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pitied, and whose greatest fault had been too much indulgence, and a misplaced confidence in the prudence of their favourite daughter. With some directions, respecting her funeral, the following pathetic lines were found, and some little money in the corner of the box was assigned to have them engraved on her tomb-stone.

VERSES FOR MY TOMB-STONE, IF EVER I SHALL HAVE ONES

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“ Here rest the reliques of a nymph undone,
Who dying,'wish'd her days had ne'er begun."

THE wretched victim of a quick decay,
Reliev'd from lise-on this cold bed of clay,
(The last and only refuge from my woes)
À lost, love-ruin'd female, I repose.

From the sad hour I listen’d to his charms,
Yielding, half-forc'd in the deceiver's arms,
To that, whose aweful veil hides ev'ry fault,
Sheltering my sufferings in this welcome vault;
When pamper’d, starv’d, abandon’d, or in drink,
My thoughts were rack'd in striving not to think;
Nor could rejected conscience gain thc pow'r
Of calm reflection, for one serious hour;
I durst not look to what I was before,
My soul shrunk back, and wish'd to be no more;
One step to vice, stole on without controul,
Till, step by step, perdition wreck'd the soul.

Of eye undaunted, and of touch impure,
Old, e'er of age, worn out, when scarce mature,
Daily debas’d, to stiflc my disgust
Of lile, which sunk me with the lowest dust;
Cover'd wih ge!!!, illection, dcbi, and want,
My home's a brothel and thc street my haunt;

1

Full seven long years in infamy I've pin’d,
And fondled, loath'd, and prey'd upon mankind,
Till, the full course of sin and vice gone through,
My shatter'd fabric fail'd at twenty-two;
Then death, with every horror in his train,
Clos'd the sad scene of riot, guilt, and pain.
O! could it shut the future from my view,
Nor dread eternity! my life renew;
Renew to anguish, and the deepest woe,
While endless ages never cease to flow!

Ye fair associates of my opening bloom!
Ol come and weep, and profit at my tomb-
To me sweet peace and virtue ne'er were known,
“ And peace, O virtue! peace is all thy own."
Let my short youth-my blighted beauty prove,
The satal poison of unlawful love;
66 Let jealous fears your every step attend,
Mark well the flatt'rer from the real friend."
Chaste keep the mind; prescrve the manners purc,
If peace at home, or love you would secure.
O! think how quick my foul career I ran,
The DUPE of passion, vanity, and man;
Then shun the path where soft temptation shine,
Your's bc the lesson--sad experience mine.

PASSAGES TRANSCRIBED

FROM

TH

BURNS' LETTERS.

By John Evans, A. M.

(Concluded from page 287.)
THIS world of ours, notwithstanding it has

many things in it, yet it has ever had this curse, that two or three people who would be the ! happier the oftener they met together, are almost,

without exception, always so placed as never to meet but cnce or twice a year, which, considering the few years of a man's life, is a very great evil ander the sun, which I do not recollect that Solo

mon has mentioned in his catalogue of the miseries of man.

I hope, and believe, that there is a state of existence beyond the grave, where the worthy of this life will renew their former intimacies, with this endearing addition, that we meet to part no more!

“ Tell us, ye dead,
Will none of you in pity disclose the secret,

What 'tis you are, and we must shortly be!" A thousand times have I made this apostrophe to the departed sons of men, but not one of thein has ever thought fit to answer the question. " O that some courteous ghost would blab it out!" but it cannot be ; you and I, my friend, must make the experiment by ourselves and for ourselves. However, I am so convinced that an unshaken faith in the doctrines of religion is not only necessary, by making us better men, but also by making us happier men, that I shall take every care that your Îittle godson, and every little creature that shall call me father, shall be taught them. So ends this heterogenous letter, written at this wild place of the world, (Annan Water Foot, Aug. 22, 1792,) in the intervals of my labour of discharging a vessel of rum from Antigua.

Alas, Madam! who would wish for many years! What is it but to drag existence until our joys gradually expire and leave us in a night of misery like the gloom, which blots out tlic stars one by one from the face of night, and leaves us without a ray of comfort in the howling waste !

Of all the qualities we assign to the author and director of nature, by far the most enviable is-to

be able to wipe away all tears from all eyes. what insignificant sordid wretches are they, however chance may have loaded them with wealth, who go to their graves, to their magnificent mausoleums, with hardly the consciousness of having made one poor honest heart happy!

Still there are two great pillars that bear us up amid the wreck of misfortune and misery. The ONE is composed of the different modifications of a certain noble stubborn something in man, known by the names of courage, fortitude, magnanimity. The other is made up of these feelings and sentiments which, however the sceptic may deny then, or the enthusiast disfigure them, are yet, I am convinced, original and component parts of the human soul, those senses of the mind, if I may

be allowed the expression, which connect us with, and link us to those awful obscure realities, an allpowerful and equally beneficent God, and a world to come beyond death and the grave! The first gives the nerve of combat while a ray of hope beams on the field--the last pours the balm of comfort into the wounds which time can never cure.

doors I do not remember, my dear-Cunningham, that you and I ever talked on the subject of religion at all. I know some who laugh at it, as the trick of the crafty few to lead the undiscerning MANY; or, at most, as an uncertain obscurity, which mankind can never know any thing of, and with which they are fools if they give themselves much to do. Nor would I quarrel with a man for his irreligion any more than I would for his want of a musical ear. I would regret that he was shut out from what, to me and others, were such superlative sources of enjoyment. It is, in this point of view, and for this reason, that I will deeply imbue the mind of every child of mine with religion. If my son should happen to be a man of feeling, sentiment and taste, I shall thus add largely to his enjoyments. Let me flatter myself that this sweet little fellow, who is just now running about my desk, will be a man of a melting, ardent, glowing heart, and an imagination delighted with the painter, and rapt with the poet. Let me figure him wandering out in a sweet evening, to inhale the balmy gales and enjoy the growing luxuriance of the spring, himself the while in the blooming youth of life. He looks abroad on all nature, and through nature up to nature's God! His soul by swift delighting degrees is wrapt above this sublunary sphere, until he can be silent no longer, and burst out into the glorious enthusiasm of Thom. son

“ These, as they change, Almighty Father, these Are but the varied God. The rolling year

Is full of thee!") And so on in all the spirit and ardour of that charming hymn. These are no ideal pleasuresthey are real delights-and I ask, what of the delights among the sons of men are superior, not to say equal, to them? And they have this precious vast advantage, that conscious virtue stamps them for heaven, and lays hold on them to bring herself into the presence of a witnessing, judging, and approving God:

There had much need be many pleasures annexed to the estates of husband and father, for, God knows, they have many peculiar cares.

I cannot describe to you the anxious sleepless hours these ties frequently give me. I see a train of helpless

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