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gave the signal settled for one of the post boys to come to his assistance. Aubrey could be restrained no longer, he opened the chamber door and rushed into the other room, followed by all the company. It is more easy to conceive than to express the various emotions and passions that displayed themselves on this occasion.

In Miss Melville, the struggle between terror and resentment was at its height, when joy and honest shame rushed suddenly into her bosom, contending for the possession of it. Admiration and delight sparkled in the eyes of Mrs. Martin and her daughter; rage, mingled with an arch gratification, twisted the lips of Mr. Martin, and directed his eye to the exciting object, on whom he pointed one of his pistols. Love, and the conscious delight springing from the part he had acted, filled the breast of Aubrey; while that of the ruffian, as he turned round on the unexpected group, was thrown into a tempest by the sudden encounter of passions, more furious than the warring elements that spread desolation in tropic climes; dissappointment, shame, dismay, rage, revenge, at once assailed it; the blood forsook his cheeks, his pale lips quivered, and he darted a ghastly look around the room. Emily!" said Mrs. Martin, as she pressed the blushing sufferer to her bosom, is it possible to forgive such injustice, as we have been guilty of?"--"Petty hypocrites!" bellowed the monster, before Miss Melville could answer, "a curse upon you all."

"Dear

Finding himself completely defeated, and that his detection was so complete, that not a shadow of doubt remained of his villany, Lord Sudley again cursed his detectors, and left the cottage. Mr. Martin was for securing him, but the rest of the party joined in persuading him that it was better to let him escape, no adequate punishment being provided by the law for his offence, and his infamy being fully established.

This was scarcely determined, when a tumultuous noise was heard, and, presently after, the cries of men. Aubrey, well knowing the cause of them, soon removed the alarm that began to rise among his friends, by assuring them that there was no occasion to be alarmed; and, requesting the ladies to remain in the cottage, he went with Mr. Martin

and Dawson to the spot whence the noise proeeeded. Just as they turned round the hedge, which screened the post-chaise, they perceived Lord Sudley brush through the opposite hedge, and run as fast as he could over the field; on which Mr. Martin, in the spirit of a sportsman, gave the view hollo. On coming up to the chaise, they saw the post-boys tied behind it, their backs bare, and receiving castigation, surronnded by a band of country people, men, women, and children, who had been informed of the nature of their offence by the cottagers employed by Aubrey, and whose hostile appearance had put the nobleman to flight. On the post-boys confessing, with contrition, that they had been bribed to assist in his villany, the gentlemen interposed, and they were released.

THE BANISHED KITTEN,
A TALE *;

Addressed to Sensibility.

"Dear Sensibility! source unexhausted of all that's precious in our joys, or costly in our sorrows; thou chainest thy martyr down upon his bed of straw, and it is thou who lifts him up to heaven. Eternal fountain of our feelings, thou givest a portion of it sometimes to the roughest peasant who traverses the blackest mountain-he finds the lacerated lamb of another flock. This moment I behold him leaning with his head against his crook, with piteous inclination looking down upon it---Oh! had I come one moment sooner! it bleeds to death. His gentle heart bleeds with it. Peace to thee, generous swain! I see thou walkest off in anguish, but the joys shall balance it, for happy is thy cottage, and happy is the sharer of it, and happy are the lambs which sport about you."

Walking and musing as I went along, Contemplating the cheerful, busy throng, While pleasure sat depicted on each face, And wrinkled care to placitude gave place, Ease, happiness, and joy, appear'd to reign, And fancy lightly tripp'd along each train;

*Note, the Reader is assured, that this is not a tale of fiction, but of fact; the kitten was picked up in Chesnut Street, near the State House in Philadelphia, in the situation described.

When, lo! amidst the scene of general joy,
One wretched object did my bliss alloy.
(Will steel'd humanity laugh at the tale,
And obdurately boast its coat of mail* ?
Mine be the task, with human feelings blest,
To help, relieve, and pity the distress'd.)
Cast in the street by some unfeeling hand,
A helpless fugitive did trembling stand;
Half-covered o'er with kennel filth it stood,

And in distressful plight it plaintive mew'd.
I stood and gaz'd with horror at the sight,
And nearer drew to sympathize its plight,
When, lo! I found, disgrace to human
kind,

The kitten almost starved and beaten blind:
Thus gasping in the street, the helpless
wight

Met kicks of accident and kicks of spite:
Fell pity prompted me to soothe its grief,
And strove at least to offer some relief;
I took the stranger home, prepar'd a bed
On which to rest its aching limbs and
head:

But lo! no sooner had it gain'd a friend,
Than death to all its sufferings put an end.
Happy for him, whose cruel savage breast,
Unpitying sees the innocent oppress'd,
If like the Cat, his misery too would end,
When death performs the office of a friend;
But no, says truth, though few this truth
regard,

Hence every deed shall meet its just reward;
If good or bad, a faithful record's made
And sure as God is truth, 'twill be repaid.
Where then, ye hosts of tyrants, will ye

stand?

Who never knew to stretch out Mercy's

hand?

You, that to others have no mercy shewn,
Look to an angry God, and dread his
frown.
I.W.W.

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to favour this doctrine. An indictment having been presented against a Gas Light Company, a bill was found by the Grand Jury; and the person most active in procuring the same was remarkably his complaints of the effluvia arising from voluble, and at times quite vehement, in the process of obtaining gas. It is strongly suspected that he had a particular object in view, however the olfactory nerves might be irritated, whether such irritation was produced by the strength of the imaginative faculty, or by bona fide sensations. A wag, in allusion to the above circumstance, observed---" Poor *******! he has gained his point, but lost his nose !"

[Our Correspondent has tacked to the above paragraph the following one; for which we beg to thank him, both for ourselves, and our correspondents whose aqueous circumstances may correspond with ours; for we depend entirely upon "Thames' healthful streams."]

Now, Mr. Editor, that we are upon this vapoury subject, allow me to mention a report current in the neighbourhood before alluded to; namely, that the inhabitants of the watery element are even affected by the operations of the Gas fying streams uninvitedly visit the domiChemists; and that whenever their purinions of his Majesty of Thames, his Bridge) are made sick--" nigh unto subjects (near and about Blackfriars death."-Qu. Whether we, who reside on terra firma, and use his Majesty's fluid, are not likely to be affected, as well as his finny subjects.

Trifles.

The following Lines are inscribed to Miss ELIZA MARY MANN ELIOT, at whose request they were written, by her affectionate friend, the author.

ON THE DEATH OF A BIRD OF

MOST RARE QUALITIES.

"I'd rather have skipped from sixteen years to sixty, and turn'd my leaping stick into a crutch, than have lived to see this day." CYMBELINE..

Beauteous Bird! a long adieu;
Never shall thy Mistress view
Again thy plumage, soft and sleek
As down upon the Maiden's cheek;

No more thy notes, so sweet and clear,
Shall strike upon her listening ear;
For death, the master of us all,
Has made to thee his fatal call;

Has stopp'd thy song of joy and gladness,
And fill'd each tender mind with sadness.
But thy heart so warm and gracious,
And thy temper so vivacious;
Thy manners ever mild and free,
Bespeaking kind urbanity,

Have made for thee a bed of glory,.
And gain'd the Muse to sing thy story.
For thee, dear bird, I've dipp'd my quill,
In memory's sweet and bitter rill!

I've call'd to mind thy voice so thrilling,
Thine eyes, with Love's expression killing;
Thy form of elegance and grace,
All the enchantment of thy face;
And I've one consolation left,
Of which I would not be bereft :
The while thou did'st inhabit earth,
During my greatest flow of mirth,
I never chac'd thee from my spirit,
Or prov'd neglectful of thy merit;
I lov'd thee, bird-I took thy part,
And tried to shield thee from the dart
Of venom'd ones, who cannot brook
What's great in mind, or fair in look;
Who turn kind actions inside out,
And Envy's flambeau wave about!
But that is past-the strength of thy wing
Is fall'n by death's omnipotent sting:
So farewell, bird! we've escaped together;
Thy chains and mine are broken for ever!

M. R. S.

The following lines are by the late Dr. Wolcot (Peter Pindar), who seems to have had as much distaste to angling as Dr. Johnson. Doctors have differed on this, as on most other subjects. Isaac Walton's pleasant book on Angling is doubtless known to many of our readers. Archdeacon Paley was a great angler;

and the Author of a Treatise on Angling" is so fervent in his admiration of the sport, as to gravely affim, that "only three Apostles attended our Saviour to the Mount, on his Transfiguration, and those three were all fishermen."

BALLADE TO A FISH OF THE BROOKE.

WHY flyest thou away with fear?
Trust me, there's nought of danger near:
I have no wicked hooke,

All covered with a snaring baite;
Alas! to tempt thee to thy fate,
And dragge thee from the brooke.

( harmless tenant of the flood,
I do not wish to spill thy blood;
For Nature unto thee

Perchance has given a tender wife,
And children dear, to charme thy life,
As she hath done to me.

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SCENE-THE TEMPLE.

I do remember a young pleader, And hereabouts he dwells; whom late I noted

In coat once black, with overwhelming brow,

Pondering o'er case. Sallow were his looks,

And midnight thought had worn him to the bone;

And in his sombre chambers lay confused, Black dusty paper, "general issues" here, "Demurrers" there-matter apt to teach

That, to our noble law, justice and form

Alike are dear; and o'er his shelves
A beggarly account of dusty volumes.
Wentworth, and Coke, and Saunders-old

editions all,

With a few numbers of the late Reports, Were thinly scattered to make up

show.

a

An' if a man would patch a rotten case, Give to transaction dark a face of snow, Here lives the lawyer that might draw the pleas.

Oh! this same thought doth but forerun my need,

I have a cause, and will retain him quickly. As I remember, this should be the cham

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Addressed to a LITTLE but a very
HANDSOME LADY.

Where any thing abounds, we find
That Nobody will have it:
But when there's little of the kind,
Then all the people crave it.

If wives are evils, as 'tis known,
And frequently confess'd,

The Man who's wise, will surely own
A little one is best.

The god of Love's a little wight,
But beautiful as thought;
Thou too art little,-fair as light,
And every thing in short.

O, happy fair! I think thee so,
For mark the Poets' song:
"Man wants but little here below
Nor wants that little long."

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nicating them to our readers, shall no doubt increase that interest which the poetical merit of the lines would of itself create. They were written by the late Mr. Ritchie, the accomplished African traveller, (the narrative of whose journey has just been published by his companion, Capt. Lyon) in the very situation described in the two first lines, when on board the vessel which conveyed him from England; on the deck of which he long stood, with tears in his eyes, regarding, for the last time, the land of his nativity.-Every friend

to science must lament that his fond anticipations of success should have been blighted, and his " melancholy bodings" fatally realized.

ADIEU TO ALBION.

Thy chalky cliffs are fading from my view,
Our bark is dancing gaily o'er the sea:
I sigh while yet I may, and say Adieu,
Albion, thou jewel of the earth, to thee,
Whose fields first fed my childish fantasy;
Whose mountains were my boyhood's wild
delight;

Whose rock, and wood, and torrent, were

to me

The food of my soul's youthful appetite; Were music to my ear-a blessing to my sight.

I never dreamt of Beauty, but, behold! Straightway thy daughters flash'd upon my eye;

I never mus'd on Valour, but the old
Memorials of thy haughty chivalry
Fill'd my expanding breast with extacy;
And when I thought on Wisdom, and the

crown

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To be a mark to guide the nations on, Like a tall watch-tow'r flashing o'er the deep!

Long may'st thou bid the sorrower cease to weep,

And shoot the beams of truth athwart the night,

That wraps a slumb'ring world; till, from their sleep Starting, remotest nations see the light, And earth be blest beneath the buckler of thy might !

Strong in thy strength, I go; and wheresoe'er

All that I owe to thee; and, oh! may ne'er My steps may wander, may I ne'er forget My frailties tempt me to abjure the debt! And what is far from thee my star must set, Hast thou not hearts that shall with sadness hear

The tale, and some fair cheek that shall be wet,

And some bright eye, in which the swelling

tear

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The following" Circular" was lately addressed to a few fair friends of the Author, as an invitation to join him in celebrating the Birth-day of the Poet MOORE:

THE POET'S BIRTH-DAY.
O come and hail the day
Which gave the Poet birth,
Whose when
song

grave or gay,
Whose Muse in tears or mirth,
Still wears a grace and breathes a tone
His song-his Muse can claim alone.

Come, and one sparkling hour,
Which not a care shall dim,
We, in my woodbine bower,
Will dedicate to him:

O come, and o'er the flowers and wine
Let the warm smiles on Beauty shine.

And we will leave a chain

Of song, from those which he
Hath given in many a strain
Of matchless minstrelsy;

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