The Atheist and the Acorn.

METHINKS the world seems oddly made

And every thing amiss;

A dull complaining Atheist said,
As stretch'd he lay beneath the shade,
And instanced in this ;-

"Behold," quoth he, "that mighty thing,
"A pumpkin, large and round,

"Is held up by a little string,

"Which upwards cannot make it spring, "Nor bear it from the ground.

"While on this oak an Acorn small, "So disproportion'd grows,

"That whoso'er surveys this all,

"This universal casual ball,

"Its ill-contrivance knows."

"My better judgment would have hung
"The pumpkin on the tree,
"And left the Acorn slightly strung,
"Mong things that on the surface sprung,
"And weak and feeble be."

No more the caviller could say,
No further faults discry;

For upwards gazing as he lay,
An Acorn loosened from its spray,
Fell down upon his eye.

The wounded part with tears ran o'er;
As punish'd for the sin;

Fool! had that bough a pumpkin bore.
Thy whimsies would have work'd no more,
Nor skull have kept them in.

The Cottager's Fireside.

"The faggot blazed, the window glanc'd,
"The heart of age arose."

HOW chili is the air, and how clouded the sky, How dim is the moon as she journies on high; ow dreary the howl of the fox on the hill,

LOGAN.

When borne on the breeze it comes piercing and shrill.
ere securely I rest, since my day-toil is o'er,
nd I feel the rough blasts of the season no more';
ho' Boreas may scatter his snows far and wide,
Il his rage I defy by my pleasant FIRESIDE.

'Tis but late that I roam'd thro' the meadows so gay,
Then the sun, sinking low, bade adieu to the day,
Then the pale star of evening appear'd in the east,
nd the lover had sunk with his sorrows to rest;
ut now all the glories of summer are fled,

nd the shepherd's pipe echoes no more thro' the mead,
et contented, at evening, my footsteps I guide
o the joys of a poor, but a pleasant FIRESIDE.

I envy not those, who reflection to drown,
hoose the lewd, or the giddy delights of the town;
Of their wealth let them boast, ah! how foolish and vain,
Don, soon, it may fly, ne'er to bless them again.
Give me books and a friend, and let others who may
Reverse nature's law, and turn night into day,
Still may I such vanities ever deride,
nd fly from them all to my pleasant FIRESIDE.
Yet here tho' I sit from the tempest secure,
till let me reflect on the state of the poor,
low many are doom'd thro' this season so drear,
All the woes of distress and affliction to bear,
Y'er whose slumbers the snow, as it silently falls,
Finds too easy access thro' the mud-plaster'd walls;
To such scenes, stoop, ye fav'rites of fortune and pride,
There, no plenty is seen-there, no pleasant FIRESIDE.
Oh! still while my eyes hail the light of the morn,
Or mark the long shadows of evening return,
Be it mine, when gay summer sits smiling on high,
From the city and all its allurements to fly;
And when winter howls loudly o'er hill and o'er dale,
When his blasts o'er the beauties of nature prevail,
Thro' all seasons may I in that BEING confide,
Whose smile of a poor, makes a pleasant FIRESIDE:
Leven Street, Edinburgh.

VIGIL OBSERVATOR,

On the death of a lovely Boy.

ADDRESSED TO HIS DISCONSOLATE PARENTS.

LIFE, at the best, is but a thorny maze,

Where none can to perfection's height attain :
Where withering cares molest our weary days,
And wretched myriads seem to breathe in vain.
The great may flaunt a while in golden pride,
And shine in all th' insignia of power;
But soon they sink beneath an adverse tide,
Despoil'd of all their blessings in an hour.
When Phoebus last commenc'd his circling round,
No darts of pain pervaded many a breast,
For whom the fun'ral dirge was heard to sound,
And sleeps ere now in death's dull gloom at rest.
Scarce had four summers blest the nuptial bed,
And the fair fruit of love began to rise,
His infant cheeks the blushing roses shed,

Death o'er him stretch'd his pall, and clos'd his eyes.
Beneath the aged oak, that fronts yon fane,
The winds absorb'd the tears Affection shed,
When he was lowly craddled to remain,

And sleep intwin'd a while with kindred dead.
Yet let submission own the stroke divine,
'Twas nature call'd him to an early tomb;
Why live in woe, consuming, why repine?
His soul inherits Eden's endless bloom.
Sweet babe, adieu! thy troubles are no more,
From every human woe you're now set free :
O when shall I oblivion's flood get o'er,

And tread the path that leads to bliss and thee.

Drumeldry, Fife, July 9th.

NOTES TO CORRESPONDENTS.

66

P

The favours of A. D.-W.-H. H. and J. G. are received; also, the valuable Receipts forwarded by a friend to the Editor of the Cheap Magazine," which we intend to notice under the head of Useful Information, when we come to treat of LOCAL AFFECTIONS.

In notes to correspondents, page 384 of our first volume, we in serted the following paragraph: "We are determined in future to notice no communication unless the postage is paid; and the writess of such must not take it amiss if their letters are returned to the pest office;" and we here repeat it, for the information of those of our new subscribers as may not have seen the above.

Erratum. In last number, page 374, line 29th, for Paul, read Sarl.

HADDINGTON: Printed and Published by G. MILLER & SON.

The Engagement; or the death of Peter Langhead.

AFFECTING STORY OF TOM BRAGWELL,

TROUGHT HOME TO THE CONSCIENCES OF THOSE IT MAY CONCERN.

ed

(Continued from p. 401.)

IT had been agreed betwixt JACK DESPERATE and I to go out upon an orchard-breaking expedition, on a certain evening, and as we had no reason to reproach each other for a want of punctuality on such occasions, we met exactly at the time and place appointed. Upon counting the cost, we however found that we were rather few in number for the enterprise in contemplation, and we hastenaway to see what that never-failing source the head of the Western-lane would produce, by way of an accession to our strength. There we found PETER LANGHEAD stand. ing in close conversation with JOHN CARELESS, but in such a manner as if they were both at a loss to dispose of their time. Here's work for you, my lads,' cried I, as we advanced, We are just on the way to a sweet harvest, and you shall have part of the spoil if you will go along with us. I was not fond of saying more at the time as Peter had never accompanied us on a similar excursion before, and had always shown a backwardness to any thing attended with risk and danger. Whether he exactly un VOL. II.

derstood

derstood my meaning or not, I cannot pretend to say but he went forward with us without any hesitation and JOHN CARELESS, who paid the same deference LANGHEAD as my uncle did to SIMON FRISK, moved me chanically along with him. As we drew near the scene depredation it was necessary that we should let him int the secret of our intentions, which I did in the easies manner possible. He at first started at the proposal, and seemed disposed to return; but when I told him that there was no harm in taking a few apples from a gentleman wha had more than he could make use of himself, and that his only employment would be to carry off the fruit after we had secured it, his only objection was, that he never was good in climbing walls in his life: this, however, got completely the better of, by observing, that we had often been there before, and there was not the least dan ger;-that the wall was low, and I could easily push him over it, and that he might depend upon it, if there was any alarm, I would bring him out of the scrape or perish in the attempt: adding, in a firm and decided tone, if any mischief befalls you blame Toм Bragwell.

In a few minutes after our arrival we had arranged measures, and determined to carry our plan into imme diate execution. CARELESS was to be stationed outside the wall, in order to give notice by a preconcerted signal should any danger appear in that quarter, as well as to receive from LANGHEAD, the fruits of our plunder as he conveyed them to him, while DESPERATE and I, were to compose the foraging party. It, however, turned out, that the preparations for the defence were no less complete than those for the offence of the premises; for they had in reality been more than once attacked before, and this night Sir Alexander's gardener had a number of supernumerary hands on the watch, in order to preserve his luxuriant show of fruit, which he had reason to expect would attract the notice of some of his former visitors. These, with part of his own people, were stationed in an outhouse, which had an internal communication with the orchard; but for the greater secrecy, and to make the house appear as it were uninhabited, no lights were allowed, and one of the number alternately took his station with a loaded mus

ket,