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So he evading said: My evil fate
| Who to his wife and children would have told, Upon my comforts throws a gloom of late: They had an uncle, and the man was old; Matilda writes not; and, when last she wrote, Till every girl and boy had learn’d to prate I read no letter—'twas a trader's note,-. Of uncle George, his gout, and his estate. Yours I received, and all that formal prate Thug lad we parted; but as now thou art, That is so hateful, that she knows I hate. I must not lose thee-No! I cannot part; Dejection reigns, I feel, but cannot tell Is it in human nature to consent, Why upon me the dire infection fell: To give up all the good that heaven has lent, Madmen may say that they alone are sane, All social ease and comfort to forego, And all beside have a distemper'd brain; And live again the solitary? No! Something like this I feel, - and I include We part no more, dear Richard ! thou wilt Myself among the frantic multitude :
need But, come, Matilda writes, although but ill, Thy Brother's help to teach thy boys to read; And home has health, and that is comfort still. And I should love to hear Matilda's psalm,
To keep my spirit in a morning-calm,
And feel the soft devotion that prepares George stopp'd his horse, and with the The soul to rise above its earthly cares;
kindest look | Then thou and I, an independent two, Spoke to his Brother,-earnestly he spoke, May have our parties, and defend them too; As one who to his friend his heart reveals, Thy liberal notions, and my loyal fears; And all the hazard with the comfort feels: Will give us subjects for our future years; Soon as I loved thee, Richard, and I loved We will for truth alone contend and read, Before my reason had the will approved, And our good Jacques shall oversee our creed. Who yet right early had her sanction lent, And with affection in her verdict went, So noon I felt, that tbus a friend to gain, Such were my views; and I had quickly made And then to lose, is but to purchase pain: Some bold attempts my Brother to persuade Daily the pleasure grew, then sad the day To think as I did; but I knew too well, That takes it all in its increase away!
Whose now thou wert, with whom thou Patient thou wert, and kind, - but well I
wert to dwell; knew
And why, I said, return him doubtful home, The husband's wishes, and the father's too ; Six months to argue if he then would come I saw how check'd they were, and yet in Some six months after ? and, beside, I know
secret grew: | That all the happy are of course the slow; Once and again I urged thee to delay And thou at home art happy, there wilt stay, Thy purposed journey, still deferr'd the day, Dallying 'twixt will and will-not many a day, And still on its approach the pain increased, And fret the gloss of hope, and hope itself Till my request and thy compliance ceased ;)
away. I could not further thy affection task, Nor more of one so self-resisting ask; But yet to lose thee, Richard, and with thee Jacques is my friend ; to him I gave my heart: All hope of social joys-it cannot be.
You see my Brother, see I would not part; Nor could I bear to meet thee as a boy
Wilt thou an embassy of love disdain? From school, his parents, to obtain a joy,
Go to this sister, and my views explain; That lessens day by day, and one will soon
Gloss o'er my failings, paint me with a grace destroy
That Love beholds, put meaning in my face; No! I would have thee, Brother, all my own,
Describe that dwelling; talk how well we live, To grow beside me as my trees have grown;
And all its glory to our village give; For ever near me, pleasant in my sight,
Praise the kind sisters whom we love so much, And in my mind, my pride and my delight.
delicht. And thine own virtues like an artist touch. Yet will I tell thee, Richard ; had I found
| Tell her, and here my secret purpose show, Thy mind dependent and thy heart unsound. I That no dependence shall my sister know; Hadst thou been poor, obsequious, and dis
Hers all the freedom that she loves shall be,
And mine the debt,- then press her to agrec;
posed With any wish or measure to have closed, Say, that my Brother's wishes wait on hors, Willing on me and gladly to attend,
And his affection what she wills prefers. The younger brother, the convenient friend; Thy speculation its reward had made Like other ventures -- thon hadst gain'd in Forgive me, Brother,--these my words and
trade; What reason urged, or Jacqaes estecm'a Our friendly Rector to Matilda bore;
At large, at length, were all my views exThine had it been, and I, a trader too,
plain'd, Had paid my debt, and home my Brother And to my joy my wishes I obtain'd.
Dwell in that house, and we shall still be near, Nor glad nor sorry that he came or went; Absence and parting I no more shall fear;
Dwell in thy home, and at thy will exclude Here, on this lawn, thy boys and girls shall All who shall dare upon thee to intrude.
run, Again thy pardon,-'twas not my design And play thcir gambols when their tasks are To give surprise; a better view was mine:
done; But let it pass—and yet I wish'd to see There, from that window, shall their mother That meeting too: and happy may it be!
The happy tribe, and smile at all they do;
While thou, more gravely, hiding thy Thus George had spoken, and then look'd
Shalt cry: 0! childish! and enjoy the sight. And smiled as one who then his road had
Follow ! he cried, and briskly urged his horse:
sayLost, but yet knowing something of the way; Stay, as you will do any thing-but stay; Till a wood clear'd, that still conceal'd the Be, I dispute not, steward—what you will,
Take your own name, but be my Brother Richard the purchase of his Brother knew;
still. And something flash'd upon his mind not clear, And hear me, Richard! if I should offend, But much with pleasure mix’d, in part with Assume the patron, and forget the friend;
If aught in word or manner I express As one who wandering through a stormy That only touches on thy happiness;
If I be peevish, humoursome, unkind, Sees his own home, and gladdens at the sight, Spoil'd as I am by cach subservient mind; Yet feels some doubt if fortune bad decreed For I am humour'd by a tribe who make That lively pleasure in such time of need; Me more capricious for the pains they take So Richard felt-but now the mansion came To make me quiet; shouldst thou ever feel In view direct,- he knew it for the same; A wound from this, this leave not time to There too the garden-walk, the elms design'd
heal, To guard the peaches from the eastern wind; But let thy wife her cheerful smile withhold, And there the sloping glass, that when he Let her be civil, distant, cantiour, cold;
Then shall I woo forgiveness, and repent, Gives the sun's vigour to the ripening vines— Nor bear to lose the blessings Heaven has lent. It is my Brother's !-No! he answers, No! 'Tis to thy own possession that we go; It is thy wife's, and will thy children's be, But this was needless — there was joy of Earth, wood, and water!-all for thine and
All felt the good that all desired t' impart; Bought in thy name - Alight, my friend, Respect, affection, and esteem combined,
In sundry portions ruled in every mind; I do beseech thee, to thy proper home; And o'er the whole an unobtrusive air There wilt thou soon thy own Matilda view, Of pious joy, that urged the silent prayer, She knows our deed, and she approves it too; And bless'd the new-born feelings - Tiere Before her all our views and plans were laid,
we close And Jacques was there t'explain and to per- Our Tale of Tales!--Health, reader, and suade.
THE PARISH REGISTER.
P A R T I. | Projecting thatch the woodbine's branches
And turn their blossoms to the casement's top:
And much that Taste untaught and unre-
strain'd Vitali auxilio,
Surveys delighted; there she lovce to trace, Vagituque locum lagubri complet, ut æquum est,
In one gay picture, all the royal race; Cui tantum in vita restat transire malorum.
Around the walls are heroes, lovers, kings;
shows And who of old or young,or nymphs or swains, What grateful duty to his God he owes ; Are lost to life, its pleasures and its pains. Who gives to him a happy home, where he No Muse I ask, before my view to bring Lives and enjoys his freedom with the free; 'The humble actions of the swains I sing. When kings and queens, dethroned, insulted, How pass'd the youthful, how the old their
Are all these blessings of the poor denied. Who sank in sloth,and who aspired to praise; There is King Charles, and all his Golden Their tempers,manners, morals,customs,arts,
Rules, What parts they had, and how they 'mployd Who proved Misfortune's was the best of their parts;
schools : By what elated, soothed, seduced, depress'd, And there his son, who, tried by years of pain, Full well I know-these records give the rest. Proved that misfortunes may be sent in vain. Is there a place, save one the poet sees, The magic-mill that grinds the gran’nams A land of love, of liberty and ease;
young, Where labour wearies not, nor cares suppress
Close at the side of kind Godiva hung; Thi' eternal flow of rustic happiness ;
She, of her favourite place the pride and joy, Where no proud mansion frowns in awful Of charms at once most lavish and most coy,
By wanton act the purest fame could raise, Or keeps the sunshine from the cottage-gate; And give the boldest deed the chastest praise. Where young and old, intent on pleasure, There stands the stoutest Ox in England fed;
There fights the boldest Jew, WhitechapelAnd half man's life is holiday and song ?
bred; Vain search for scenes like these! no view And here Saint Monday's worthy votaries appears,
live, By sighs unruffled or unstain'd by tears; In all the joys that ale and skittles give. Since Vice the world subdued and waters Now lo! in Egypt's coast that hostile fleet,
By nations dreaded and by Nelson beat; Auburn and Eden can no more be found. And here shall soon another triumph come, llence good and evil mix'd, but man has A deed of glory in a day of gloom ;
Distressing glory! grievous boon of fate! And power to part them, when he feels the The proudest conquest, at the dearest rate.
On shelf of deal beside the cuckoo-clock, Toil, care, and patience bless th'abstemious of cottage-reading rests the chosen stock;
Learning we lack, not books, but have a kind Fear, shame, and want the thoughtless herd For all our wants, a meat for every mind :
The tale for wonder and the joke for whim, Behold the cot! where thrives th' indus- The half-sung sermon and the half-groan'd trious swain,
hymn. Source of his pride, his pleasure, and his gain; No need of classing; each within its place Screen'd from the winter's wind, the sun's The feeling finger in the dark can trace;
First from the corner, farthest from the wall, Smiles on the window and prolongs the day; Such all the rules, and they suffice for all. farm
There pious works for Sunday's use are These are the peasant's joy, when, placed found;
at ease, Companions for that Bible newly bound; Half his delighted offspring mount his knees. That Bible,bought by sixpence weekly saved, To every cot the lord's indulgent mind Has choicest prints by famous hands en-Has a small space for garden-ground assign'd;
Here — till return of morn dismiss'd the Has choicest notes by many a famous head, Such as to doubt have rustic readers led; The careful peasant plies the sinewy arm, Have made them stop to reason why? and Warm'd as he works,and casts his look around
On every foot of that improving ground: And, where they once agreed, to cavil now. It is his own he sees; his master's eye O! rather give me commentators plain, Peers not about, some secret fault to spy ; Who with no deep researches vex the brain; Nor voice severe is there, nor censure Who from the dark and doubtful love to
Hope, profit, pleasure,-they are all his own. And hold their glimmering tapers to the Here grow the humble cives, and, hard by sun;
them, Who simple truth with nine-fold reasons The leek with crown globose and reedy back,
stem; And guard the point no enemies attack. High climb his pulse in many an even row. Bunyan's famed Pilgrim rests that shelf Deep strike the ponderous roots in soil upon,
below; A genius rare but rude was honest John; And herbs of potent smell and pungent Not one who, early by the Muse beguiled,
taste, Drank from her well the waters undefiled; Give a warm relish to the night's repast. Not one who slowly gain'd the hill sublime, Apples and cherries grafted by his hand, Then often sipp'd and little at a time; And cluster'd nuts for neighbouring market But one who dabbled in the sacred springs,
stand. And drank them muddy, mix'd with baser Northus concludes his labour; near the things.
cot, Here to interpret dreams we read the rules, The reed-fence rises round some fav'rite spot; Science our own ! and never taught in schools; Where rich carnations, pinks with purple In moles and specks we Fortune's gifts dis
Proud hyacinths, the least some florist's prize, And Fate's fix'd will from Nature's wander-Tulips tall - stemm’d and pounced auriculas ings learn.
rise. Of Hermit Quarle we read, in island rare, Here on a Sunday-eve, when service ends, Far from mankind and seeming far from Meet and rejoice a family of friends ;
All speak aloud, are happy and are free, Safe from all want, and sound in every limb; And glad they seem, and gaily they agree. Yes! there was he, and there was care with What, though fastidious ears may shun him.
the speech, Unbound and heap'd, these valued works Where all are talkers and where none can beside,
teach ; Lay humbler works, the pedlar's pack sup- Where still the welcome and the words are plied;
old, Yet these, long since, have all acquired a And the same stories are for ever told;
Yet theirs is joy that,bursting from the heart. The wandering Jew has found his way to Prompts the glad tongue these nothings to fame;
impart; And fame, denied to many a labour'd song, That forms these tones of gladness we despise, Crowns Thumb the great, and Hickerthrift | That lifts their steps, that sparkles in their the strong.
eyes; There too is he, by wizard-power upheld, That talks or laughs or runs or shouts or Jack, by whose arm the giant-brood were
And speaks in all their looks and all their Ilis shoes of swiftness on his feet he placed ;
ways. His coat of darkness on his loins he braced; Fair scenes of peace! ye might detain us His sword of sharpness in his hand he took, I
long, And off the heads of doughty giants stroke: But vice and misery now demand the song ; Their glaring eyes beheld no mortal near; And turn our view from dwellings simply No sound of feet alarm'd the drowsy ear;
neat, No English blood their pagan sense could | To this infected row, we term our street.
Here, in cabal, a disputatious crew But heads dropt headlong, wondering why Each evening meet; the sot, the cheat, the they fell.
Riota are nightly heard ;-the curse, the cries See! As we gaze, an infant lifta its head,
An infant's cry once waken'd in her breast; And sometimes life, and sometimes food And daily prattles, as her round she takes, demand :
(With strong resentment) of the want she Boys, in their first-stol'n raga, to swear begin,
makes. And girls, who heed not dress, are skill'd Whence all these woes? — From want of in gin:
virtuous will, Snarers and smugglers here their gains Of bonest shame, of time-improving skill;
From want of care t'employ the vacant hour, Ensnaring females here their victims hide; And want of ev'ry kind but want of power. And here is one, the sibyl of the row, Here are no wheels for either wool or flax, Who knows all secrets, or affects to know; But packs of cards—made up of sundry packs; Seeking their fate, to her the simple run, Here is no clock, nor will they turn the glass, To her the guilty, theirs awhile to shun; And see how swift th' important moments Mistress of worthless arts, depraved in will,
pass ; Her care unblest and unrepaid her skill, Here are no books, but ballads on the wall, Slave to the tribe, to whose command she Are some abusive, and indecent all;
Pistols are here, unpair'd; with nets and And poorer than the poorest maid she dupes.
hooks, Between the road - way and the walls, of- of every kind, for rivers, ponds, and brooks;
| An ample Alask, that nightly rovers fill Jovades all eyes and strikce on every sense : With recent poison from the Dutchman's still; There lie, obscene, at every open door, A box of tools, with wires of various size, Heaps from the hearth and sweepings from | Frocks, wign, and hats, for night- or daythe floor,
disguise, And day by day the mingled masses grow, And bludgeons stout to gain or guard a prize. As sinks are disembogued and kennels flow. To every house belongs a space of ground, There hungry dogs from hungry children of equal size, once fenced with paling round;
That paling now by klothful wante destroy'd, There pigs and chickens quarrel for a meal; Dead gorse and stumps of elder fill the void; There dropsied infants wail without redress, Save in the centre-spot, whose walls of clay And all is want and wo and wretchedness : Hide bots and striplings at their drink or play: let should these boys, with bodies bronzed Within, a board, beneath a tiled retreat,
| Allures the bubble and maintains the cheat; High-swoln and hard, outlive that lack of Where heavy ale in spots like varnish shows,
Where chalky tallies yet remain in rows; Forced on some farm, the unexerted strength, Black pipes and broken jugs the seats defile, Though loth to action, is compellid at length, The walls and windows, rhymes and reckWhen warm'd by health, as serpents in the
nings vile; spring,
Prints of the meanest kind disgrace the door, Aside their slough of indolence they Aling. And cards, in curses torn, lie fragments on Tet, ere they go, a greater evil comes
the floor. See! crowded beds in those contiguous rooms; Here his poor bird th' inhuman cocker Bede but ill parted, by a paltry screen
brings, of paper'd lath or curtain dropt between ;| Arms his hard heel and clips his golden wings; Danghters and sons to yon compartments with spicy food th' impatient spirit feeds,
And shouts and curses as the battle bleeda. And parents here beside their children sleep : Struck through the brain, deprived of both Ye who have power, these thoughtless people
The vanquish'd bird must combat till he dies; Nor let the ear be first to taint the heart. Must faintly peck at his victorious foe, Come! search within, nor right nor smell And reel and stagger at each feeble blow:
When fallen, the savage grasps his dabbled The true physician walks the foulest ward.
plumes, See! on the floor, what frowzy patches rest! His blood - staind arms for other deaths What nauseous fragments on yon fractured
And damns the craven-fowl, that lost his What downy dust beneath yon window-seat!
stake, And round these posts that serve this bed And only bled and perish'd for his sake.
Such are our peasants, those to whom Thin bed where all those tatter'd garments
we yield lie,
Praise with relief, the fathers of the field; Worn by each sex, and now perforce thrown And these who take from our reluctant hands,