sought him to confirm his happiness by an assent to this unequal union. Degrading intimation! Should the honorary tide of princely blood long flowing down the channel of an illustrious ancestry, be contaminated by mingling with plebeian streams? No-he spurned him from his feet, and with a niggard hand, reluctantly conferring a scanty annuity, bade him retire again to ignominious exile, and see his face no more. He was so well acquainted with the inflexibility of his father's temper, when once arrived at a certain point, he knew that the moment of expostulation was past! He was forbidden to return to seek a pardon, even by the narrow path of duty; he therefore felt himself not unhappy, that without a direct breach of parental obligation, he could by the trivial sacrifice of his fortune, obtain the object of his desires. He bade adieu to the scenes of departed affluence, and flew to repose himself on the faithful bosom of domestic affection. The inhabitants of the happy valley celebrated their nuptials with the usual ceremonies, and Lewis soon forgot that he was born to higher expectations.

The storm which had long been gathering over devoted France, at length descended, involving in one general ruin all the pride of prerogative, title and family; the sanguinary streams that flowed from the throne, swollen by a thousand rills, had deluged the nation, and the horrid engine of death still frowned tremendous over its innumerable victims. Not with less terror than the trembling traveller, when he sees the accumulating avalanche thundering from Alpine precipices, in its progress tearing up towering pines, and crushing into atoms the obstructing cottages, the Marquis D'Embleville beheld the approaching desolations! His lady died of a broken heart, to observe the splendour of her family eclipsed, and rescuing a comparative trifle from the wreck of affluence, he hastily left his proscribed country in disguise, and fled towards the regions of ancient Helvetian liberty, where, after long and weary wanderings among those eternal mountains which form the barristers of nations, whose heads, crowned with snows old as the creation, view the turgid clouds rolling round their base, amid the wildest scenes of nature, he experienced the bitter pangs of reflection, without a beam of distant hope to cheer him in his exile. In order to divert the cares that wrung his bosom, he had visited the stupendous cataracts of the Rhine; he had marked the wander. ings of the Emmen and the Reuss; and at length arrived at a charmingly romantic valley, in the neighbourhood of

Lungo. The evening sun shot his yellow rays over olive, orange, and citron groves which clothed the sides of the far-stretched mountains, when he reached a neat little cottage, seated on a gentle declivity, which terminated on the gentle waters of an extensive lake, over which were wafted the softened notes of rustic joy; the villagers were returning from the labours of the day, and here and there appeared in distant groups, winding down the avenues of the vine-clad hills. At the cottage door he was met by two buxom little girls, on whose cheeks bloomed the roses of health, and their dress was such as served, not to decorate, but display the fine symmetry of their features. They made low and graceful curtseys, and then ran in to announce the approach of a stranger. The charming mother came out and modestly welcomed bim to her cottage, where she set before him the best her simple larder afford. ed, together with the choicest fruits the children could procure. He took the infants on his knee, and encouraged their artless prattle by familiar questions and endearments, and from them he learnt that their papa was gone to take a long walk upon the mountains, on which account they were unable to accompany him as usual. Their pleasures, their pastimes and their mode of education, became the general topics of conversation, and the Marquis discovered in this little group, more natural ability and good sense, than he had frequently found in more polished circles. The mother was an intelligent, liberal minded woman, and delivered her sentiments with most agreeable and unaffected simplicity, her whole deportment and conduct evinced the most sacred attachment to the maternal duties, and she spoke with enthusiasm of the enjoyments of retirement and domestic life. The mind of the Marquis was much affected, and it was with apparent difficulty he could conceal the various emotions which struggled in his bosom. The little mountaineers who had been on the tiptoe of expectation for the arrival of their father, now recognized his foot-steps as he approached the door, and running out to welcome him, hung around his knees and danced with excess of rapture, while he distributed between them some flowers and other natural curiosities, indigenious to the soil, which he had picked up in his way. A sudden pleasure seemed to irradiate the lovely countenance of the wife as she introduced her consort to her guest. Had a clap of thunder that moment torn from the summit of the neighbouring mountain the eternal rock which cast a ngth of shade across the lake, and hurled it into the vale

below, a greater degree of astonishment could not have been depicted in the faces of both, than at this unexpected rencounter. The roses fled the cheeks of Maria, while the husband, on his knees, deprecated the forgiveness of that father, of whose displeasure she had formerly heard with so much emotion, and who she fully expected was come to destroy their peace for ever.

He perceived their agitation, but adversity had softened his heart, and all the father returned. For a while he could not speak; but took their hands, and joined them together, while his eyes "looked a blessing." He then snatched the wondering infants to his bosom, and shed over them invo luntary tears. The first tumult this interview occasioned subsiding, a calmer and more solemn scene ensued. The death of Lady Embleville, and the family misfortunes engaged all their attention, and while they listened to the tale of woe, they mutually paid the tribute due to human calamity. The Marquis having now experienced the vicissitudes and fallacy of fortune, acknowledged the superior prudence of his son, in making so judicious a choice, and blessed the Power which so mysteriously disposed him to provide this calm retreat and those domestic comforts, amid which he resolved to spend the evening of his days.

There is no greater proof of human weakness than that which betrays itself in the boast of Fortune and Ancestry; these cannot ennoble us, but our conduct in life may ennoble or degrade them. Humility, therefore, is the only true wisdom by which we prepare our minds for all the possible vicissitudes of life, in bearing in remembrance the uncertain tenure by which we hold our dearest and most valuable of earthly enjoyments.

Adversity! thou all-subduing power!

'Tis thine to bend the stubborn neck of Pride!
From fame and fortune strip the thin disguise,
Instruct the selfish soul itself to know,

And teach submission to the will Divine!

ARTHUR WARWICK ON FRIENDSHIP.

WHEN I see leaves drop from their trees, in the beginning of Autumn, just such, think I, is the friendship of the world. While the sap of maintenance lasts, my friends swarm in abundance, but in the winter of my need, they leave me naked. He is a happy man that hath a true friend at his need; but he is more truly happy that hath no need of his friend..———1637.

ODE TO A SINGING BIRD.
O THOU that glad'st my lonely hours,
With many a wildly warbled song,
When melancholy round me low'rs,
And drives her sullen storm along;
When fell adversity prepares

To lead her delegated train,

Pale sickness, want, remorse, and pain,
With all her host of lurking cares,

The friends ordain'd to tame the human soul,

And give the humbled heart to sympathy's controul.
Sweet soother of my misery, say,

Why dust clap thy joyous wing?
Why dost thou pour thy artless lay?
How canst thou little prisoner, sing?
Hast thou not cause to grieve,
That man, unpitying man, has rent
From thee the boon which nature meant,
Thou should'st as well as he receive?

The power to woo thy partner in the grove, [to rove?
To build, where instinct points, where choice directs
Ere while, when brooding oe'r my soul,
Frown'd the black demons of despair,
Did not thy voice their power controul,
And oft suppress the rising tear?
If Fortune should be kind,

If e'er with affluence I am blest,
I'll often seek some friend distress'd,
And when the weeping wretch I find,
Then tuneful moralist, I'll copy thee,

And solace all his woes with sucial sympathy!

CHRISTIAN, COUNTESS OF DEVONSHIRE WAS a woman of great celebrity, and of singular character. She was extolled for her devotion; and yet she retained Hobbes, as tutor to her son. She kept up the dignity of her rank, and her hospitality: yet so judicious was her economy, that her jointure of 5000l. a year she nearly doubled; and she extricated her son's estate from a vast debt and thirty lawsuits; so that King Charles once said to her, Madam, you have all my Judges at your disposal.' She was the patroness of the wits of that age, who met at her house, and there Waller read his

verses. She was active in the restoration of Charles II., who frequently visited her at Roehampton, with the Queen Dowager and the royal family, with whom she enjoyed an intimacy till her death in 1675.

SCENE NEAR NETHER STOWEY, SOMERSET.
A GREEN and silent spot amid the hills!
A small and silent dell!-O'er stiller place
No singing skylark ever poised himself!
The hills are heathy, save that swelling slope
Which hath a gay and gorgeous covering on,
All golden with the never bloomless furze,
Which now blooms most profusely; but the dell,
Bathed by the mist is fresh and delicate
As vernal corn field, or the unripe flax,

When through its half transparent stalks, at eve,
The level sunshine glimmers with green light.
Oh, 'tis a quiet spirit-healing nook,

Which all methinks, would love; but chiefly he,
The humble man, who in his youthful years
Knew just so much of folly as had made
His early manhood more securely wise:
Here he might lie on fern or wither'd heath,
While from the singing lark (that sings unseen
The minstrelsy which solitude loves best)
And from the sun, and from the breezy air,
Sweet influences trembled o'er his frame;
And he, with many feelings, many thoughts,
Made up a meditative joy, and found
Religious meanings in the forms of nature!
And so his senses gradually wrapp'd

In a half sleep, he dreams of better worlds,
And dreaming, bears thee still, O singing lark!
That singest like an angel in the clouds.

THE CROMWELLS

HAVE long resided at Cheshunt, and in this retired village, the protector, Richard Cromwell, spent many years of a venerable old age; a striking lesson, how much obscurity and peace are to be preferred to the splendid infelicities of guilty ambition. He assumed the name of Clark, and first resided in 1680, in a house near the church: and here he died, in 1712, in his 80th year; enjoying a good state of health to the last, and so hale and hearty,