flection. Many an adventurer, now wandering under sickly skies in remote parts of the habitable globe, would give worlds had he only taken the view of his original circumstances indicated in the fine concluding line

There is a fine vein of philosophy touched upon in this last couplet, which is eminently calculated to promote habits of carefulness and study in young writers. The late Dr. Aiken, or some other distinguished critic, name not known, has very

XI.

How much that passes current by the name
Of virtue, is th' effect of chance,
And owes its lustre all to circumstance,
As glass mocks diamond set in gold the same.
Yon damsel pacing on in gay attire,

Braving men's pity and her sex's scorn, With reckless front without, within forlorn, Judge not too harshly. Dress she may admire Whose trade it was to make it; for the rest, Thou seest she still is young, and has been fair,

Though all is faded but her raven hairThe story of her shame is easy guessed: Young hopeful heart, with hopeless toil contending,

Was the beginning of this wretched ending.

Oh, what a heaven upon earth this mortal state will be when the whole human race shall have settled down into one vast Fourierite phalanx! When the curse of labor shall have been avoided by the invention of man, and all intelligent existences shall vie with each other in acts of goodness and benevolence! When there shall be no sin-no temptation! Glorious -GLORIOUS! But in the mean time we must eat a little somewhat every day; and it is very hard for a man even to be copperless and alone in a great city. Truly it is wonderful that the world takes

care of itself so well as it does.

XII.

All honor to the great brave bards of yore, Who wrote what they had thought and felt

not sham; What manly pride old Ford had known-"I

am

A gentleman free born, I never wore
The rags of any great men's looks, nor fed

Upon their aftermeals!" Impetuous fire
So burns in lines like these, that they inspire
A sympathetic rapture, as 'tis said
Their faces glow who talk with angels. Yet
"Tis fire that flows through words of melody,
A spoken song, of which the mastery
They only who toil patiently can get.
Thus Labor's gain helps Genius win the day,

they may dare most who can best obey.

rarely obtained in any department of human labor without much persevering study," a maxim which cannot be too frequently or too impressively inculcated upon those who feel a desire to distinguish themselves in the pursuits of literature.

The same contemplative spirit which appears in the above will be found to characterize the following little morceau, and perhaps, if the expression may be pardoned, a little more so :

trees,

That swing and bend, like feeble daffodils. I'd no idea 'twould clear before to-morrow,

The morning was so stormy. From a friend This old umbrella 'twas my fate to borrow,-A green one 'tis, of him that did it lend An emblem apt. It shall with me remain A souvenir. Perhaps 'twill rain again.

The reader will not fail to observe the

remarkable degree of similarity which obtains between this and the one commencing "Fremont, when I," &c., indicating it to be the production of the same hand. The peculiar turn of mind, an ardent imagination checked rather abruptly by a solid fabric of good sense, is identical in both examples.

XIV.

When shops are shut, and streets are thronged

no more,

The poor man moves his household stuff. The cart

That holds it all, he pushes slow before

His wife, with baby wrapped up at her heart And leading by the hand their three years' child,

Walks on, not far behind. They do not ask

nerves

Could never bear the irksome press of care, And Hope, that often meanest cowards serves, Ne'er built for him fine houses in the air.

While still, with such, so hard the world doth

go,

No fear that I shall old and merry grow!

But while contemplating these melancholy scenes, we should remember not to sorrow as those without hope. For all the evils attendant upon social inequality, there is balm in Gilead-consolation in Fourier! a "good time" is on its way hither, and when it comes we shall have one. The reader's respectful attention is requested, in view of these things, to the quotation which will be found appended to the remarks upon the sonnet next succeeding. Unless the present writer be mistaken in his opinion, this quotation, especially its last sentence, enunciates eternal truth, and is as applicable now as when originally committed to paper.

sible editor, but has since been generally attributed to Joseph Addison, a gentleman employed in his office :

"I could never read any of our modish French authors, or those of our own country,

who are the imitators and admirers of that trifling nation, without being for some time out of humor with myself and everything about me. Their business is to depreciate human nature and consider it under its worst appearances. They give mean intepretations and base motives to the worthiest actions: they resolve virtue and vice into constitution. In short, they endeavor to make no distinction between man and man, or between the species of men and that of brutes."

Or deeper than the deepest dipsey lines Or wells Artesian. Yet I hold them cheap, Because I know that I can fish up more.

Here's one, an eighty fathom thought at least,

I'll sell, or give 't away, no matter which; As thus: "I think (what ne'er was thought before)

My happiness in life would be increased
If I could be a little grain more rich!"

The idea that the accession of wealth to an individual, by affording him the means of supplying his physical necessities and surrounding himself with the ordinary comforts of existence, may increase his happiness, is far from being the novelty here apparently supposed. The rudest savage, as he roams the uninhabited wilds of his native deserts, feels more secure in proportion as his quiver is filled with serviceable

arrows; for he can then as he wanders

"On Torno's cliffs or Pambamarca's side," without intimidation the or by the banks of "wild Oswego," hear

"Wolf's long howl on Oonalaska's shore!"

Such are some of the advantages attendant upon affluence in the earliest states of society. As we look through the history

of the gradual development of mankind, and contemplate the race in all its stages of improvement, the same advantages, modified by the peculiar circumstances of each condition, will be perceived to present themselves to the consideration of humanity under every conceivable phase of Progress. It would be pleasant to trace the history of the species through the various gradations, and thus to demonstrate the necessity of property, and the desirableness of accumulated products; but we must decline entering upon the subject at present, owing to a want of time and the pressure of conflicting engagements.

XVII.

O happy month! O month of all the year
The most auspicious. Now I'm certain sure
Whatever I may do or what endure,
This month, will turn out well. I need not fear
The pangs of love despised, the law's delay,

The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit takes. Coughs, colds, or
burns,

Heartaches or fevers, need not me dismay,
Nor all the natural shocks that flesh inherits.
I may both happier, wiser, richer grow-
I cannot tell. This much I only know-
Success, at last, will crown my modest merits.
For why? I saw-I am not two days older
Since then-the new moon over my right
shoulder!

Paring the nails of the left hand on Fridays is said to be a certain preventive of the toothache; of this, however, the writer is not fully convinced, never having been able to satisfy himself with regard to the nature of the connection between an isolated

act performed at a particular time, and the dental nerves of sensation. But that the omen here alluded to is to be relied upon, repeated personal observation leaves no shadow of doubt; though to the inexperienced it will probably appear mere moonshine. Wordsworth, the poet, has somewhere observed that for his part he would rather be "a pagan suckled in a creed outworn" (that, if the writer's memory serve, is the expression) than to be incapable of fancying the existence of supernatual in

fluences.

Hiding the radiant sky above-how soon The sun of Hope can scatter them away, And cheer the soul with heavenly pictures rare Of joys beyond us, castles in the air.

In this sonnet the picture presented to the eye resembles that in the one commencing "The noonday shower, &c. ;" but this has reference to a longer succession of unpleasant weather, and its final breaking up, not as seen in the confined streets of a city, but over a wide extent of surface, in an agricultual district. The comparison of the warm bursts of sunshine to blushes, betokens a spirit not insensible to one of the most attractive charms of the Fair Sex.

One would hardly expect to find such delicacy of perception conjoined with a taste so gross and homely as is indicated by the following :—

XIX.

Fried onions! Astor Place! Delightful whiff—
Though unexpected, grateful yet no less
To me the perfume of that sav'ry mess,
Which, when I smell, I almost question if
I'm not translated. No Arabian gale

Whose spicy odors make old ocean smile,
Of marineres who Indiaward do sail,
Did ever so the weary hearts beguile
Beyond the Cape of Hope, as that does mine.
For still its faintest breath recalls to me
The story of the Cid Benengeli-
Thy health, Sir Knight; bold Sancho Pan.
thine-

I seem to taste the antique flavored wine,
And, in imagination, with ye dine.

From this it would appear that the fragrance of the article of diet of which men

tion is made had been detected at the

Italian opera. If so, it probably came from the stage or the orchestra, and was in reality occasioned by garlic, a seasoning which the medium classes of the Eurepean continent are much in the habit of using.

O how much more doth sweetness sweeter seem When stol'n-light more light in sudden gleam!

With this, which will remind many, by reason of a similarity in the last couplet, of one of Shakspeare's sonnets, the writer will for the present conclude. How far his feeble efforts may have been successful in supplying the desideratum which has long been severely felt by our youthful poets, he leaves to the unbiassed judgment of a discriminating public. Should he however be found to have contributed to the rational enjoyment of his readers, it is not impossible but that he may be encouraged to further efforts hereafter. Under this half promise he now takes leave, feeling that the less is said on the subject the better. For what observes the learned Don Adriano de Armado ?

"The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo. You, that way; we, this way." G. W. P.

POSTSCRIPTUM.

Having been waited on, since the conclusion of the foregoing, by a diabolical messenger from the superintendent of the typographical department of this periodical, requesting the immediate furnishing of an amount of similar material sufficient to occupy the remaining space on the constrained to subjoin the following very present page, the writer finds himself pathetic ballad. Lest it should prove too affecting for his fair readers, he will inform them that the incident described is purely imaginary, and without the slightest foundation in actual fact. The youth, whose fate is here recorded, left no afflicted relatives to mourn his untimely decease. Still, his case is not an impossible one, and the well regulated mind, in considering the circumstances, may derive an instructive lesson from his example. In all stations of life, how necessary to security is constant circumspection!

THE DANGERS OF EARLY RISING.

A lad stood on a ladder tall,
A painting of a sign-

A new short sign; and 'Lang Syne Auld'
He whistled: the sun did shine.

And tune or sun moved snow on roof,

Unused to melting mood;

It slid and peeped o'er eaves above,
Eaves-dropping where he stood.

He, gazing down on Miss beneath,

Dreamed not mischance was near, But held his bucket in his hand,

And brushed a silent T R.

He was a painter's 'prentice boy,
I need not print his name;
He came of high descent indeed,
But now 'tis all the same.

For ah! the snow, too soon it fell,
As if with fell design;

He kicked the bucket, down he dropped;
He died and made no sign!