His lordship very kindly said he 'd try and find him out, But he "rather thought that there were several vulgar boys about."

He sent for Mr. Whithair then, and I described "the swag," My Mackintosh, my sugar-tongs, my spoons, and carpet-bag; He promised that the New Police should all their powers employ ;

But never to this hour have I beheld that vulgar boy!

MORAL.

Remember, then, what when a boy I've heard my grandma'

tell,

"BE WARNED IN TIME BY OTHERS' HARM, AND YOU SHALL DO FULL WELL!"

Don't link yourself with vulgar folks, who've got no fixed abode,

Tell lies. use naughty words, and say they "wish they may be blowed!"

Don't take too much of double X !-and don't at night go out To fetch your beer yourself, but make the pot-boy bring your stout!

And when you go to Margate next, just stop and ring the bell, Give my respects to Mrs. Jones, and say I'm pretty well!

Ex. LXV.-THE MAID OF THE INN.

SOUTHEY

WHO is she, the poor maniac, whose wildly-fixed eyes
Seem a heart overcharged to express ?

She weeps not, yet often and deeply she sighs;
She never complains, yet her silence implies
The composure of settled distress.

No aid, no compassion the maniac will seek;
Cold and hunger awake not her care;

Through the rags do the winds of the winter blow bleak
On her poor withered bosom, half-bare; and her cheek
Has the deadly pale hue of despair.

Yet cheerful and happy, nor distant the day,
Poor Mary, the maniac, has been;

The traveler remembers, who journeyed this way,
No damsel so lovely, no damsel so gay,

As Mary, the maid of the inn.

Her cheerful address filled the guests with delight,
As she welcomed them in with a smile;
Her heart was a stranger to childish affright,
And Mary would walk by the abbey at night,

When the wind whistled down the dark aisle.

She loved; and young Richard had settled the day,
And she hoped to be happy for life;

But Richard was idle and worthless, and they
Who knew her, would pity poor Mary, and say
That she was too good for his wife.

'T was in autumn, and stormy and dark was the night, And fast were the windows and doors;

Two guests sat enjoying the fire that burned bright,
And, smoking in silence, with tranquil delight,
They listened to hear the wind roar.

""T is pleasant," cried one, "seated by the fireside, To hear the wind whistle without."

"A fine night for the abbey," his comrade replied,
"Methinks a man's courage would now be well tried
Who should wander the ruins about.

"I, myself, like a school-boy, should tremble to hear
The hoarse ivy shake over my head;
And could fancy I saw, half-persuaded by fear,
Some ugly old abbot's white spirit appear;

66

For this wind might awaken the dead."

"I'll wager a dinner," the other one cried,
"That Mary would venture there now."
"Then wager and lose," with a sneer, he replied,
"I'll warrant she'd fancy a ghost by her side,
And faint, if she saw a white cow."

"Will Mary this charge on her courage allow ?"
His companion exclaimed with a smile;

"I shall win; for I know she will venture there now, And earn a new bonnet by bringing a bough

From the alder that grows in the aisle.”

With fearless good humor did Mary comply,
And her way to the abbey she bent;

The night it was dark, and the wind it was high,
And, as hollowly howling, it swept through the sky,
She shivered with cold as she went.

O'er the path, so well known, still proceeded the maid,
Where the abbey rose dim on the sight;

Through the gateway she entered, she felt not afraid,
Yet the ruins were lonely and wild, and their shade
Seemed to deepen the gloom of the night.

All around her was silent, save when the rude blast
Howled dismally round the old pile;

Over weed-covered fragments still fearless she passed,
And arrived at the innermost ruin at last,

Where the alder-tree grows in the aisle.

Well pleased did she reach it, and quickly drew near,
And hastily gathered the bough,-

When the sound of a voice seemed to rise on her ear,-
She paused, and she listened, all eager to hear,
And her heart panted fearfully now.

The wind blew; the hoarse ivy shook over her head ;—
She listened; naught else could she hear.

The wind ceased; her heart sunk in her bosom with dread,
For she heard in the ruins-distinctly—the tread
Of footsteps approaching her near.

Behind a wide column, half breathless with fear,
She crept to conceal herself there;

That instant the moon o'er a dark cloud shone clear,
And she saw in the moonlight two ruffians appear,
And between them-a corpse did they bear!

Then Mary could feel her heart's blood curdle cold!
Again the rough wind hurried by,-

It blew off the hat of the one, and, behold!
Even close to the feet of poor Mary it rolled !—
She fell-and expected to die!

"Curse the hat!" he exclaims; "Nay, come on, and first hide The dead body," his comrade replies ;

She beheld them in safety pass on by her side,
She seizes the hat, fear her courage supplied,
And fast through the abbey she flies.

She ran with wild speed, she rushed in at the door,
She gazed horribly eager around;

Then her limbs could support their faint burden no more,
And exhausted and breathless, she sunk on the floor,
Unable to utter a sound.

Ere yet her pale lips could the story impart,
For a moment the hat met her view;-

Her eyes from that object convulsively start,

For, O God! what cold horror thrilled through her heart, When the name of her Richard she knew!

Where the old abbey stands, on the common hard by,
His gibbet is now to be seen;

Not far from the inn it engages the eye,
The traveler beholds it, and thinks, with a sigh,
Of poor Mary, the maid of the inn.

Ex. LXVI-LOVE OF COUNTRY AND HOME.

JAMES MONTGOMERY.

THERE is a land, of every land the pride,
Beloved by Heaven o'er all the world beside;
Where brighter suns dispense serener light,
And milder moons emparadise the night;-
There is a spot of earth supremely blest,
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest,
Where man, creation's tyrant, casts aside
His sword and scepter, pageantry and pride,
While in his softened looks benignly blend

The sire, the son, the husband, brother, friend;

"Where shall that land, that spot of earth, be found ?" Art thou a man ?--a patriot ?-look around!

O, thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam,
That land thy country, and that spot thy home!

On Greenland's rocks, o'er rude Kamschatka's plains, In pale Siberia's desolate domains;

When the wild hunter takes his lonely way,
Tracks through tempestuous snows his savage prey,
Or, wrestling with the might of raging seas,
Where round the pole the eternal billows freeze,
Plucks from their jaws the stricken whale, in vain
Plunging down headlong through the whirling main,
His wastes of snow are lovelier in his eye
Than all the flowery vales beneath the sky;
And dearer far than Cæsar's palace-dome,
His cavern-shelter, and his cottage-home.

O'er China's garden-fields and peopled floods,
In California's pathless world of woods;

Round Andes' heights, where winter, from his throne,
Looks down in scorn upon the summer zone;
By the gay borders of Bermuda's isles,
Where spring with everlasting verdure smiles;
On pure Madeira's vine-robed hills of health;
In Java's swamps of pestilence and wealth;
Where Babel stood, where wolves and jackals drink,
'Midst weeping willows, on Euphrates' brink;
On Carmel's crest; by Jordan's reverend stream,
Where Canaan's glories vanished like a dream;
Where Greece, a specter, haunts her heroes' graves,
And Rome's vast ruins darken Tiber's waves;
Where broken-hearted Switzerland bewails
Her subject mountains and dishonored vales;
Where Albion's rocks exult amidst the sea,
Around the beauteous isle of liberty;—
Man, through all ages of revolving time,
Unchanging man, in every varying clime,
Deems his own land of every land the pride,
Beloved by Heaven o'er all the world beside;
His home the spot of earth supremely blest,
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest!

Ex. LXVII.-MEN WHO NEVER DIE.

EDWARD EVERETT.

WE dismiss them not to the chambers of forgetfulness and death. What we admired, and prized, and venerated in them, can never be forgotten. I had almost said that they are now beginning to live; to live that life of unimpaired