydons :

6 As a political partisan, no one can stand against him. Dear Bessy,--A I do Joike thee My Love is stroner With his brandished club, like Giant Despair in the Pil. than iver-I nivir had a wink of sleep sin I wor at Leeds grim's Progress, he knocks out their brains; and not only -Sun may melt mountains and sea may run wick be no individual, but no corrupt system could hold out against fure I can change my love agin- I loike Poy better nor his powerful and repeated attacks, but with the same weaought but I loike thee better than Poy—therefore thou pon, swung round like a flail, that he levels his antagonists, may make up thee mind to let me put spurrings in_and he lays his friends low, and puts his own party hors de comwe will be wed and gang home in a chaise at Martinmas." bat. This is a bad propensity and a worse principle in po

FERRONIERE.* _These ornaments are universally worn litical tactics, though a common one. If his blows were in Paris. They were very much in vogue about fifteen straight-forward and steadily directed to the same object, no years since, and were reproduced by the celebrated hair- unpopular minister could live before him ; instead of which dresser Nardin, at the commencement of the present season, he lays about right and left, impartially and remorselessly, in compliment to a lady of high rank in Paris, who is dis- makes a clear stage, has all the ring to himself, and then figured by a mole in the centre of the forehead, and who runs out of it, just when he should stand his ground. He brought back the fashion by means of a beautiful diamond throws his head into his adversary's stomach, and takes ferroniere, which was found a considerable improvement to away from him all inclination for the fight, hits fair or her countenance. Jewel-boxes are now made to contain foul, strikes at every thing, and as you come up to his aid six ferronieres, without which no fashionable toilette is or stand ready to pursue his advantage, trips up your heels, complete ; two for morning use, fastened by a cameo and or lays you sprawling, and pummels you when down as antaglio of antique workmanship; two with engraved much to his heart's content, as ever the Sanguesian carriers coral and amethyst clasps, for dinner dress; one with dia- belaboured Rosinante with their pack staves. monds, and one with mixed stones. These are united by « Mr. Cobbett has no comfort in fixed principles; as soon chains of gold, hair, or pearls, so that they can also be as any thing is settled in his own mind, he quarrels with it. worn on the neck.

He has no satisfaction but in the chase after truth, runs a WILLIAM COBBETT.

question down, worries and kills it, then quits it like ver.

min, and starts some new game, to lead him a new dance, The following remarks by two excellent judges, Mr. and give him a fresh breathing through bog and brake, Hazlitt and the Examiner, will in this quarter be read with the rabble yelping at his heels, and the leaders perwith interest at present:

petually at fault. This he calls sport royal. He thinks it “ Cobbett is not only unquestionably the most powerful

as good as cudgel-playing, or single-stick, or any thing political writer of the day, but one of the best writers in the

that has life in it. He likes the cut and thrust, the falls, language. He speaks and thinks plain, broad, downright useful results that may come of the amicable settling of it,

bruises, and dry blows of an argument: as to any good or English.

“ He might be said to have the clearness of Swift, the any one is welcome to them for him. The amusement is naturalness of De Poe, and the picturesque satirical descrip- over, when the matter is once fairly decided.” tion of Mandeville; if all such comparisons were not im- and he not only shapes his works of instruction with the

“ Whatever Mr. Cobbett takes in hand he takes to heart, pertinents " The late Lord Thurlow used to say that Cobbett was self of all the opportunities for agreeable illustration and

exactest attention to the uses, but delights in availing himthe only writer who deserved the name of a political reasonet.

appropriate embellishment. It is his art, when treating on " His episodes, which are numerous as they are pertinent, the most familiar subject, to touch the reader with a new are striking, interesting, full of life and naiveté, minute, sense of it; this he effects partly by the rare zest with which double measure running over, but never tedious. He is he writes, and partly by producing all the little circumone of those writers who can never tire us, not even of him stances, and setting upon them their just value. Cobbett is kelf; and the reason is, he is always full of matter.' He

a fine critic

he has an eye for beauty, and an excellent fanever suns to lees, never gives us the vapid leavings of him culty for picking out the right point of view“his tastes are self, is never weary, stale, and unprofitable, but always simple, but eager, and glow with the flush of health. setting out afresh on his journey, clearing away some old

“ Analysis is his great power, and as he is earnest himnuisances, and turning up new mould. His egotism is de- self upon every part he touches, he communicates his earlightful, for there is no affectation in it. He does not talk nestness to the reader. No man has the faculty of seeing of himself for lack of something to write about, but be

so much of the good and so much of the bad of any subject, Cause some circumstance that has happened to himself is and his inconsistencies are referable to his capricious divithe best possible illustration of the subject, and he is not the sion of their powers. man to shrink from giving the best possible illustration of

“ Until Cobbett has praised or abused a thing, it is hardbe subject from a squeamish delicacy. He writes himself ly known what may be said for and against it." When his Flain William Cobbett, strips himself quite as naked as any

rancour is not excited, when his singular powers are embody would wish-in a word, his egotism is full of indi ployed in instruction, in adding to the conveniences and widuality, and has room for very little vanity in it. We comforts of society, or the inculcation of moral principles, Enel delighted, rub our hands, and draw our chair to the they work to unmixed advantage, and with such a pervadfire

, when we come to a passage of this sort; we know it ing tone of berer.lence, and so nice an apprehension of will be something new and good, manly and simple, not the every good that is passingly touched on, that a stranger to sative insipid story of self over again.

other performances could hardly suppose the author capable "Mt. Cobbett speaks almost as well as he writes. The of an uncharitable purpose, or an uncharitable enjoyment.” taly time I ever saw him, he seemed to me a very pleasant

--Examiner. ne-easy of access, affable, clear-headed, simple, and PASSAGES FROM COBBETT'S EARLY LIFE. WRITTEN wild in bis manner, deliberate and unruffled in his speech, though some of his expressions were not very qualified. His “At eleven years of age, my employment was clipping off kgure is tall and portly. He has a good sensible face, rather box-edgings and weeding beds of flowers in the garden of fully with little grey eyes

, a hard, square forehead, a ruddy the Bishop of Winchester, at the castle of Farnham, my couplexion, with hair grey or powdered ; and had on a scar- native town. I had always been fond of beautiful gardens; let broad-cloth waistcoat, with the flaps of the pockets hang- and a gardener, who had just come from the King's gardens ing down, as was the custom for gentlemen-farmers in the at Kew, gave such a description of them as made me instantlast century, or as we see it in the pictures of Members of ly resolve to work in these gardens. The next morning, • An ornament worn on the forehead

without saying a word to any one, off I set, with no clothes

BY HIMSELF.

tance.

ment.

except those upon my back, and with thirteen half-pence in nearly fifty serjeants. While my regiment was abroad, I my pocket. I found that I must go to Richmond, and 1 received the public and official thanks of the Governor of accordingly went on, from place to place, enquiring my way the province for my zeal in the king's service; while no thither. A long day (it was in June) brought me to Rich officer of the regiment received any thanks at all. Many mond in the afternoon. Two-penny worth of bread and years after this, this same Governor (General Carleton) cheese, and a penny-worth of small beer, which I had on came to see me, and to claim the pleasure of my acquain. the road, and one half-penny that I had lost somehow or When I quitted the army at Portsmouth, I had 3 other, left three-pence in my pocket. With this for my discharge bearing on it, that I had been discharged at my whole fortune, I was trudging through Richmond, in my own request, and in consequence of the great services I had blue smock frock, and my red garters tied under my knees, rendered the king's service in that regiment. During this when, staring about me, my eye fell upon a little book, in part of my life I lived amongst, and was compelled to assea bookseller's window, on the outside of which was writ- ciate with, the most beastly of drunkards, where liquor was ten, " TALE OF A Tub; PRICE 3d."

The title was so so cheap, that even a soldier might be drunk every day; odd, that my curiosity was excited. I had the 3d., but then yet I never, during the whole time, even lasted of any of I could have no supper. In I went, and got the little that liquor. My father's, and more especially my mother's book, which I was so impatient to read, that I got over precepts were always at hand to protect me. into a field, at the upper corner of Kew gardens, where there “ In 1792 I went to the United States of America. There stood a hay-stack. On the shady side of this I sat down to I became a wriler. I understood little at that time, but read. The book was so different from any thing that I had the utmost of my ability was exerted on the side of a ever read before : it was something so new to my mind country, though I had been greatly disgusted with the trick that, though I could not at all understand some of it, it that had been played me in England, with regard to a delighted me beyond description; and it produced what I court-martial, which I had demanded upon some officers. have always considered a sort of birth of intellect. I read | I forgot every thing when the honour of England was conon till it was dark, without any thought about supper or cerned. The King's minister in America made me offers of bed. When I could see no longer, I put my little book in reward. I refused to accept of any thing, in any shape my pocket and tumbled down by the side of the hay-stack, whatever. Reward was offered me when I came home. where I slept till the birds in Kew gardens awaked me in I always refused to take one single penny from the govern. the morning; when off I started to Kew, reading my lit If I had been to be bought, judge you, my country. tle book. The singularity of my dress, the simplicity of women, how rich, and even how high, I might have been my manner, my confident and lively air, and, doubtless, his at this day! But I value the present received from the own compassion besides, induced the gardener, who was a females of Lancashire a million times higher than all the Scotchman, I remember, to give me victuals, find me lodging, money and all the titles which ministers and kings have and set me to work. And, it was during the period that to bestow. I was at Kew, that the present king and two of his brothers laughed at the oddness of my dress, while I was sweeping “ These cowardly and brutal men (the libellers of the the grass plat round the foot of the pagoda. The gardener, London press) have represented me as being a harsh, tyranseeing me fond of books, lent me some gardening bcoks to nical, passionate. merciless, and even greedy man. I have read; but these I could not relish after my Tale of a Tuh, said before, that, in the whole course of my life, I never which I carried about with me wherever I went, and when was once before a magistrate in any criminal case, either 1, at about twenty years old, lost it in a box that fell over as accuser or accused, and that is a great deal to say, at the boaril in the Bay of Fundy in North America, the loss end of fifty-three years, and having no one to protect or adgave me greater pain than I have ever felt at losing thou- vise me since I was eleven years old. Very few men can sands of pounds.

say as much. There is hardly a Quaker that can say “ This circumstance, trifling as it was, and childish as it as much, thouch he be much younger than I am. I never, may seem to relate it, has always endeared the recollection in the whole course of my life, brought an action against of Keu to me. About five weeks ago, I had occasion to go any man for debt, though I have lost thousands of pounds from Cheltenham to Twickenham with my two eldest sons : hy not doing it. Where is there a man, so long engaged I brought them back through Kew, in order to show them in business of various sorts, as I have been, who can say as the place where the hazj-stack stood, having frequently re- much? I know of no such man. I never could find in lated to them what I have now related to you

my heart to oppress any man merely because he had not “ You have how, and at what age, I started in the world. the ability to pay. I lose money by acting thus; but I did Those of you who are mothers, will want nothing but the not lose my good opinion of myself, and that was far more involuntary impulse of your own hearts to carry your minds valuable than money. Nor have I ever had an action back to the alarn, the fears and anxieties of my most ten- brought against me for debt, in all my lifetime, until since der mother. But if I am “ an extraordinary man,” as I my last return from America ; when an attorney at Bishop's have been called hy some persons, who ought to have found Waltham, in Hampshire, had a writ served upon me, out a different epithet, I was a still more extraordinary boy. without any notice-without even writing to me for the For though I never returned home for any length of time, money. The debt was for about £30; a thing which I had and never put my parents to a farthing in expense after the totally forgotten_ihe malt having been served during the time above mentioned, I was always a most dutiful son, year before I went to America never having, in my whole life, wilfully and deliberately “ I have seven children, the greater part of whom are disobeyed either my father or my mother. I carried in my fast approaching the state of young men and young women. mind their precepts against drinking and gaming; and I I never struck one of them in anger in my life ; and I rehave never been drunk, and have never played at any game collect only one single instance in which I hare erer spoke in my life. When in the army, I was often tempted to to one of them in a reoliy angry tone and manner. And, take up the carus, but the words of my father came into my when I had so done, it appeared as if my heart was gone out mind and rescued me from the peril. Exposed as you must of my body. It was but once; and I hope it will never be well know to all sorts of temptations; young, strong, ad-again. Are there many men who can say as much as this ? venturous, uncommonly gay, and greatly given to talk ; To my servants I have been the most kind and indulgent still I never in my whole life was brought before a ma of'masters; and I have been repaid, in general, by their gistrate either as defendant or complainant. And even up fidelity and attachment. Two consumate villains I have to this hour, about five oaths are all that I have ever taken, get with. But their treachery, though of the blackest dye, notwithstanding the multitude and endless variety of affairs will by no means tend to make me distrustful or ill-temper. in which I have hean engaged. í entered the army at six- ed. The attachment and devotion which I have experienced tecn, and quitted it at treniy.fire. I never was once even from others, exceeds even the perfidy of these two blackaccused of a fault of any sori. At ninelcen I was promot-heartcl men, who, besides, have yet to be rendered as notoed to' Serior.'-Niujor from a Corporal over the heads of rious as they are infamous.

THE STORY-TELLER.

Davy, should always be promptly ready for his superiors, a

and especially for ministers. “ Thank you, sir,” said LITTLE DAVY-A JUVENILE TALE.

Davy, now taking off his bonnet ; “ neither the gudeman, THE Minister of one of the best livings, in point nor the gudewife, ever fash with that; and our minister is of chalders, in the synod of Dumblane, was one autumn

a Seceder, and only targes us on the Carritch. And I have evening, towards the close of the last century, riding leisure nobody to learn me manners now, since the Almighty took ly along by the foot of the green Ochils, homeward-bound

my poor mother.

She would ay say to me, “Be a civil from a presbytery dinner at Stirling, but diverging some obliging laddie, David, and every body will like you ; and thing from his course, to pass a day or two with a landed no fear but ye get a good master. I kent I should take proprietor, the friend of his patron, and former pupil. This off my bonnet to the laird, and the minister, but after this I gentleman had lately married the sister of our minister's will take it off to all gentlemen when I ken them, and ladies pupil, and had just settled on his estate in this part of the too ; 1 ay ken them by their hauding up their gourds," country. Whether the reverend divine merely wished to and ga'en on their taes ; thank you, sir, for bidding me," pay his respects to the lady, whom he had not seen since

-“ And what's your name, my little man ?”—“ Davy, sir, her childhood, or to ascertain the precise state of the “ cough just Davy.”_“ That I know already, but what besides ? and defuxion," which had threatened all spring to carry off what was your father called ?"_“ My father is dead too. the aged incumbent of the parish—in which the manse he was dead before Peter, that is my little brother, was and glebe were some L.15 per annum better than his own; born—the gudeman, the gudewife, and all the men and and whether his sitting-down cold still hung about the lasses just call me Davy, at your service, and so does the incumbent, or if these causes all combined produced the actu- minister.” Our divine bestowed a penny on his guide, and ating motive which led him so far out of his course, it is not in the course of the next forenoon, he related his adventure to tell, certain only it is, that as night began to fall, com to his young hostess, who had'a kind and generous heart. ing to a point where the road divided, he found it prudent “ The little boys, with broad blue bonnets, herding two to question the elder of two boys, who were slowly driving black and white cows,” she said, she had seen the boys frethe cows they herded homeward, down a green loaning. quently in her walks; their mother, who was one of the best "Can you direct me, my man, the road to T- poor women in the country side, had formerly been laundress caid our divine ; and with more frankness, and better breed in the family of which she was now the mistress, and ung than is usual in his age and calling, the elder boy it was one of her husband's tenants, who, at her request, care copious directions. “ I have been there a hundred gave employment and shelter to the orphans. Our ministimes," said he, “ going to Menstrie Fair. Do you see the ter revolved a generous act. He needed an intelligent boy Fir Park yonder?--the park where the cushat's nest is ?- about the age of Davy, who could clean knives, brush shoes, Weel, ye'll just haud down a'blow that, and pass the bour- rub down and water the pony, and go an errand occatries, and next Brownie's well, and then ye come to the sionally to Dunfermline or Alloa when letters were look. stepping-stanes. But maybe ye would like to take the ed for, or wheaten bread, or fresh meat required. “It New Brig? That's the way little Pate and I went to will be an act of great charity," said the lady, delighted to eather redudans* yesternight—may be ye would like some ?" get Davy into such a comfortable home ; and she sent for And here the boy hastily and hospitably produced the deli- him immediately, and introduced him to the minister. “I cury, which, however our divine, in his days of herding, know him very well already,” said Davy; “it is the genmight have relished, had no attractions to a seventeen years' tleman that asked, “Where's your bonnet?!” Davy’s bontriving incumbent, who had now for twice seventeen years net was in his hand now. 6 And you will be pleased to " at at good men's feasts.” But he remembered having go home with him, and do what he bids you till you are very lately heard Colonel Thornton, no mean authority, strong and big enough for other work.”—“ Surely !” cried ironinend a conserve of rowans as a better condiment with Davy; “if he send me to school, like the gudeman, and Either mutton or venison than the Cockney's currant jelly, let me see little Peter on the Saturday.”_" Certainly, asually employed for the same meats ; and he accordingly my little man ; Girzy and myself will give you a lesson tafel the gift into his pockets, meditating experiment. every day in the Bible and your catechism.” * You're a good boy, Davy-is it Davy they call ye?-I Davy longed for the happy day which was to take him to think I know my way now—But where's your bonnet ? the manse, fifteen miles off, and make him the “ minister's --and a Minister speaking to ye?" For, though humble in little man;"_but this did not place him in Goshen. Little his own person, our divine liked to support the dignity of drudges about a kitchen or stable, “ the servants of serthe kirke “Where's my bonnet ?" quoth Davy, rubbing his vants,” are seldom the most fortunate of children. The 3 ss the minister rode off.-“ He must be blind, or he minister was naturally of a selfish and harsh temper, which would have seen my bonnet, just where it should be, on my long waiting for a kirk, and celibacy, had not softened, un bead. If he could not see it, he'll never see the bour- and Girzy was only like too many of the ancient housekeepToes, and the stepping-stanes, and the road to T. ers of old bachelors. That poor Davy could either feel or reTeal Hawkey, Pate, and I'll run after the gentleman, and set flect, more than the three-foot stool on which he sat clean. kun right." The minister was to-night in a very gracious ing knives, never seemed to enter into their minds ; for kumour, and when Davy, out of breath, overtook him, and they cuffed and kicked him about as readily as that piece explained his purpose of becoming his guide, with his rea- of furniture. He was, among his many employments, sent

s, ille clergyman smiled at the simplicity of the boy, and t weed the garden, and if he drew a new-sprung plant in by carefully informed him, that by saying where's your place of a weed, though it was next to impossible for him to annet ? he meant, where is your bow ? which, he instructed know the difference, a thrashing was his sure reward. When • Berries of the mountain-ash

Parasols.

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