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about from pillar to post; because, you know, ' previously, we find their terms of existence do “a rolling stone gathers no moss,' &c., &c., &c.” not exceed those of their fellow-men. The poor listener, who has this bundle of “ “To pray" implies to entreat, supplicate, imknows” inflicted on him, of course manifests his plore. Does Miss B., in writing to her intimate entire concurrence, and departs with little of the confidant, Miss C., entreat or implore her to other's tirade in remembrance, except the words “accept her best love,” when she concludes her “ you know.”
triple-crossed epistle with a “pray accept, &c.?" Others will interlard their harangues with an or does Miss Sharp, the schoolmistress, when occasional “ Don't you see " thereby drawing she addresses one of her pupils with a cross attention to the point of their subject, or else “ Pray mind your lessons,” intend anything bequestioning the auditor's capability of perceiving yond a preceptor's command? Of course not. it. This is what the phrase directly means. We should much like to know the derivation As usually introduced, it is nothing but "super- and meaning-nay, the orthography-of the fluous breath."
nasal murmur some folks will favour others The adjective, “beautiful,” has been distorted with, in lieu of the distinct affirmative “Yes." to many absurd significations.
We scarcely know how to put it on paper. “Oh! do taste this, it is so beautiful.?”
L. speaks. “Then you fully intend to do soThis, perhaps, refers to an ice-cream in hot and-so?” weather. The ice-cream may be nice, may be M. replies: “Ooom-m-m--ss, humce!" or refreshing, but it cannot strictly be beautiful, “'mce!" otherwise the eatable would become elegant and Have pity, reader, and inform us what these lovely; for such are the qualifications that the confused noises signify. To our ears they are word imparts. A slight consideration will call neither " fish, flesh, nor good red-herring! to mind many similar instances of the mis- Numerous similar absurdities might be se. employment of this adjective.
lected from our vernacular idiom, and descanted We coine upon an interesting nest of ab- upon; but we trust we have written sufficient to surdities in the expressions, “ 1 have no doubt fulfil our purpose, and to amuse the reader
, on earth,” “I am sure," " Really 1,” “ Posi- without wearying his patience. In conclusion, tively I,” &c., &c.
we would remark that every word has a true “Is Mr. So-and-so within ?"
signification, whatever false or unintentional one “I am sure I don't know, but I will inquire." we may give it; and by employing words and Here the person addressed intimates the extra- phrases such as the above, we (unwittingly
, and ordinary fact, that he is quite sure, positive, and not purposely, be it rememembered) give utconvinced, in his own mind, of what? That he terance to ideas, thoughts, passions, and feeldoesn't know! Is not this “a most lame and ings of which the mind at the moment has not impotent conclusion :” Many parties will tell the remotest conception or entertainment. you that “they have not the slightest doubt on earth; just as if they could possibly entertain any doubt elsewhere but on earth. 'How frequently too is an observation introduced with a THE SECRET DISCLOSED. high strain of magniloquence, by the word
positively,” when a simple answer is required to a simple question ! I wonder if the post has arrived or not ?" in
“ Come, sit ye down by me, quires G.
For I ha'e a simple story Positively I cannot tell you,” replies H.
O' love to tell to thee." By-the-bye, we here find another morsel of
Jenny's First Love-LETTER. nonsense, in the commencement of G's. remark -"I wonder!” Nothing like astonishment or amaze, rely upon it, was present in his inind at Oh, mother, kind as thou art dear, how beautiful
those flowers, the moment. “ Would you reply to this letter or not ?"
Which for your dying child you've culled from her
own favourite bowers ! asks J.
Upon my pillow lay them near and nearer still. Oh, “No, that I wouldn't, for worlds !” is the answer from an individual who is far from re- The summer breeze they seem to breathe upon my flecting that he thus places the value of heaven fevered brow. and earth, and all things that are therein, How nestled lies the honey.dew their rosy hearts against une petty business of mortality,
amid, " Wherever have you kept yourself of late, Here like a diamond sparkling bright, there 'neath a my friend? I have not set eyes on you for ages Were ever flowers as bright as those, or formed as past !" says J. to K. Considering that “
faultlessly? age is synonymous with century," these friends must run Methuselah
Were ever flowers as sweet? They're filled the hard for the palm of seniority. However, being How much of all the pleasant past to me those blos
room with fragrancy. enabled to communicate to the reader, in con
soms bring ! fidence, that they dined together the day before They've waked within my heart of hearts, ob, many one started on a continental tour just one month a silent sting;
BY S. J. G.
They call up days for ever gone-when, merry as the The nightingale awoke his song, the glow-worm lit bee
bis lanp, That robbed them of their hidden sweets, I plucked And with the soft descending dew the folded flowers them from the tree,
were damp. And laugbing wreathed them in my hair, or placed This eve we met. I did not heed sweet nature's them on my breast ;
loveliness. My cheek with health was coloured then, my heart He spoke to me in accents filled with trancing tenwith gladness blest.
derness; Ah, mother those were happy times- I'm sadly He told me how for my dear sake he'd leave his altered now;
native land, There is no blush upon my cheek, no joy upon my Win wealth and fame in foreign ones-return, and brow;
claim my hand : The film of death is o'er my eyes, and day by day I feel, He told with voice, that falter would, how by the Slowly but surely, through my heart bis icy influence dawn of day steal.
He'd take his leave of home, for then the ship would I know I have not long to live-nay, weep not,
anchor weigh; mother dear,
And though his lip was quivering, and white as death I do not dread the gaping grave, or sigh that death is his cheek, near;
He forced a feeble smile, and strove some words of I shall be happier when the flowers are waving o'er hope to speak. my tomb,
I heard him, but my heart grew sick with its own Oh, happier far, for sad, alas ! in life hath been my weight of woedoom.
From lip and cheek I felt the blood back to its Come nearer, mother, bend thee low-I have a tale fountain flow; to tell
I looked at him in tearless grief-I could not speak You will forgive your child's deceit? I know you will full well :
I never knew till then the depth and fervour of my love. God knoweth how so oft before I've longed to tell my The sorrows of my heart he sought to soothe with woes,
eager care, And how, whene'er I strove to speak, a spell my lips Yet well I knew his own the while did all my feelings did close.
share; But now to-morrow's evening sun my eyes may not He wept-yes, down his manly cheek I saw the big behold
tears flow, I cannot die in peace and leave my simple tale untold. And cheerful though its words, his voice was broken, Those roses, ah, how fresh and fair and beautiful are faint and low. they,
He bade me hope for happier days, when we again Filled with the dewy fragrancy of charıning, blushing should meet, May !
And he with fortune's favours blest, would fing them But, mother, I have got a rose, a little faded one,
at my feet; More dear to me than all the flowers that bloom this He asked me could he take me from your sheltering earth upon;
arms, to share See, here it is ! I wear it thus for ever next my heart, A lot of bleakest poverty—a lot of daily care? Nor for the wealth of worlds would I that withered Ah, no! he said he lov'd too well to play such selfish rosebud part.
part, You marvel, mother, wherefore I do prize this paltry And all he asked whilst absent was, a fond and thing
faithful beartWhy on a simple flower like this such lavish love I A changeless one, that would, amidst the wealthy Oh, well you may, for never once hath word or look Unto the lonely exile steal in tenderest thought away. revealed
I wept as I have never wept before or since that hour The secret that so long hath lain deep in my heart A strange and gloomy presage held my heart within concealed.
its power Oh, mother! I have loved-adored! I know there I felt that parted once, we ne’er should meet on never dwelt
earth again ; In woman's breast a truer love than that which I And, though I strove to crush the thought, it would have felt,
all mighty reign. And feel, for over love like mine death-death hath He told me that he had no wealth to purchase gifts
no control; It lives beyond the grave-it is immortal as the soul. And then he sighed, and turned to pluck this rose Bend lower, I would breathe his name. Alas! poor from off the tree; fluttering heart!
And as he placed it in my hand, besought with One little moment aid me yet, then let thy life depart;
earnest tone, I'll whisper low that cherished name--Ah! now the That I would prize it for his sake, when its bright worst is o'er
bloom had flown. I thought I could not form those lips to breathe that sound once more.
We parted, and I felt that life had lost all charm for He had no wealth-oh, mother dear, you know how poor was he,
By day, by night, my anxious heart was filled with And love and pride forbade him yet to share his lot misery; with me.
I trembled at a breeze ; each wind that broke upon It was a quiet summer eve, the sun had sunk to rest ;
my ear The faint moonbeams were quivering upon the river's Appeared a tempest, and I felt my cheek grow white breast;
and the gay,
BY H. G. ADAMS.
I knew no sleep throughout the night, no rest | Dear mother, dry those bitter tears; we yet again throughout the day
shall meet I wearied heaven with prayers to guard his bark upon In that bright land, where he now waits his best.
beloved to greet ; In each pursuit most loved before I now no pleasure I fear not Death – I welcome bim-oh, sweet my rest found,
shall be ; Still did that gloomy presage hold my heart within Then, mother, dry those bitter tears-you should not its bound.
weep for me. And when you asked me where the smile of other
days had fled, And where the joy, that lit my eyes and tinged my
SONNETS TO MARY HOWITT. cheek with red You little knew the pang that rent my bosom as you spake;
Oh, thou who singest of the clear blue streams ; Oh, many a time and oft I thought my lonely heart Of verdant meadows, and of gushing springs, would break.
Lighting the woodlands with their silvery gleams; Alas! my mother dear, alas ! you've heard but half Of butterflies, with rainbow-tinted wings ; my woe
And trees, round which the fragrant woodbine All, all the sufferings of this heart its God alone may
Crowned with a coronal of golden beams; The crushing tidings came—the ship was lost, and
Of birds and flowers, and other country things," 'neath the wave
That toil-worn citizens behold in dreams : Ob, horror ! every soul on board had found a watery
Who wakest all our kindly sympathies grave.
With ballads quaint and sweetly musical, Too true my heart's foreboding proved - I knew it Of cottage-hearth, and manor house, and hall, would be so,
And ships that wander on the stormy seas ; And he and I shall meet no more in this wide world Whose gentle thoughts and pure moralities
Upon the heart like dews on folded flower-buds fall:I will not paint my agony
my wild yet vain
Fain would I thank thee for the many hours despair Look, mother, on this altered form, and see their
Of pure and calm delight that I have spent, workings there;
Transported by thy strains to woodland bowers, Look on this dimmed and sunken eye, this wan and
Where sorrow cometh not, nor discontent; wasted cheek,
Listing the warblings of the song-birds, blent And tell me, shall I not ere long find all the rest I seek? In one delicious harmony, while flowers I care not, mother, where you lay my bones when I
Breathed incense round; the blue sky o'er me bent, am dead
And trees upon me shed their leafy showers : Beneath the far, far ocean-wave his bones have found
Fain would I thank thee for the visions bright a bed ;
Thy lays have conjured up, of happy vales Andas mine cannot rest beside what, living, loved I best, And quiet nooks, and old men telling tales; Take you no thought about my grave-I care not
Of cottage children, laughing in the light where I rest.
Of their own loveliness ; and groves bedight Ere comes the morrow's sun I shall have breathed my
With blossoms, shedding perfume on the southern latest breath,
gales. And this cold hand now clasped in thine shall colder be in death.
A LA MENT. But why thus weep, dear mother mine? Ah, why thus weep for me?
Alas ! she's dead, Wouldst have me live, yet know each day brought but
Who was so beautiful and bright, fresh misery
Wbose smile was like a ray of light Wouldst have me pine from year to year in hopeless
From heaven sped : grief away,
Whose fancies like the stars at night Until perhaps e'en reason's self would fall beneath
A sparkle shed. its sway?
Alas! she's dead! Ah, no! to griefs like mine the grave alone may Her living form has left the earth ; bring repose
But thoughts divine, which are life's worth, Death is the only balm that's found to heal such
Blossom and spread. bitter woes ;
The thoughts to which her soul gave birth That balm is near, and yet it brings a pang unto my
Survive the dead. heart, For the same hour in which it comes shall bid me
Alas! she's dead ! from thee part.
Mem’ry's eye retains her still, And, mother dearest, at this time how full on
Whose presence acted like a spell.
Her spirit's fled. memory Swells all the love and tenderness I've ever known
Memory echoes the sad knell, from thee,
Alas! she's dead ! How you have mourned since from my cheek the
Spirit divine ! bloom of health first fled
Too bright and pure for this cold world, How many days and nights you've pass’d in watch- Thy spirit-wings thou hast unfurl'd ings by this bed ;
At heaven's shrine. How anxious every wish to please, how gently Bright messenger from mortal-world failings borne
To Him divine. Ah, me! a life's devotion were for all a poor return.
THE VILLAGE SHOP
BY CLARA PAYNE.
The village shop, the pretty little village shop! | variety of pale little currant cakes are stuck how many pleasing associations does it recall to against the panes of glass, supported by battlemind; associations of one's childhood, when its dores and shuttlecocks, while gorgeously painted attractive wares shone so highly coloured to the kites occupy the rear; with hoops, and bats, youthful imagination, that we thought the world and various toys for girls and boys. Imple. contained nought that could surpass them; and ments of industry are also everywhere visible though Old Time has dispelled the delusion, the balls of cotton, pins, needles, tapes, twine, shoe pretty village shop has still its charms for us; binding, hooks and eyes, thimbles and buttons, and we seldom pass it by, without pausing to slate pencils and lead pencils, paper and ink, gaze on the literal omnium gatherum displayed wafers and wax, quills and pens, are all in this in its bow window, over which a license to sell | little shop met together; with mops and brooms, various articles is announced; and beneath the bricks and brushes, pepper and salt, tobacco announcement is placed a square board, and tea, candles and soap, flour and snuff, sugar
and spice, and all that is nice. Yes! all may * Mangling Done or to Jett,"
here be found. Here, too, can the loyalist pur
chase a correct likeness of his beloved sovereign thereby proclaiming that the art of mangling is for the moderate price of one penny. Here, practised within ; while the door is adorned on
too, can the songster gratify his taste with a either side by huge cabbage-nets filled with choice selection of popular ditties, for a similar onions.
charge. But we must not omit to eulogise The little village shop, patronises industry; amongst these various things the mistress of cleanliness, literature, and enjoyment. Behold the shop herself. The good old dame, who is in its window the juvenile library-The Illus- always so cheerful and obliging, so cleanly in trated Fairy Tales, consisting of those dear appearance, and who, with patience unwearied, companions of our childhood—“ Jack the Giant is ever ready to attend to the wants of her youthKiller,"
" “ Blue Beard,” “ Jack and the Bean- ful customers; how well she looks in her neat
« Little Red Riding Hood,” - Tom plaited cap, with her bright silver spectacles, Thumb," &c. &c.; each tiny volume, with its and her snow-white apron ; her fame has ex. gay cover, to be obtained for the trifling sum of tended beyond her own little village; and chilone halfpenny. Behold, too, an assemblage of dren from all adjacent parts come hither to pay rosy-cheeked dolls, so arranged that they appear her a visit. Often have we here seen the juvenile inviting their admirers in. Near them, see a
spendthrift hastening to get rid of his last regiment of leaden soldiers, ready to face the farthing; and often have we beheld the longing enemy, and keeping guard over some tempting eyes of a poor child directed towards the wingingerbread in the shape of hearts. Not far dow of the shop at some (for him) unattainable from these is a sweet little duck of a bird object, which his more fortunate companion carperched on a stick, to be sold for one farthing; ries off in triumph; for even the village shop and close to the bird is a square glass, well filled has its temptations, and very great temptations, with bull's-eyes, sugar plums, and sticks of rock. to offer; however, success to its worthy proAn ornamental basket next invites attention, prietor, good old Dame; long may she enjoy containing some moss-covered eggs; and on it her well-deserved earnings; long prosperously a paper is fixed, asserting the eggs to be new flourish her laid." Numerous green hard-looking apples are placed in a row before the basket; and a
“ Little Village Shop.”
THE EAGLE AND THE THUNDER CLOUD.
An eagle sat on the pinnacle of a lofty rock, the mountain sides, licking the hot stones in which raised its proud head sublimely to the vain with their thirsty tongues: for the sun summer sky. Beside him were scattered the glowed like red-hot metal in the cloudless firmafragments of a kid, which had formed his ment, and his sultry beam had drunk them noonday's repast. Three thousand feet below up, and all nature withered beneath his ardent stretched the brown valley, far and wide, whose rays. banks were dotted with numerous herds and No shepherd's pipe was blown in the valley; flocks of sheep, which looked like white specks the herdsmen were stretched, fainting, beneath in the distance. Panting, they sought out the the shade of the parched trees, and gazed lanwater-courses which were wont to trickle from guidly at the glowing skies, praying that God
would send rain to refresh the herbage of the frail strength to that of the Almighty, whose valley, and renew the dried-up springs of the humble servant I am? Seest thou not that all mountain. Not a breath of air fanned the droop- nature is oppressed, and sickens beneath the ing leaves; the drowsy birds had not a note, , sultry glare of the sun ? The water-courses are and a death-like silence reigned over the face of dried up; the sickly leaves fall from the trees; nature.
the wholesome juice of the herbage thickens in But the eagle rejoiced in the sultry glow, the stem ; the grass hath lost its verdure, and gorged with blood; he let down his breast to the fainting cattle low feebly, and raise their bethe burning rock, spread out his broad wings to seeching eyes to the heavens, humbly imploring the warm sunbeam, and closed his eyes in deli- that aid which man can no longer give. Shall cious enjoyment of life. Suddenly he felt that all nature want, that thou mayest enjoy thy the pleasant warmth was withdrawn, and he comfort, selfish bird ?” turned his head and gazed upwards with fierce “What is that to me?" more proudly screamed inquiring eye—and lo! a dark cloud had arisen the eagle ; " let them want! they were made to silently on the horizon, and was gradually steal- minister to my comfort, and will fall the easier a ing over the sun's bright disk, and a moaning prey to my talons;" and he swooped fiercely upon sound, like the coming of a mighty wind, the cloud. But a blue, livid flash came from it, breathed through the drooping willow leaves in a crash of thunder followed that shook hearen the valley, and again all was still.
and earth ; and the wretched eagle fell, a shapeBut the wrath of the fierce bird was roused, less mass of scorched flesh, blood and feathers
, and giving a hoarse scream, he launched him to the earth, while the storm burst forth in all self from the brow of the precipice, and spread its grandeur. The springs of the mighty cloud ing his strong pinions to the air, rose, in magni- were broken up, the rain descended in torrents ; ficent gyrations, higher and higher to the glow- the lightning flashed; the thunder rolled far ing sky—then sailed with threatening cry to the and wide; and the panting earth leapt up at the dark cloud, whose sable folds had now entirely voice of the storm, and drank in the healing concealed the sun, and spread a mournful gloom draught, with her million thirsty mouths. over the brooding valley below. “What means And the storm passed away. The rain kissed this insolence?" screamed the haughty bird; flowers and shrubs, raised their cheerful heads, "how darest thou, poor, insignificant, flimsy glittering in pearly drops; a thousand rills cloud, disturb my comfort, and withdraw the plunged from the mountains ; the lowing of the warm sunbeam from my back ? Knowest thou cattle, as they rushed to the sparkling rivulets
, not that I am lord of the creation ; that bird filled pleasantly the valley; the pipe of the shepand beast quail at my dread voice; and that herd breathed out a joyful tune; the birds tuned puny man himself
, plodding his weary way on their throats; the sun burst forth in renewed his clumsy legs, looks up in awe and envy as he splendour; and the laughing earth, refreshed hears the rush of my mighty wings? Back, by the healing shower, sent up a grateful frawretched cloud, before I shiver thee to atoms grance to the face of the smiling hearens. with my pinions."
But the eagle was not missed from the crea“ Back thyself, audacious bird !” said a deep tion. voice from the cloud; “ rest hou oppose thy
LYRICS AND MiscelLANEOUS POEMS.- only; she lacks his force and originality. Her By Frances Brown.--(Simpkin, Marshall, and images-her similes--are Co.)- In the little volume of poems before us, as in the one earlier published by the same author,
“Like snow upon a river: we have evidence of a pure and truthful mind;
Seen a moment-gone for ever.” of a sincere reverence for the beautiful and true. They strike us at first as pretty, sometimes brilWe have here the same easy flow of versifica- liant; but they leave no clear impression; on tion, an equal abundance of graceful metaphor closing the volume, we retain but a confused reand simile, but characterised by the same de- membrance of tears and smiles, of shadows and fects—a superfluity of words, and the frequent sunshine : whereas Moore's beautiful songs and repetition of the same idea ; in varied clothing, images have sunk deep into our hearts, and certainly, but not the less wearying from its have mingled with our thoughts and dreams, monotony. Miss Brown reminds us occasion- until they have become, as it were, a portion of ally of her gifted countryman, Thomas Moore: our inward life. But if Miss Brown remind us she has his delicate ear and sense for rhythm externally of Moore, we also trace a deeper and and harmony; but it is an external resemblance nearer resemblance to Mrs. Hemans, whose