I thought the spirit of the dawn

Before me to the greenwood flew.
Even then the shaft was on the wing,

That spotless soul from earth to sever;
A tear of pity wet the string

That twang'd and sealed thy doom for ever.

I saw thee late the emblem fair

Of beauty, innocence, and truth,

Start tiptoe on the verge of air,

"Twixt childhood and unstable youth. But now I see thee stretch'd at rest,

To break that rest shall wake no morrow;

Pale as the grave-flower on thy breast!
Poor child of love, of shame, and sorrow,
May thy long sleep be sound and sweet,
Thy vision fraught with bliss to be;
And long the daisy, emblem meet,

Shall shed its earliest tear o'er thee.

222

THE MISSISSIPPI SCHEME.

THE projector of this celebrated scheme was one John Law, the son of a goldsmith in Edinburgh, where he was born about the year 1681. Having a natural turn for calculation, he soon made himself a proficient in numbers, and while very young obtained the confidence of the king's minister for Scotland, so far as to be employed to arrange the revenue accounts, which were in great disorder before the union of the two kingdoms. In order to remedy the want of a circulating medium in Scotland, he proposed the establishment of a bank, which might issue paper money to the value of all lands in the kingdom; this scheme was, however, too bold for adoption.

In 1704, Law's father died and left him a small estate near Edinburgh. He soon imbibed a love of gaming, and thus endeavoured to supply the deficiencies of his income by his skill at the table. In one of his gaming broils he killed Beau Wilson, whom he had challenged to a duel; soon after which he fled the country. He now visited Venice and Genoa; but here his superior dexterity and numerical skill caused him to be shunned as a sharper. He, however, contrived to support himself by these means in his rambles through Italy, and at Turin he endeavoured to entrap the Duke of Savoy, with a new financial system but the duke prudently declined his services, assert

ing that his dominions were too small for the plans of so extensive a genius. He next visited Paris, where his schemes were rejected by the ministers of Louis XIV. but the regency of the duke of Orleans was much more favourable to him. He first established a bank of 1200 shares of 3000 livres each, by royal authority in 1716, and so firmly was its credit established that the shares soon bore a premium. Annexed to it was a Mississippi company which had grants of land in Lousiana, and was expected to realise an immense sum by planting and commerce. In 1718 it was declared a royal bank, and by a number of advantages arbitrarily conferred on it, so great was the extent of its business and funds that its shares rose to twenty times their original value. All France was now seized with the rage for gambling in its funds, and thousands of adventurers poured hourly into the grand field of enterprise. In 1720 Law was made comptroller of the finances, and he now imagined that the golden dreams of his youth were realized. His vanity rose with his circumstances to a most disgusting enormity. Pub lic confidence appeared to be established,and the Parisians dreamed of nothing short of their national debt being swept away. In the midst of this delusion the fabric tottered, and the bubble burst: the shares sunk hourly in value, and the hoax could no longer be disguised. Law did not enrich himself by the scheme, but was compelled to resign his post after holding it five months. Thousands were now reduced to beggary, and the projector had nearly fallen a victim to public execration. He spent the remainder of his life in comparative obscurity and after visiting England, Holland, and Germany, died at Venice in 1729, in distressed circumstances.

Such is the outline of the career of one of the most enterprising speculators of the last century. Short as it was it was sufficient to enforce a valuable lesson to mankind in all ages, by illustrating the superior satisfaction and enjoyment which result from regular habits and industrious inclinations. It is a common error of mankind to confound what may be called the speedily earned splendour of public life with diligence and undivided perseverance. The one builds castles in the air, while the other realizes little by little the most solid comforts for the wintry quarter of life. Plodding industry is therefore preferable to that restless spirit of speculation and enterprise which proved the rock on which the fortunes

of Law may be said to have foundered. All happiness is dependent on equanimity of mind which regulates our pursuits, and thus leads us progressively to the highest enjoyment.

222

GINEVRA.

FROM 'ITALY,' A POEM. BY S. ROGERS, ESQ.
Fever you should come to Modeva,

(Where, among other relics, you may see
Tassoni's bucket-but 'tis not the true one)
Stop at a palace near the Reggio-gate,
Dwelt in of old by one of the Donati.

Its noble gardens, terrace above terrace,
And rich in fountains, statues, cypresses,
Will long detain you-but before you go,
Enter the house-forget it not, I pray you—
And look awhile upon a picture there.
"Tis of a lady in her earliest youth,
The last of that illustrious family;
'Done by Zampieri-but-by whom I care not-
He who observes it, ere he passes on,
Gazes his fill, and comes and comes again,
That he may call it up, when far away.
She sits, inclining forward as to speak,
Her lips half open and her finger up,

As though she said 'Beware! Her vest of gold
Broidered with flowers, and clasped from head to foot,
An emerald-stone in every golden clasp;

And on her brow, fairer than alabaster,

A coronet of pearls.

But then her face,
So lovely, yet so arch, so full of mirth.
The overflowings of an innocent beart-
It haunts me still, tho' many a year has fled,
Like some wild melody!

Alone it hangs
Over a mouldering heir-loom, its companion,
An oaken-chest, half-eaten by the worm,
But richly carved by Antony of Trent,
With scripture stories from the Life of Christ;
A chest that came from Venice, and had held
The ducal robes of some old ancestor-
That by the way-it may be true or false-
But don't forget the picture; and you will not,
When you have heard the tale they told me there.

She was an only child-her name Ginevra,
The joy, the pride of an indulgent father;
Aud in her fifteenth year became a bride,
Marrying an only son, Francesco Doria,
Her playmate from her birth, and her first love.
Just as she looks there in her bridal dress
She was-all gentleness, all gaiety;

Her pranks the favourite theme of every tongue.
But now the day was come, the day, the hour;
Now frowning, smiling for the hundredth time,
The nurse, that ancient lady, preached decorum;
And, in the lustre of her youth, she gave
Her hand, with her heart in it, to Francesco.

Great was the joy; but at the nuptial feast,
When all sat down, the bride herself was wanting.
Nor was she to be found! Her father cried,
"Tis but to make a trial of our love!'

Andfilled his glass to all; but his hand shook,
And soon from guest to guest the panic spread.
"Twas but that instant she had left Francesco,
Laughing and looking back, and flying still,
Her ivory tooth imprinted on his finger.
But now, alas! she was not to be found;
Nor from that hour could any thing be guessed,
But that she was not!

Weary of his life,
Francesco flew to Venice, and, embarking,
Flang it away in battle with the Turk,
Donati lived and long might you have seen
An old man wandering as in quest of something,
Something he could not find he knew not what,
When he was gone, the house remained awhile
Silent and tenantless-then went to strangers.
Full fifty years were past and all forgotten,
When on an idle day, a day of search,
'Mid the old lumber in the gallery,

That mouldering chest was noticed; and 'twas said,
By one as young, as thoughtless as Ginevra,
Why not remove it from its lurking place?"
"Twas done as soon as said; but on the way
It burst, it fell; and lo! a skeleton,

With here and there a pearl, an emerald-stone,
A golden clasp, clasping a shred of gold,
All else had perished-save a wedding ring
And a small seal, her mother's legacy,

D

Engraven with a name, the name of both,
'Ginevra.' There then had she found a grave!
Within that chest had she concealed herself,
Fluttering with joy, the happiest of the happy;
When a spring-lock, that lay in ambush there,
Fastened her down for ever!

31121

LOVE OF BURIAL PLACES,

MANY of the wisest and best of men have signalized their love of gardens and shrubberies, by causing themselves to be buried in them. Plato was buried in the groves of Academus; Sir William Temple gave orders for his heart to be enclosed in a silver casket, and then placed under a sun-dial, opposite his library window. Dercennus, one of the kings of Latium, was buried in a thick wood, on the top of a high mountain: Rousseau was buried in the island of Poplars, in the gardens of Ermenonville: Horne Took cwas buried in his own garden and Napoleon Bonaparte often walked to a fountain in the island of St. Helena, and said to his confidential companions, If it is destined that I die on this rock, let me be buried in this place,' pointing to some willows near the fountain he so frequently visited. ut quilts.

HATRED.

THE greatest flood has the soonest ebb; the sorest tempest the most sudden calm; the hottest love the coldest end; and from the deepest desire oftentimes ensues the deadliest hate.-A wise man had rather be envied for Providence, than pitied for prodigality.-Revenge barketh only at the stars, and spite spurns at that she cannot reach. An envious man waxeth lean with the fatness of his neighbours.-Envy is the daughter of pride, the author of murder and revenge, the beginner of secret sedition, and the perpetual tormentor of virtue.-Envy is the filthy slime of the soul; a venom, a poison, or quicksilver which consumeth the flesh, and drieth up the marrow of the bones.-Socrates.