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A Round of Proverbs.

A ROUND OF PROVERBS. What can't be cur'd must be endur'd. generally apt to forget in the raging of

This is a consolatory saying, applicable their anger, or in insensibility, is a trite to persons under the pressure of some ine- adage. vitable calamity; and advises to make a

Sue a beggar, and catch a louse. virtue ot' necessity, and aggravate, but

This proverb is a witty lampoon upon all alleviate the burden by patient bearing.

Indiscreet and vexatious law-suits, com. Fast bind, Fast find.

menced against insolvent people; for what This proverb teaches, that people being

can be more ridiculous than to sue a beg. generally base and perfidious, it is a good

gar, when the action must needs cost point of prudence to be upon our guard

more than he is worth? it puts a man's against treachery and impositions in all prudence quite out of question, though it our dealings and transactions, either by puts his satisfaction of revenge and malice buying, selling, borrowing, or lending, in quite out of doubt; for, according to anoorder to preserve a good understanding, ther proverb, what can we have of a cat and a lasting friendship, among natural

but her skin. correspondents.

Many hands make light work.
Like Father, like Son.

This proverb is a proper inducement to

animate persons to undertake any vir. This proverb does not only intimate the

tuous attempt, either for the relief of the force ef nature, but also of exainple; as

distressed, the succour of the oppressedi,or much the strength of imagiuation, and

the vindication and defence of religion and practice in the latter, as the violent bent of inclination in the former. It is true

property, against potent oppressors or in. that children, though not always, are ge

vaders; for that, however eitficult and

insurmountable the attempt may appear ncrally like the father or mother in their

to a feeble few, yet an united force will minds, as well as their bodies; the facul.

make it not only practicable, but easy ties of the former, commonly run in the

too. blood; and as for the features and con plexions of the latter, they oiten look as The more hate, the less speed. if they were cast in the same mould.

This proverb is a good monition But I presume the point of the proverb) calmness and sodateness in the manageis chiefly directed at their examples; and ment of any busines; it is a reprehen. that, such as are the parents, as to vice sion to precipitate and hurrying tempers, or virtue, such are, too comporily, the

who frequently, by over-cagerness, mar children, and that the ill examples of a what is under their hands; it is much the vicious father, almost universally tend to same in sense with our common proverb, the debauching a son; when the good

haste makes waste; and there are several } recepts and examples of a virtuousiainer,

proverbs in several languages to the same go a great way to the forming a virtuous

purpcrt; qui trop se baste en chemtnant, one.

en beail chemin se fourroye souvent, say Birds of a feather flock together.

the French: Qui nimis propere, minis

prospere, and nimium properans serius Every fowler knows the truth of this absolvit the Latins: and it likewise an. proverb; but it has a further meaning

swers to the festina lente : and accerding. than the association of irrational creatures,

ly, tarry a while, that we may make an it intimates that society is a powerful

end the sooner, was the common saying attractive; but that likeness is the lure

of Sir Amias Pawlet. that draws people of the same kidney together. A covey of partridges in the

Too much of one thing is good for nothing. country, is but an emblem of a company of This proverb is an apopthegm of one of gossips in a neighbourhood; a knot of the seven wise men of Greece. Some atsharpers at the gaming-table; a pack of tribute it to Thales, and some to Solon. rakes at the tavern, &c. That one fool It is generally applied by way of reprehenloves another; one fop admires another; sion to such persons who, when by some one blockhead is pleased at the assurance, witty drollery or banter, they find they conceit, and affectation of another; and have diverted the company, pleased with therefore herd together.

the conceit of their own wit, they either

draw it to that length, 'tis so fine that no Harm watch, Harm catch.

Lody can perceive it but themselves; or This proverb intimates, that malice, they carry on their jest till it grows trou. srite and envy, are generally self-murder- blesome and nauseous, forgetting, that ers upon the upshot : that to intend, study, though a little wit in company, like salt at or contrive aliy harm to our neighbours, a table, makes conversation relishing, yet is birdlime all over, and will catch our- they must love savoury bits very well i'clves at last. This though persons are,

that can cine out of a salt cells..

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On a still and peaceful evening I was persuaded, for the ben. efit of my health, to step into a boat upon the sea-shore, and enjoy the refreshing serenity of the sky and sea. Pushing off, we glided along a smooth surface, and seemed to behold a new heaven in the waters below us. I was insensibly led into a train of pleasing, though at times melancholy reflections. Here, said I to myself, is a striking emblem of the different conditions of human life,-the danger of youth, the friendships of the world, and the fears of old age. Youth is a giddy and a thoughtless season. Having no experience of danger, the young are most exposed to it, and often there is but a plank, as at this moment, between them and the other world. Their little sensibilities, sometimes indeed awakened by the companion of their years dropping down before them, are however soon dissipated, and their agitations calmed by those scenes which quickly supply the place of the passing shadow that has left them for ever! I looked at the frail bark in which I was sitting, and gave an involuntary shrink back from the gulf around and below me, while my companions, unconscious of danger, were laving the waters with their hands, and smiling upon the tomb of thousands of their fellow-creatures. Alas! that they should thus disregard the warnings of experience, and shut their eyes when on the brink of a precipice! Alas, that they should not earlier learn wisdom, and tremble at the perils which surround them! Thus yielding myself up to despondency, I remembered the words

of the poet,


Reflections in a Boat.

" Where ignorance is bliss, * Tis folly to be wise.

ever ye

to come.

My thoughts now took a new turn. The pleasures of my youth rushed upon my mind, and I moumed in silence, that youth and happiness were so short-lived. Return, ye moments of unmingled joy~0 return! Leave me for wild

passions, ye gnawing cares, ye terrible fears!

The paradise of my youth is now a wilderness !—Danger is nothing to the continual dread of it. Pain is easily borne, which reminds not of ills I felt the full weight of my

upon my

soul. The tinge of the setting sun upon the sea, and ihe distant sound of music from the shore, with the slight agitation produced by a gust of wind--only served to remind me of what I was. And what are all the friendships of the world, said I, but like the troubled sea around me. How quickly they follow in succession, but like the waves of the sea, leave behind them no durable impressions. The bark of fortune had now brought me into the midst of this busy, restless scene. The tide of social joy had now hurried me along, and I rejoiced in the smiles of iny fellow inen. Reclining at vest, I thought the ocean would

up against my bark, but would be proud to bear me upon its wares.

The world seemed then to look upon me with pleasure, and a circle of friends seemed devoted to my happi

In seasons of festivity they rejoiced in my presence; and at all times courted my favour by fiaitering my vanity. Often in the giddy moment, I felt happy that I was a tenant of such a world; but the dream is fled, and I awoke to solitude and troubles. Alas! alas! what a treacherous world we live in! friends there are—but how abundant the friendless. I thought not how soon my

never rise


may be shipwrecked, and covered with the waves; I thought not how fearful we are to trust ourselves to the mercy of the sea, and how often our confidence is betrayed! I thought not, how we sink wheeded and forgotten; how the waters setile over us and are still, as if we liad never been on its surface ! But the storm of adversity has


and where is the friend who had vowed a thousand times that he would never leave me; where is the stay on which i had vainly trusted; my bark is left alone to the wines and the wayes, and the friends of my pleasures stand innmorable as the hills around


Reflections in a Buat.

me. Why then, O why is there such a thing as friendship in the world? Why should we live upon smiles and promises unstable, and inconstant as the sea?

But the sun had now set, the mists were coming over the opposite hills-and night drawing on insensibly, warned us to make towards the shore. Such, thought I, is the night of old


it creeps upon us. Thus does the giddy course of life fade away, and we becoine more calm and thoughtful. With the full experience of what we have been, we shudder to think what we are, and what we shall be. The dangers which had long escaped our notice, being shaded by the vanities of the world, and the prevailing strenyih of our constitution, now rise up sensibly to our minds, and alarm us most when we are least able to avoid them. No period therefore of man's life is more subject to fears than old age, and at no other period of life are they more reasonably entertained. For if there is but a plank between man in his best estate and the other world, old age is continually standing upon that plank, and it is every day sensibly decaying. Their sun is set for ever, and the night is dark and cheerless. And night is too often the season of storins, said I to myself, as I looked upon the waters, and observed the rising spray. Ah me! old


is indeed the winter of man, without the hope of ever in this life enjoying a calm. But what then, is this life all? Is there no port but the grave to welcome our approach, and to shelter us when the storm is past? Must we close our eyes in eternal night? Why then the dread of something after night?- The thought set my mind at rest, and I felt as if I were already immortal. My fancy wandered into the other world, and I drew near the


fountain of and joy. The storms of life vanished away; a delightful stillness pervaded my frame, and I rose far above this world, and all its perishing enjoyments. Here I found the sure guardian of youththe never-failing friend of man, and the stay and hope of old age. Glasgow, December, 1818.



On Imaginary Beings.


Now a' ye superstitious foks,
Wha to yoursels mak' stumblin' blocks jam
An' in your heated brains prolific,
Hatch witches, ghaists an' deils terrific,
Wi' that respeck to phrenzy due,
This piece I'dedicate to you.




Sir, Gif

gray hairs, an' auld age comman' attention an' respects I can lay claim to the previlege, for my head is as white as the driftet snaw, an' I'm within a few ooks o' seventy. I therefore houp yell exerceese your patience a few minutes, while I express my thochts on a subject, the readin' o' your Mirror has set adrift i'


min'. In the first num'er, a paragraph written by yoursel', attracket my particular notice. After relatin' the story o' twa fairies,

our minds are naturally impressed with thankfulness, for being delivered from the fetters of ignorance and superstition, which gave birth to fairies, brownies, and other imaginary beings, &c.”—This, Sir, is true. I have been thankfu' for mair nor fifety years for being clear o' the mists o' superstition, the belief q' visions, an' creatures bred i' the fancy:-however dinna think I'm a Sadducee; I believe in angels, an' spirits, gude an evil, but

I'm one who firm denies. That spirits now are seen by mortal eyes. I was happy in the idea that



learn't frien's wad be the means, wi' your .writin's, to root out, an' clear awa' the scanty remains o' fause an' delusive notions frae 'mang us; but I was disappointed, an' vext, to see aught or nine pages oʻthe last num'er o' the Mirror occupiet by Vetus, pleadin' the cause. o' superstition, an' visionary opinions; against wham I lift up my testimony;-an', Sir, after what ye said on the point, I wadna thocht

ye wad hae plac't him amang sae mony soun' outhors: i' your

beuk. I am afraid o’this biiky, scatterin' his errors a. thort the lan’;– for he seems deep learn't, an' has busket up

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