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child in that matter, just as all clever men and charitable men are. At last, after waiting for a time, the gentleman came into the interior with a speaking trumpet in one hand and a small cine in the other, when be informed the company that there never was such a show before that is, having such a singularly wonderful combination of eccentricities as a fat lady and a pig that was learned ; and, as he would not keep them long, he'd begin at once with the pig. Accordingly, Trotter was ordered to come forth into the midst of the ring, so that the performance might cominence, which order he was just about obeying when Mrs. Smiggs called out, “ What, a nasty pig afore a lady what is fat?”

The gentleman was surprised, as also were the penny audience, and much more so when Rum Striker joined in the dispute on the side of. the corpulent lady, so that there was a row—such a row as only fat ladies can create, which ended in a regular fight one with another, which made the quietly-disposed persons leave the show to those who were inclined to be noisy.

After the old bone and Jerico had left the place, it appears there was a gigantic rumpus ; for the gentleman called both of them no better than they should be—which actually means nothing ; and then they went to it again, until, through exhaustion, &c., the fat lady fell into the arms of the black, when the curtain closed again.

The old man and Jerico went about the fair, out of one show into another, and saw all kinds of sights, which appeared to amuse them both amazingly; for when they got home to May's Buildings, little Jerico rattled away merrily a full report of everything she had seen, to the infinite delight of the Hartys.

It was by such means that the old bone brightened the path, the youthful path, of the beggar's child; and he felt the greatest pleasure in doing so, although he did not neglect the other objects of his charity, but rather tried all in his power to make every one that he met as happy as he could. For this God blessed his old heart and his old mind with that peace which passeth all understanding; and the dew which falls upon the earth to refresh it was a type of his course through this world of cares and sorrows—no, not cares and sorrows to the charitable ; for they are taken away from such influences, even though other men feel them, and really they deserve it.

CHAPTER XL. AND A HALF.

A SHORT CHAPTER, WHICH REPRESENTS MANY LONG YEARS.

Why, the House of Commons contains many little men who represent large constituencies, and so this chapter with regard to time. Reader, pray allow it to do so—in order that some effects may have arisen from causes, and whatever they be you shall be made acquainted with them.

Time sleeps in chimney-pots, and the smoke passes through it, and time rests upon the scales of the snake. Time—but stop! Time

July, 1845.–VOL. XLIII. NO. CLXXI.

went on as usual, and enveloped the world in darkness as well as in fogs and mists ; there were coffins, and there were bridal meetings, and all the usuals of society.

Time went up into heaven, and Time descended into the lowest depth of hell. So let this stand for it.

Dots and tittles, and small eyes to needles.

Dear reader, the next chapter will suppose-as the play-bills have it-years to have passed ; so that it is possible Miss Stiff may be heard of again, also the bone, Jerico, Richard Biddulph, and the rest ; but mind this, my finc fellow, no breaking off friendship-no cutting now ; no, we know one another too well for that. So adieu, my dear friend, until next month, when, please the pigs as well as the poultry, we will resume. So God bless you all !

A CUMBRIAN ODE TO THE MEMORY OF SOUTHEY.

Mountains, woods, and towering steeps,

Crowning Derwent's lovely dell,
Where the dark-leav'd ivy creeps

O'er the hermit's mould'ring cell.*

Where the bounding cataract + falls,

Gleaming through the distant brake,
Then a hidden streamlet rolls

Onward to the calm blue lake.

Where the sun, now low descending,

Shadows deep'ning o'er the vale,
Tints of eve are softly blending

Voices ling'ring on the gale.

Tune no more your chords of gladness

Joy from every heart has fed ;
Let your songs be songs of sadness-

Albion's laureate bard is dead.

Low beneath yon hallow'd tower.

Pointing upward to the skies,
Waiting his appointed hour,

Slumb'ring in the dust he lies.

• The ruins of the cell and oratory erected by St. Herbert in the seventh century are still to be seen on one of the woody islets of Derwentwater Lake.-See Southey's Colls., vol. 2. Lodore.

Tower of Crossthwaite church.

Oh, ye streams, and thou, Lodore !

Once ye could his song inspire ;
Now your plaintive notes no more

Mingle with the Muse's lyre.

When Redemption's glorious day

Dawn'd upon your northern land,
Oft arose the chaunted lay

By “ St. Herbert's islet strand.”

Once again your voices raise,

Yours is still the land of song ;
Nature owes her mead of praise

To the bard she lov'd so long.

Lasting as the saint's renown

Be the woodland poet's strain ;
Fresh the wreath that decks his crown,

Immortality his gain.

Southey! may thy mem'ry live

Long as Britain rules the seas
Long as Cumbria's oaks shall give

Music to the mountain breeze,

Sacred is the voice of sorrow

When the saint-like droop and die ;
Fair the “ promise of the morrow,"

Dear the mourner's parting sigh.

Honour'd minstrel! well thy worth

Claims the tribute of our love ;
May we hope, though lost to earth,

Thou hast gain'd a home above.

Thine a glorious task has been,

England's crown with song to grace ;
Favour'd bard of England's Queen,

Last, but loveliest of her race.

Thine to clothe with deathless fame

Feats by Britain's valour won,
And her peerless chieftain's name

Link for ever with thy own.

• The plaintive sound produced by the rustling of the wind among the trees and wild shrubs of the hills, especially upon the approach of a storm, is proverbial among the mountaineers of Cumberland.

Heroes, too, of nobler line,

Live, recorded by thy hand; Who, sustain’d by power divine,

Fought and won the promis's land.

Oh! if counsell'd by their story,

Thou hast gain'd their vict'ry now; Dead to earth's renown-her glory

All an empire can bestow.

Then may all who sadly mourn thee

Dwell with transport on the theme Where the angel Death has borne thee,

Bright shall be thy rising beam.

In the evening of thy day,

Sadness veil'd thy waning light; So the sun's declining ray

Darkens at th' approach of night.

But, as breaks the rosy morn

Ere the star of night has set, Shall thy spirit, heavenward borne,

Wake in fairer regions yet.

Brighter dreams await thee now

From a holier land of song;
Purer streams shall round thee flow,

Sainted forms around thee throng.

While, before thy raptur'd sight,

Like a banner wide unfurl'd, Dwells the Pure, the Infinite,

Thron'd in yon celestial world.

Past thy day of toil and strife ;

Through the twilight's mournful shade, Shalt thou rise to endless life

In thy lowly mansion laid.

Thou shalt rise to joy's glad fountain

Through the confines of the tomb,Like the stream from yonder mountain

Hast’ning to its ocean home.

FRANK MERVYN'S TEMPTATION.
A TALE FOR SPECULATORS.

BY MRS. ABDY. When Mr. Vansittart reduced the interest of the navy five per cents., the measure was considered to be exceedingly judicious and politic, but although very satisfactory to the nation, it was in many cases fatal to the individual ; people were not contented to be deprived of a fifth of their income by the government, but took immediate means to be deprived of every shilling of it by their own act and deed. There never was a period when such a phalanx of companies and societies started forth, all professing to “ give new lamps for old ones," or in other words, to take the poor remains of our mutilated navy fives, and give us, in lieu, shares that would pay from fifty to a hundred per cent. in the prettiest sounding investments ever heard of- not odious turnpike tolls and canal shares--but “Pearl Fisheries,” “Coral Fisheries,” Gold Mines,” and such dazzling names, the last in particular coming sweetly on the ear, and reminding us of the gay and gallant king of the gold mines, who wooed and won the charming All-fair, despite of her unwilling engagement to the yellow dwarf. Many people, however, seemed likely to starve in the midst of plenty; all these schemes professed to build up a fortune for us in a very little time, but the point was which would be “ safest and best;" which would do it most swiftly, and most securely. The world was not long suffered to languish for want of a guide; a certain Mr. Glossington most kindly volunteered to be gentleman-usher to the goddess of fortune, and to introduce timid novices into her immediate presence; he was conversant with all the plans and prospectuses of all the companies, and although he certainly gave a preference to a few, he was generously ready to allow that the very worst of them was inmeasurably superior to the English funds, as an investment of property. It was not quite casy to divine who Mr. Glossington was; he had been for a short time on the Stock Exchange ; he had also practised the law; be had occasionally volunteered his services, before the introduction of the calculating machine, to arrange the intricate accounts of gentlemen under temporary embarrassments, and he had now and then officiated as a sort of house agent, and undertoken, for a douceur of fifty or a hundred pounds, to bring farward a nonpareil tenant, who would pay double the rent that anybody else would, which nonpareil tenant-strange to say-was

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