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palace of the senate, ascended a long staircase, and entered one of the public offices. She was much embarrassed at the sight of the number of persons who were seated or moving in this large room, not knowing to which of them she should deliver her paper. The clerks, to whom she whispered her request, looked up to her, and then continued to write, without taking any further notice of her. Some other persons, whom she was about to address, turned aside to avoid her, as they would a a pillar which obstructed their way. At last, an old soldier, who served as door-keeper and sergeant-at-arms, and who was hurrying with rapid steps through the saloon, met her, and passing to the right to get out of her way, while she turned to the same side to make room for him, they came violently against each other. The provoked soldier asked her what was her business. Prascovia, rather pleased with the question, presented him her paper, and desired him to deliver it to the senate. But he, taking her for a common beggar, seized her by the arm, and dragged her out of the room. She durst not re-enter, and remained the whole morning on the staircase, intending to present her petition to the first senator whom she should meet. She saw several persons alighting from their carriages, some decorated with stars, some with epaulets, and all in uniforms, in boots, and with swords. She thought that they were all generals, or officers of the army; and waiting all the time for a senator, who, from the idea she had conceived of these magistrates, was to be distinguished by something extraordinary, she had no opportunity of delivering her paper, Towards three o'clock, the palace emptied, and Prascovia, finding herself alone, left the senate, in great amazement at not having met with a senator, among the crowd she had seen that morning. Her hostess, to whom she made that remark, had great difficulty in making her understand, that a senator was made like any other man, and that the gentlemen she had seen were probably for the most part persons, to any one of whom she might safely have presented her petition.

On the next day, at the hour when the senate meets, she again took her seat on the stair-case, and offered her paper to every person that passed near her; hoping, by this means, to avoid her error of the preceding day, and that she should at last meet with some one of those great personages, of whom

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she still found it difficult to form any definite idea; but nobody cared to take her paper, She saw, at last, a corpulent gentleman with a red ribbon, and stars on each side of his red uniform coat, and a sword. "If this is not a senator," she whispered to herself, surely I shall never meet with one in my life." She advanced towards him, praying him to take charge of her petition; but a liveried servant stepped suddenly forward, and gently turned her aside, while the starred gentleman, who thought she asked alms, murmured a God help you!" and proceeded on his way.

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Prascovia went thus to the senate for two whole weeks, without any better success than on the first day often, wasted with the fatigue of standing on the cold and wet staircase, she seated herself on one of the steps, and endeavoured to read in the countenances of those who passed, some sign of compassion and benevolence; but probably nobody imagined what she wanted-this is inevitable in large cities. Opulence and misery, happiness and distress, elbow each other, and yet remain for ever separate; unless benevolence and pity, or the exertions of charitable persons bring them into closer connexion than accidental meetings.

One day, however, one of the clerks, who probably had already become acquainted with her face, stopped beside her, accepted the petition, and took from his pocket a packet of papers. The unfortunate girl began to feel some hope; but the packet contained only bank notes, from which the stranger took one of five roubles, put it in Prascovia's paper, and, returning it, quickly disappeared. The disappointed girl rose from her seat, and left the palace. "I am sure," said she to her hostess, "that if Mrs. Milin had a brother, who was a senator, he would have attended to my request, without knowing anything of me."

(To be continued.)

TO MARIAN.

BY J. BOLTON, ESQ.

Like to a rose just bursting into bloom,
Or like a violet shrinking from the sun,
Or like a pale star, shining 'mid the gloom,
To cheer the drooping heart and guide it on ;
Oh, such thou art-a being form'd to bless,
Gladdening my spirit with thy loveliness,

Fair as the white dove, when, upon the wing,
It floateth slowly through the sunny air;

More sweet thy breath than when from flow'rs of spring
The gentle winds the balmy odours bear :
My bark of hope when worldly tempests rage.
My fount of joy amid life's pilgrimage.

Bright eyes have glanc'd on me, and I have been
Caress'd by beauty in the festal hall-
Yes, I have mingled in the joyous scene,

When it did seem the young heart's carnival:
Perchance my features may have worn a smile,
And yet my spirit hath been sad the while.

I had imagin'd-it might be in dreams,

Or 'twixt a dreaming and a waking thought, When to the mind oft comes mysterious gleams

Of things and shapes with past and future wroughtI had imagin'd one whom I could love,

And with my memory that bright form I wove.

I nurs'd that beauteous image of the mind,
And it was with me in the banquet hour
Amid the festive group I sought to find

That form created by the fancy's power;
I found it not, and then I turn'd aside,
Yearning for that which ever seem'd denied.

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Fair form, sweet being, I have found thee now!
That blessed moment ne'er can I forget,
When, after fading of the day's proud glow,
My maiden beauty, first my gaze thou met;
I saw at once the image long enshrin'd
Within my heart, and fashion'd by the mind.

The stars were out upon that lovely night,
And the white clouds were sailing up on high,
And the moon glided in her bark of light,
With virgin majesty athwart the sky :

Star, cloud, and moon, oh! what were those to me?
My love, my Marian, I but thought of thee.

Thine eyes are dearer than the stars of heaven,
Thou art as pure as is the virgin moon,

Thy course more bright than that of white clouds driven,
Like silver isles, in the night's pallid noon;
The spell, the charm for which, in musing's lone,
My spirit pin'd, is all around thee thrown.

My waking dream of bliss it cannot fade;
The love, the light that liveth but in thee,
E'en when the dust upon mine heart is laid,
Shall be unquench'd in its idolatry:
Change, death, and worm ye are but for the clay-
The soul, the spirit, cannot know decay!

FEMALE ARTIFICE.

AN EXTRACT FROM A MS. JOURNAL.

Mr. Samuel Fisher, the inventor of the golden snuff, was acquainted with a widow lady of excellent character, who resided in Cork. This lady was inconsolable for the death of her husband: the day was spent by her in sighs, and incessant lamentations, and her pillow at night was moistened with the tears of her sorrow. Her husband, her dear husband, was the continual theme of her discourse, and she seemed to live for no other object but to recite his praises, and deplore his loss.

One morning, her friend Fisher found her in a state of mental agitation, bordering on distraction. Her departed love, she said, had appeared to her in the night, and most peremptorily ordered her to enter the vault, where his remains were deposited, and have the coffin opened. Mr. Fisher remonstrated with her on the absurdity of the idea: he said that the intensity of her sorrow had impaired her intellect; that the phantom was the mere creature of her imagination; and begged of her, at least, to postpone to some future period her intended visit to the corpse of her husband. The lady acquiesced for that time in his request; but the two succeeding mornings, the angry spirit of her spouse stoood at her bedside, and, with loud menaces, repeated his commands. Fisher, therefore, sent to the sexton, and matters being

arranged, the weeping widow and her friend attended in the dismal vault: the coffin was opened with much solemnity, and the faithful matron stooped down and kissed the claycold lips of her adored husband. Having reluctantly parted from the beloved corpse, she spent the remainder of the day in silent anguish. On the succeeding morning, Fisher, (who intended to sail for England on that day,) called to bid his afflicted friend adieu! The maid servant told him that the lady had not yet risen. "Tell her to get up," said Fisher; "I wish to give her a few words of consolation and advice before my departure.” "Ah, sir," said the smiling girl, "it would be a pity to disturb the new-married couple so early in the morning!" "What new-married couple?" "My mistress, sir, was married last night." "Married! impossible! what! the lady who so adored her deceased husband,-who was visited nightly by his ghost, and who, yesterday, so fervently kissed his corpse? Surely you jest!" Ah, sir!" said the maid, “ 'my late master, poor man, on his death-bed, made my mistress promise that she would never marry any man after his decease, till he and she should meet again, (which the good man, no doubt, thought would never happen till they met in heaven ;) and you know, my dear sir, you kindly introduced them to each other, face to face, yesterday. My mistress, sir, sends you her compliments, and thanks, together with this bride-cake, to distribute among your young friends."

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LA TRUIE SAVANTE.

A Frenchman with a friend once went to dine
At night, returning, overstock'd with wine,
Before a pig-sty door he took his station,
Supposing it a human habitation.

With heavy knocks he makes the door resound,
But not a breath disturbs the peace profound;

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At length, "Dites-moi quelle heure est-il ?" he cries,
Neuf, neuf," the sow with weary grunt replies.

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"Ma foi? fait-il si tard? ah! can it be?"

A young pig quickly answers, "Oui, oui, oui.”

WILLIAM L***.

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