pass, and heaven itself to escape. It was an invariable custom with Daniel Smart to lay his helpmates, his crutches, on a tombstone, and to seat himself near the church porch in afternoon service, with half a dozen of the most quizzical youths of the vale, and to watch and criticise every woman, young or old, who entered the church. His remarks, though not criminal, evidenced such close application to their individual knowledge and situation, that it absolutely proved to them a release, when he could no longer appear in his conspicuous character. That he loved chess, the apothecary and attorney bore losing witness;-that he was an adept at draughts, the publican could attest, and that he was quittance with all the old maids in the parish, and ten surrounding parishes, at cards, on all hands, the report was indisputably true. His visitations precluded him from dancing; yet he was always present at a hop, and sat in exquisite raptures to see the toe and heels lightly kiss the shining and bending floor,and he never failed to encourage the music to prolong the perspiring melody of the night, till cock-crowing called the daybreak into birth, and the midnight stars run their rounds into the resplendent courts of the more bright and overglorious

sun.

In the midst of his eccentricities, it is a surprising truth, and singular in the contemplation, that he suffered the most excruciating agonies with merely a suppressed contortion of features, and concealed from those in his presence his individual pain. His cheerfulness was paramount; and he affected, if he did not feel, superior enjoyment, arising out of retort, and interchange of words and ideas, opinions and axioms. He was a bachelor, but of a lively turn,-single, by compulsion: his reading was extensive; he read books, and studied society. He was not like old D'Oyley, nor Lady Bab:-he did not affect a love of learning for its simple sake, nor confine his afternoons to "" Shickspur" only. Before his career was limited, he had seen the world in its widened map, and entered into many of the prevailing follies of the day. In his friendships he was peculiar-in his love, more so. The choice of his heart was dead, and his affections were widowed; yet there was a beautifully interesting little girl to whom he devoted much of his time, and over whose interests he showed the utmost concern. A report spoke slanderously

as to her origin and connexions; but, in the sequel, it will exonerate Daniel Smart from the imputation, and set him in an amiable light.

The fair creature to whom the " is Alice Russ.

Humming Bird" alludes

Good actions are often followed by calumny. That Daniel Smart supported Alice Russ, and cared for her welfare as his own, certainly gave occasion for surmise, when unsupported by open evidence; but she was one of that class of beings which a stoic would fall deeply in love with, and just such a playful and eel-like creature that every father would mould into his image, and wear in his heart. She was, at twelve years old, engaging and simple in her manners: the education, which she received gratuitousiy at the instance of a maiden lady belonging to the Society of Friends, far in the autumn of life, grounded her applications in a right useful soil. What she learned, was well grafted in her mind; and, while she betrayed no superficial adornment, her actions were not cheerlessly formal, nor of that primitive cast which might have been supposed to have influenced her tuition under the preceptive influence of her, whose kindness watched her every step, and planted thorns in her way to have the pleasure of removing them, and impart by experience examples which were practical and convincing. A beau of the old school, and a man of taste,e-a particular bachelor, and a blighted one too, like Daniel Smart, really adored the system which trained his adopted Alice in every part of her engagements. She was a child, but all her actions surmounted her childhood:-she was an orphan, but not a deserted one. She merited claims by her good conduct. She was timorous and modest to a degree, but becomingly behaved in the society to which she was not accustomed. To those, in whom she placed confidence, nothing could withstand her artless pleasantries, nor be otherwise than merry at her expense. Oh! how much good, cheerfulness and buoyant spirits do the hearts in care! She could cure the saddest, and please the most taciturn; but just as her beauty became more transcendant, and her playfulness more visible, an unknown person waylayed her in a lane and followed her near her home, in pretence of being a ghost: she was so affected by the fright that she rushed into the room -the family were sitting by the dusky rainbow fire, Daniel

in the beehive chair, waking the drowsy pipe, the farming man stretched in the settle, fast in sleep as a rock,-the dogs and cats blinking as near the embers as heat and cold could be, without quarrelling,-the aged stepdame blind with years, and leaning back in an aperture on pillows and a family coffer, and several boys in smockfrocks, and girls in rustic gown and pinafores,-the housewise reading by the firelight, -the servants sitting in the back, and their beloved inmate, Alice shrieking in horror, and wild by the attack on her imagination: here they all suddenly start, and, voiceless, flee towards her as she beats her head against the floor, and tears her long hair from the root; she screams loudly and cannot be held; her struggles tear away her strength, and, after her flesh is discoloured by the grasp of her friends, she is more faint, and froths into passive unconsciousness.--Oh! what a lovely object of martyred ignorance she lies! her temples are bathed in kisses, kind words, and lotions, her hands are rubbed, and she is quietly borne to her bed.

Ever after this was she subject to fits, and when she seemed almost perfect by her manners and person, the frequency of her attacks wore her to a thread, and her life snapped. Daniel lived just long enough to see his duties realised; and ere, when taken himself, for a cushion in her grave, he told his friends who watched him change, while the owl fluttered to his chamber window, that he loved his Alice for the confessed affection of her mother, whose parents estranged her from his youthful affiance when he would have married her. She died with her husband in the Peninsula, and her last breath was, that he should be the guardian and stepfather to the beloved and only child, Alice: this was done, to the letter, and all hearts are now at rest. How relieved is the conscience that wiles away its burden of duty in the accents of undeviating kindness! J. R. PRIOR.

ON LOQUACITY.

FROM THE GREEK OF NICOSTRATUS.

If in prating from morning till night
A sign of our wisdom there be;
The swallows are wiser by right,
For they prattle much faster than we.

B. F. HOPKINS.

PETRARCH CROWNED AT THE CAPITOL.

BY D. S. L. AUTHOR OF THE HARP OF INNISFAIL."

In nelli M.CCC.XLI, il giorno di Pasqua, fo Laureato Messer Francesco Petrarca, esaminato per lo Me Roberto, in presenza dello popolo di Roma, et foroli posta una Corona in capo per lode delli poeta. Diario Romano.

A throng of revelry, and sound

Of music o'er the hallowed ground,
And arches flinging back the tone
In all sweet notes to echo known;
And young eyes, seeming more divine
Than Houries at Mahomed's shrine,
And wreaths and chaplets, all, too fair
For earthly majesty to share :-

There was a voice through Roma's fanes,
As though she slept not in her chains;
There was a voice through hall and bower,
Too stirring for a tyrant's dower,
And the old spirit of her clime
Seemed risen from the grave of Time,
Again to tread in light and power
Where'er fall summer sun or shower.

There was a spell upon the sky,—
A spell of minstrel melody,-

Woven half of sound and half of thought,
With warm webs from the sun-beam caught:
And visions of the living land,

Where Virgil held his master wand,

And Horace touched his wild witch-strings,

Were traced in my mind's picturings.

I saw the infant poet lie*
Beneath his own Apulian sky,
Sleeping in dreams of grape and song,
His groves of myrtle-leaf among;

+ Horace. Caern. Lib. iii. Od. iv.

While wood-doves from the forest-wild
Dropped curtains o'er the Muses' child,
Bringing their wealth of song and joy
To place upon their dreaming boy!

I heard the Mantuan shepherd play
His woodland hymn the live-long day;
I heard him tell of Carthage' queen,
Moving in her soft beauty's sheen,
Until, in her heart's passion, she
Died of that love's intensity;
And weeping o'er the page, my heart
Would wish to act so sweet a part.

And 'neath this everlasting sky,
Where poet's name can never die,
For soul and song must always be
Thine own pure wealth, fair Italy!
How many a maiden have I known,
Hang o'er the lyre's responsive tone,
As with her parted lip, and eye
Upraised, she breath'd "half" song,

half sigh."

But there are proud sounds swelling now,
And there are leaves of myrtle bough
On many a starred and gifted head;
And evening's founts have richly shed,
On air and earth, their crisped stream
Of shade, to bless the poet's dream,
And 'tis the time, when clings each heart
Together, as they ne'er should part!

The Roman harp has yet a chord,
Untouched, unstrung by former bard,
And many a lay, that love shall make
Immortal, for its own dear sake.
And who is he, whose wizard hand
Has formed such tones to its command?

And who is he, whose lofty brow
Wears garlands of the myrtle bough?