Corn. "Indian corn." In England it comprises all the Cerealia, used for bread; hence, corn laws"- -corn market." When applied to the food of the horse in England it means oats singly."what have you done do?" Only heard Corn blades-the leaves of Indian corn. Southern States.

Creature. Much employed in New-is England for horses, oxen &c.; this extensive signification is probably obtained from Ireland. In Virginia, the word is often restricted to the horse. "I've got no creature to ride."

Creek. "A small river." and middle states.

when, at last, we turn to depart, it seems as if nature had altered its aspect, and that no other being in the world could supply the loss of that which had faded, as it were, from our sight.

other scholars for breaking, what they call, the rules or orders of the school. The ceremony is also resorted to, when a woman has gained an improper ascendancy over her husband, so as to make him bear every species of indignity. In this case, it Lucy experienced this feeling the more is called, "riding the stang for a neigh-intensely that it was new to her. Whilst bour's wife." A man is placed in the a glimpse of the stage could be seen, she same uneasy situation as before described, stood with the tears slowly gathering in her so that he may be supposed to represent, eyes, gazing on the one object that absorbor to sympathize with, his hen pecked ed her thoughts. And when she gave way friend, whose misery he sometimes la- to affliction, in solitude, the hopes of the ments in doggrel rhyme, applicable to the preceding day seemed to mock her feelings.

occasion.

He is carried through the whole neighbourhood, with a view of exposing or shaming the lady and thus preventing farther outrages on the person of her suffering spouse.

The morning was raw, and damp, and before she had been summoned from her retreat by Mrs. Mostyn, our heroine had already exposed herself to a severe cold. During all that day, affairs wore a very different aspect from what they had exhibited on the preceding., The reserved and haughty manners of Mrs. Mostyn, the rude

This mark of disgrace would appear to be of antient origin. The Goths were wont to erect, what they called the nidstang or pole of infamy, with the most dire impre-ness and folly of many of the younger cations against the person, who was thought to have deserved the punishment. He, who was subjected to this dishonor, was called niding, or the infamous, and was disqualified from ever giving evidence in any juridical matter. RD. I

LUCY ALLYNNE.
A tale in three chapters-CHAPTER II.

We, Hermia, like two artificial gods,
Have with our neelds created both one flower,
Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion,
Both warbling of one song, both in one key;
As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds,
Had been incorporate. So we grew together,
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted;
But yet a union in partition,
Two lovely berries moulded on one stem:
Mid-Nights' Dream.

2 Servt, Nay I knew by his face that there was something in him: he had, Sir, a kind of face, wethought,-I cannot tell how to term it.

1. Serv. He had so; looking, as it were,Would I were hanged, but thought there was more in him than I could think.

girls, and the levity of some among the elder, were unpleasant to Lucy. Even trifling things had power to give her pain. It seemed as if she had been suddenly endowed with a nicer perception of the coarse and unsightly, and wondered that every thing at home, even to the articles of domestic use, should possess so much symmetry.

As her cold increased, and brought with it the lowness and stupor attendant upon fever, matters grew worse. Mrs Mostyn was kind, but it was a formal kindness, scrupulously dealt to all like, and measured to the occasion with the accuracy of a medical prescription. This was very different to what Lucy had been accustomed. What was worse, she had no experience to tell her that the mind would quickly adapt itself to its situation, and hide all that was unsightly under its own flowers. This want of experience in the

2. Serv. So did I, I'll be sworn: he is simply young, united to their more acute sen

the rarest man i' the world.

Coriolanus.

Among the occurrences of life which suggest to us emotions of melancholy, there are few more lively in this respect than the gradual withdrawing of a carriage that conveys from us a valued friend. There is something inexpressibly affecting in the first transition from bustle to solitude; our feelings increase with the separation, and

sibility, and ready imagination, makes the first parting from home a very serious evil; many a new-breeched-exile feels as deeply on this first expatriation, as he would, in after life, if banished to Siberia.

The next day Alice Mostyn returned from a visit. She appeared to feel the deepest anxiety for Lucy; sat by her bed side, and told her a thousand amusing anecdotes of their neighbours.

As the fever abated the colouring of

things began to improve. Lucy's spirits they passed through the town, Alice pointreturned; and her mind, urged by the ru-ed out Lieutenant Murray; who, with a ling wish to relieve her mother, whom, party of young officers, was talking to three since their separation, she loved more ten-elegantly dressed ladies. The dashing derly than ever, saw affairs in a different light. She had got a motive for exertion, and exertion, she soon found, was another name for happiness.

One day, after Alice had been amusing Lucy with some ridiculous caricature, she felt her spirits more than usually buoyant. "Well! I have got a friend now, and with a friend I could endure any evil. The world from all I have seen of it, is well enough to those who are young;" Lucy hesitated, and added, laughing, "except when our friends leave us, or when we have a fever. What a delightful thing is friendship! there is certainly something in the eye; and an expression in the voice that enables us to read the heart. I have known Alice but a day, and I already love her as a sister. Mamma told me to be very cautious in my friendships, and so I intend to be, but we cannot help loving those we know to be good." And, as Lucy said this she thought of the faces which looked at her in her dream, and of the music that floated upon the air, and she heaved a scarcely audible sigh, and began humming, unconsciously, to herself.

"To catch the rapture of thy tongue The music of thy speaking.' when the voice of Alice was heard over her shoulder.

appearance of the latter, excited a feeling approaching to envy, perhaps to jealousy, in Lucy's bosom. She did not think them very handsome, but she feared that her timid and retiring nature could never attain the elegant ease and self-possession of these ladies. At this moment Alice whispered something in her ear which made her tremble; and when she looked again at the fashionable party, it was with feelings of disgust and horror.

"Well Lucy," said Alice, as they retired that evening to their chamber," does your heart still beat for Lieutenant Murray?"

"It never did beat for him Alice ?" replied Lucy, laughing and blushing.

"No, I dare say not! and you never rose from your warm bed as a second Juliet !— she was just fourteen you know Lucy!" "But I shall be sixteen next January!" (it was then May.")

"Don't you wish it was night Lucy? He will certainly sing to night,

"Gallop apače, you fiery footed steeds,
And bring in cloudy night immediately.
Spread thy close curtain, love performing night,
That run-away's eyes may wink; and Romeo
Sing to his love, untalked of and unseen."

"I don't think it was he who sang Alice, the sentiment was too delicate."

"Oh certainly not! so sensual a man as Lieutenant Murray could never reach such

Its own enchanted woods among

The nightingale is seeking
To catch the magic of thy tongue
The music of thy speaking!
Come! come! own Lucy that you love
the dear poodle."

"Upon my word Lucy I did not know you had such deep cause for sorrow; I really thought it was only your mother leav-truth and nature, ing us that had thrown you into a fever. "The music of thy speaking," very pretty indeed, and well adapted to the rest of the words, I found them the other day in pencil in your bed room, did he write them?" Lucy blushed deeply, but she was a candid girl, and having little to betray, told Alice all that had passed regarding Lieutenant Murray and the serenade. friend recognized the person spoken of, and told some anecdotes respecting Lieutenant Murray that shocked Lucy, and made her doubt whether poodle heads, and sweet voices were such sure indications of belonging to that great class of mankind, (so Lucy thought it,) the good, as she had before been inclined to imagine.

Her

Lucy was weil enough in a few days to take an afternoon walk with the girls. As

"How strangely you talk Alice! I am just beginning school, and is it not out of all question that I should think of love yet? Indeed! indeed! I have told you the truth of Lieutenant Murray; I never thought more of him than as a pleasant man; but love you know Alice is"-here Lucy stammered a little, and, not having a better excuse for silence, threw back her well turned neck, and grasping, with one hand, her flowing hair, that almost reached to the floor, began with the other, to comb the locks tell they shone like the sleek ra

ven's wing. But her tormentor had reasons for not letting her escape this way, so throwing herself into an easy chair in a state of negligent deshabelle, that showed a white bosom to much advantage, Alice continued her interrogatories.

"Well! and what is love like ?" "Oh quite another thing! Though I am sure I never felt it for any one-but-" "But who?"

"Mamma and you Alice; which you know is not love at all, but affection." "And you really, then, never felt love that was love?”

"Never! I assure you," and she took the comb out of her hair, to make the assevetation more striking. "I never was in love with any one, and I never could be with a man who gambles-who-poor thing!-how shocking!—did you say her name was Ellen ?

"Nonsense child" replied Alice, who, quite satisfied upon one point, began to feel a little sore upon another, "you know nothing of the world, those men always have the best hearts who are just a very little wicked."

which could be instruments of her success,
As it is the want of a sufficient motive which
renders labour irksome; so its presence
can supply almost supernatural powers. It
is this which made the artists of ancient
Greece, and of Italy in the middle ages,
surpass what men have since been able to
effect. They had motives which exist in a
less degree now.
Their works were to be
adored; they were types of divinity, capa-
ble of impressing with awe even those by
whose hands they were fashioned.

Something of this kind entered into the feelings of Lucy. Her purpose was a holy one; she felt how much she could love another who had acted thus, and her bosom swelled at the thought of making that imaginary other her future self.

When the labours of the day were done, it was the custom of the school, for the girls to take an evening walk. They commonly chose those delicious lanes, or rather paths, with close green hedges, and white gates, that are to be found in the neighbourhood of Newport, and which lead to meadows upon whose vivid green the eye delights to repose.

Lucy had too much good sense to agree Here the younger girls amused themto this doctrine. "A very little wicked selves with games, whilst the elder strolled Alice?" would you call a man more hand- arm in arm along the velvet turf, and gathsome for being a very little ugly? And is ered wild flowers, or spoke of their mutual it, indeed! so little to entice people into affections, or of their own homes and amusements that you may rob them? Or, friends. Lucy delighted to hear others talk -oh dreadful! No never! never! I might of these things, but home was an unpleasforgive a man who injured another in busi- ant theme to her who had no home, beness, but what must they be whose pleas-yond the school, or the bank where she was ures are wrung from the agony of their fellow creatures, of their best friend, the poor trusting, loving. "Oh my God!" (it was the only time, but one she ever made such an appeal ;) "how I detest a gambler

or

"What Lucy ???

"A libertine !??

"You are very free! Lucy, with these names, for one so young," said Alice, and went to bed in a less joyous humour than she had commenced the conversation.

Months rolled away, and every day Lucy became more happy: constantly employed, she had no time but for happiness, which is the natural state of human existence when occupation directs our desires, and confines our busy thoughts within their proper channels. Still enthusiastic in the cherished scheme of supporting her mother, Lucy found nothing repugnant in labours

sitting. Whilst her devotion to Alice was exhibted in little attentions and unexpected kindnesses, rather than made a matter of explanation and analysis.

There was a nook shaded by tall silver birch trees that stood at one corner of her favorite meadow, where a shallow stream ran murmuring to the Medina.

66

The quaint, old, cruel coxcomb," as Byron has somewhat harshly termed that old Fisher whose genius has thrown more poetry over the description of the Cheven, Chavender, or Chub;-albeit the French esteem the fish so mean as to call him un villain, than most modern poems contain; would have been delighted with the spot, It might have been a companion to that meadow which he has so sweetly described: "turn out of the way a little toward yonder high honey-suckle hedge; there we