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My uncle took up his pipe and puffed away, while I I was obliged to confess that I had delayed to purchase spoise; and, when I had said all that I could devise, I sat them till after we left Pekin; and that the trunks were • silent ; for I saw, by the looks of all present, that I put on board before they were all procured at Canton. had not mended the matter. My aunt pursed up her My vile habit of procrastination! How did I suffer for it mouth, and “wondered, if she must tell the plain truth, at this moment! Lucy began to make excuses for me, that 30 great a scholar as Mr. Basil could not, when it which made me blame myself the more ; she said, that as must give him so little trouble to indite a letter, write a to her fan, it would have been of little or no use to her ; few lines to an uncle, who had begged it so often, and who that she was sure she should have broken it before it had had ever been a good friend."

been a week in her possession; and that, therefore, she was “ Say nothing of that,” said my uncle :"I rn to glad that she had it not. The children were clamorous in have that put into account. I loved the boy, and all their grief for the loss of the boat, the tumbler, and the could do was done of course ; that's nothing to the pur-calibash boxes ; but Lucy contrived to quiet them in time, pose ; but the longest day I have to live, I'll never trouble and to make my peace with all the younger part of the fahim with begging a letter from him no more. For now 1 mily. To reinstate me in my uncle's good graces was imsee he does not care a fig for me; and of course I do not possible ; he would only repeat to her,—“ The young man care a fig for he. Lucy, hold up your head, girl; and has lost my good opinion ; he will never do any good. don't look as if you were going to be hanged.”

From a child upwards, he has always put off doing every. My cousin Lucy was the only person present who seemed thing he ought to do. He will never do any good ; he will to have any compassion for me ; and, as I lifted up my never be any thing." eyes to look at her when her father spoke, she appeared to My aunt was not my friend, because she suspected that me quite beautiful. I had always thought her a pretty Lucy liked me ; and she thought her daughter might do girl, but she never struck me as any thing very extraordi. much better than marry a man who had quitted the profesnary till this moment. I was very sorry that I had of- sion to which he was bred, and was, as it seemed, little fended my uncle; I saw he was seriously displeased, and likely to settle to any other. My pretensions to genius and that his pride, of which he had a large portion, had con- my literary qualifications were of no advantage to me, quered his affection for me.

either with my uncle or my aunt; the one being only a “ 'Tis easier to lose a friend than gain one, young man,” good farmer, and the other only a good housewife. They said he; “and, take my word for it, as this world goes, it contented themselves with asking me, coolly, what I had is a foolish thing to lose a friend for want of writing a let. ever made by being an author? And, when I was forced to ter or so. Here's seven years I have been begging a letter answer, nothing, they smiled upon me in scorn. My pride now and then, and could not get one. Never wrote a line was roused, and I boasted that I expected to receive at least to me before you went to China ; should not have kuown a £600 for my Voyage to China, which I hoped to complete word about it but for my wife, who met you by mere in a few weeks. My aunt looked at me with astonishment; chance in London, and gave you some little commissions and, to prove to her that I was not passing the bounds of for the children, which it seems you forgot till it was too truth, I adred that one of my travelling companions had, late. Then after you came back, never wrote to me." as I was credibly informed, received a thousand pounds for

“ And even not to write a line to give one notice of his his narrative, to which mine would certainly be far supe. coming here to-night," added my aunt.

rior. “Oh, as to that,” replied my uncle, "he can never find “When it is done, and when you have the money in our larder at a nonplus; we have no dishes for him dressed your hand to show us, I shall believe you," said my aunt; Chinese fashion ; but as to roast beef of old England, which, and then, and not till then, you may begin to think of I take it, is worth all the foreign meats, he is welcome to it, my Lucy." and to as much of it as he pleases. I shall always be glad “ He shall never have her," said my uncle ; "he will to see him as an acquaintance, and so forth, as a good never come to good. He shall never have her." Christian ought, but not as the favourite he used to be During my stay at my uncle's, received several letters that it is out of the question ; for things canno: be boch from my father, inquiring how my work went on, and done and undone, and time that's past cannot come back urging me to proceed as rapidly as possible, lest another again, that is clear; and cold water thrown on a warm Voyage to China, which it was reported was now compos. heart puts it out; and there's an end of the matter. Lucy, ing by a gentleman of high reputation, should come out and bring me my night-cap."

preclude mine for ever. cannot account for my folly ; Lucy, I think, sighed once, and I am sure I sighed above the power of habit is imperceptible to those who submit a dozen times; but my uncle put on his red night-cap, and passively to its tyranny. From day to day I continned heeded us not. I was in hopes that the next morning he procrastinating and sighing, till at last the fatal news came would have been better disposed toward me, after having that “ Sir George Stawiton's History of the Embassy to slept off his anger. The moment that I appeared in the China," in two volumes quarto, was actually published. moruing, the children, who had been in bed when I ar And now two melancholy, idle, years passed over Basil, rived the preceding night, crowded round me; and one cried, who all the while deplored that he could not marry Lucy,

“Cousin Basil, have you brought me the tumbler you and every day resolved to begin one of his thousand schemes promised me from China ?”

of advancing himself to-morrow. At this time his father “ Cousin Basil, where's my boat ?"

died, and left Basil, though sorrowing and repenting, richer Oh, Basil, did you bring me the the calibash box that than he either expected or deservedl; and though Farmer you promised me?"

Lowe persisted in refusing his consent to his daughter “And pray,” cried my aunt, “ did you bring my Lucy marrying a man of a putting off temper, Lucy's mother th fau that she commissioned you to get?"

was softened on hearing of the inheritance, and she pro. “ No, I'll warrant," said iny uncle. “He that cannot mised to befriend hiin, if for one six months he would atbring himself to write a letter in the course of seven years, tend to business, and show that he could come to yood. to his friends, will not be apt to trouble his head about their With this motive Basil persevered ; and at the end of his foolish commissions, when he is in foreign parts."

term claimed the reward. But Farmer Lowe was not yet Though I was abashed and vexed, I summoned sufficient convinced of the durability of this wonderful and sudden courage to reply that I had not neglected to execute the com- reformation. He would not give his consent, nor would inissions of any of my friends ; but that, by an unlucky Lucy marry without it. It was in vain, says Basil, that accident, the basket into which I had packed all their things I combated her resolution : I alternately resented and dewas washed overboard.

plored the weakness which induced Lucy to sacrifice ler “ Hum !” said my uncle.

own happiness and mine the obstinate prejudies of a “ And pray,” said my aunt, “why were they all packed father ; yet I could not avoid respecting her the more for in a basket? Why were not they put into your trunks, her adhering to what she believed to be her duty. The where they might have been safe :"

sweetness of temper, gentleness of disposition, and filial

piety, which she showed on this trying occasion, endeared , his attention to his proper business. Her advice Basil her to me beyond expression.

would have taken if he had been able, but habit was powHer father, notwithstanding his determination to be as erful, and before applying again to business, he had to immovable as a rock, began to manifest symptoms of inter- finish a pamphlet against government, which was to make bal agitation; and one night, after breaking his pipe, and his fortune, and bring all the Whigs to his shop. And urowing down the tongs and poker twice, which Lucy thus time passed, business was more and more neglected, twice replaced, he exclaimed, “ Lucy, girl, you are a fool! and Basil abandoning his involved affairs in despair, was and, what is worse, you are growing into a mere shadow. declared a bankrupt, and thrown into the King's Bench. You are breaking my heart. Why I know this man, this We must now adopt his own words. My wife's relations Basil, this cursed nephew of mine, will never come to good. refused to give me any assistance; but her father offered to But cannot you marry him without my consent ?"

receive lier and her little boy, on condition that she would ['pon this hint Lucy's scruples vanished; and, a few part from me, and spend the remainder of her days with days afterward, we were married. Prudence, virtue, pride, them. This she positively refused ; and I never shall forluve, every strong motive which can act upon the human get the manner of her refusal. Her character rose in ad. mind, stimulated me to exert myself to prove that I was versity. With the utmost feminine gentleness and delicacy, Torthy of this most amiable woman. A year passed away, she had a degree of courage and fortitude which I have and my Luey said that she had n10 reason to repent of her seldom seen equalled in any of my own sex. She followed choice. She took the most affectionate pains to convince me to prison, and supported my spirits by a thousand dai y ber father that she was perfectly happy, and that he had | instances of kindness. During eighteen mouths that she judged of me too harshly. His delight, at seeing his passed with me in a prison, which we then thought must be danghter happy, vanquished his reluctance to acknowledge my abode for life, she never, by word or look, reminded that he had changed his opinion. I never shall forget the me that I was the cause of our misfortunes : on the conpleasure I felt at hearing hiin confess that he had been too trary, she drove this idea from my thoughts with all positive, and that his Lucy had made a good match for the address of female affection. I cannot, even at this herself.

distance of time, recall these things to my memory without Alas! when I had obtained this testimony in my favour, tears. when I had established a character for exertion and punc What a woman, what a wife had I reduced to distress! tiality, I began to relax in my efforts to deserve it: I in. I never saw her, even in the first months of our marriage, dulgal myself in my old habits of procrastination. My so cheerful and so tender as at this period. She seemed to cistomers and country correspondents began to complain have no existence but in me, and in our little boy; of whom that their letters were unanswered, and that their orders she was doa tingly fond. He was at this time just able to were neglected. Their remonstrances became more and run about and talk ; his playful caresses, his thoughtless more urgent in process of tine; and nothing but actually gaiety, and at times a certain tone of compassion for poor Heing the dates of their letters could convince me that they papa were very touching. Alas! he little foresaw • *. were in the right, and I was in the wrong. An old friend But let me go on with my history, if I can, without anof my father's, a rich gentleman, who loved books and ticipation. bought all that were worth buying, sent me, in March, an Among my creditors was a Mr. Nun, a paper-maker, order for books to a considerable amount. In April he who, from his frequent dealings with me, had occasion to wrote to remind me of his first letter.

see something of my character and of my wife's; he admired

April 3. her, and pitied me. He was in easy circumstances, and *My dear Sir,~Last month I wrote to request that you delighted in doing all the good in his power. One morning udald send me the following books :- I have been much my Lucy came into my room with a face radiant with joy. disappointed by not receiving them ; and I request you “My love," said she, “ Jiere is Mr. Nun below, waiting * will be so good as forward them immediately. I am, my to see you; but he says he will not see you till I have told drar Sir, yours sincerely,

J. C. you the good news. He has got all our creditors to enter In Maş he wrote to me again.

into a compromise, and to set you at liberty." Dear Sir, I am much surprised at not having yet re I was transported with joy and gratitude: our benevoceived the books I wrote for last March-beg to know lent friend was waiting in a hackney-coach to carry us the cause of this delay; and am, dear Sir, yours, &c. J. C. away from prison. When I began to thank him, he stop

This reprimand had little effect upon nie, because, at the ped me with a blunt declaration that I was not a bit time when I received it, I was intent upon an object, in obliged to him; for that, if I had been a man of straw, he comparison with which the trade of a bookseller appeared would have done just the same for the sake of my wife, absulntely below my consideration. I was inventing a set whom he looked upon to be one or other the best woman of new taxes for the minister, for which I expected to be he had ever seen, Mrs. Nun always excepted. Itherally rewarded. Like many men of genius, I was al He proceeded to inform me how he had settled my ways disposed to think that my fortune was to be made by affairs, and how he had obtained from my creditors a small some extraordinary exertion of talent, instead of the vulgar allowance for the immediate support of myself and family. Lucans of daily industry. I was ever searching for some He had given up the third part of a considerable sum due short ont to the temple of l'ame, instead of following the to himself. As my own house was shut up, he insisted braten road.

upon taking us home with him: “Mrs. Nun," he said, I was a pablisher, as well as a bookseller, and was as “had provided a good dinner; and he must not have her sailed by a tribe of rich and poor authors. The rich com- ducks and green pease upon the table, and no friends to eat plained continually of delays that affected their fame; the them." Oor of delays that concerned their interest, and sometimes Never were ducks and green pease more acceptable; never their very existence. I was cursed with a compassionate was a dinner eaten with more appetite, or given with more as well as with a procrastinating temper ; and I frequently good-will. I have often thought of this dinner, and compared atraned money to my poor authors, to compensate for the hospitality of this simple-hearted man with the ostenta. my neglect to settle their accounts, and to free myself from tion of great folks, who give splendid entertainments to those the tormeut of their reproaches.

who do not want them. In trifles and in matters of consen About this time Basil put a helping hand to his disas- quence this Mr. Nun was one of the most liberal and una.f trous fortune hy losing a MSS., which the author valued fectedly generons men I ever knew; but the generous actions at Luh00, and for which he accordingly prosecuted the loser, of men in middle life are lost in obscurity. No matter. and obtained that sum as damages. His wife's relations, They do not act from the love of fame; they act from a who saw the trial in the newspapers, were enraged at this better motive, and they have their reward in their own accurrence; but her patience and kindness continued unex. hearts. hausted, and her gentle influence was ever exerted to dis As I was passing through Mr. Nun's warehouse, I was Huade her husband from his various schemes, and to give thinking of writing something on this subject ; but whe

ther it shonld be a poetic effusion, in the form of “ An Ode As we rowed away I looked at my wife and child, and to him who least expects il,” or a prose work, under the reproached myself with having indulged in the luxury of title of “ Modern Parallels," in the manner of Plutarch, I generosity perhaps at their expense. had not decided, when I was roused from my reverie by my My wife's relation, Mr. Croft, received us better than wife, who pointing to a large bale of paper that was di- she expected, and worse than I hoped. He had the face of rected to “ Ezekiel Croft, merchant, Philadelphia," ask. an acute money-making man; his manners were methodied me if I knew that this gentleman was a very near rela- cal; caution was in his eye, and prudence in all his motion of her mother? “ Is he, indeed ?” said Mr. Nun. tions. In our first half hour's conversation be convinced “ Then I can assure you that you have a relation of whom me that he deserved the character he had obtained, of being you have no occasion to be ashamed : he is one of the most upright and exact in all his dealings. His ideas were just respectable merchants in Philadelphia."

and clear, but confined to the objects immediately relating “He was not very rich when he left this country about to his business; as to his heart, he seemed to have no nosix years ago," said Lucy.

tion of general philanthropy, but to have perfectly leamed “He has a very good fortune now," answered Mr. Nun. by rote his duty to his neighbour. He appeared disposed

“ And has he made this very good fortune in six years ?" | to do charitable and good-natured actions from reason, and cried I. “My dear Lucy, I did not know that you had not from feeling ; because they were proper, not merely be. any relations in America. I have a great mind to go over cause they were agreeable. I felt that I should respect, but there myself.”

never love him; and that he would never either love or “ Away from all our friends said Lucy.

respect me, because the virtue which he held in the highest “ I shall be ashamed,” replied I,“ to see them after all veneration was that in which I was most deficient-pulicthat has happened. A bankrupt cannot have many friends tuality. The best thing that I can possibly do is to go over to a new But I will give, as nearly as I can, my first conversation world, where I may establish a new character, and make with him; and from that a better idea of his character may a new fortune.”

be formed than I can afford by any description. My Lucy consented to accompany me. She spent a week I presented to him Mr. Nun's letter of introduction, and in the country with her father and friends, by my particular mentioned that my wife had the honour of being related desire; and they did all they could to prevail upon her to to him. He perused Mr. Nun's letter very slowly. I was stay with them, promising to take the best possible care of determined not to leave him in any doubt respecting who her and her little boy during my absence ; but she steadily and what I was; and I briefly told him the particulars of persisted in her determination to accompany her husband. my history. He listened with immovable attention ; and I was not too late in going on ship-board this time; and, when I had finished he said, “ You have not yet told me during the whole voyage, I did not lose any of my goods; what your views are in coming to America." for, in the first place, I had very few goods to lose, and, in I replied, “ that my plans were not yet fixed." the next, my wife took entire charge of those few.

“But of course,” said he, “you cannot have left home And now behold me safely landed at Philadelphia, with without forming some plan for the future. May I ask one hundred pounds in my pocket-a small sum of money ; what line of life you mean to pursue :" but many, from yet more trifling beginnings, have grown I answered, “that I was undetermined, and meant to be rich in America. My wife's relation, Mr. Croft, had not guided by circumstances.” so much, as I was told, when he left England. Many “ Circumstances !" said he ; “May I request you to ex. passengers, who came over in the same ship with me had plain yourself more fully P for I do not precisely understand not half so much. Several of them were, indeed, wretch- to what circumstances you allude." edly poor.

I was provoked with the man for being so slow of appreAmong others, there was an Irishman, who was known hension ; but, when driven to the necessity of explaining, I by the name of Barny, contraction, I believe, for Bar- found that I myself did not understand what I meant. naby. As to his surname he could not undertake to spell I changed my ground ; and, lowering my tone of confiit; but he assured me there was no better. This man, dence, said that, as I was totally ignorant of the country,! with many of his relatives, had come to England, according should wish to be guided by the advice of better-informed to their custom, during harvest time, to assist in reaping, persons; and that I begged leave to address myself to him, because they gain higher wages than in their own country. as having had the most successful experience. Barny heard that he should get still higher wages for la After a considerable pause, he replied, it was a hazar. bour in America, and accordingly he, and his two sons, dous thing to give advice; but that, as my wife was his relads of eighteen and twenty, took their passage for Phila- lation, and he held it a duty to assist his relations, he delphia. A merrier mortal I never saw. We used to hear should not decline giving me—all the advice in his power. him upon deck, continually singing or whistling his Irish I bowed, and felt chilled all over by his manner. tunes; and I should never have guessed that this man's “And not only my advice," continued he; “but my life had been a series of hardships and misfortunes.

assistance-in reason. When we were leaving the ship I saw him, to my great I said, “ I was much obliged to him." surprise, crying bitterly; and, upon inquiring what was “ Not in the least, young man ; you are not in the least the matter, he answered that it was not for himself, but obliged to me yet, for I have done nothing for you.". for his sons, he was grieving, because they were to be made This was true, and not knowing what to say I was Redemption men. That is, they were to be bound to work, silent. during a certain time, for the captain, or for whomever he « And that which I may be able to do for you in future pleased, till the money due for their passage should be paid. must depend as much upon yourself as upon me. In the Though I was somewhat surprised at any one's thinking first place, before I can give you any advice, I must know of coming on board a vessel without having one farthing what you are worth in the world ?". in his pocket, yet I could not forbear paying the money My worth in money, I told him, with a forced smile, was for this poor fellow. He dropped down on the deck upon but very trifling indeed. With some hesitation I named both his knees as suddenly as if he had been shot, and, the sum. holding up his hands to Heaven, prayed, first in Irish, and “ And you have a wife and child to support!” said he, then in English, with fervent fluency, that “I and mine shaking his head. “And your child is too young and your might never want; that I might live long to reign over wife too delicate to work. They will be sad burdens upon him; that success might attend my honour wherever I your hands ; these are not the things for America. Why went; and that I might enjoy for evermore all sorts of did you bring them with you? But, as that is done, and blessings and crowns of glory.” As I had an English pre- cannot be mended,” continued he, “we must make the judice in favour of silent gratitude, I was rather disgusted best of it, and support them. You say you are ignorant of by all this eloquence; I turned away abruptly, and got the country. I must explain to you then how money is to into the boat which waited to carry me to shore.

be made here, and by whom. The class of labourers maku

money readily, if they are industrious ; because they have , maintained at their expense these secretaries. It is not high wages and constant employment; artificers and me necessary here to detail the history of the notaries in chanics, carpenters, shipwrights, wheelwrights, smiths, Europe, who succeeded the tabellions of Rome. The inbricklayers, masons, get rich here, without difficulty, from tention is only to throw some light on the origin of short. the same causes ; but all these things are out of the ques- hand-writing, and to prove the great estimation in which tion for you. You have head, not hands, I perceive. Now, the art was held by ancient statesmen and orators. mere head, in the line of bookmaking or bookselling, brings Next to the art of printing, short-hand writing claims in but poor profit in this country. The sale for imported the admiration of mankind ; it may be called the triumph books is extensive ; and our printers are doing something by of human intellect. The wisdom of the senate, the prin. subscription here, in Philadelphia, and in New York, they tell ciples of legislation, and the dicta of legal tribunals, are me. But London is the place for a good bookseller to thrive ; now diffused over the British islands with the rapidity of and you come from London, where you tell me you were a the eagle's wing. The learning, taste, and reasoning of the bankrupt. I would not advise you to have anything more most distinguished men, taken, as it were, from the lips to do with bookselling or bookmaking. Then, as to be- of the speakers, and conveyed daily and hourly by the press coming a planter-Our planters, if they are skilful and la- of Great Britain, must produce light and knowledge among borious, thrive well; but you have not capital sufficient to the people, which no other system of education can impart. clear land and build a house ; or hire servants to do the The advantages derived from short-hand writing are not work for which you are not suficiently robust. Besides, i only great in a public point of view, but privately the art do not imagine that you know much of agricultural con- is useful. The student who attends lectures may bring cerns, or country business ; and even to oversee and guide away the very words of the lecturer, and impress upon the others, experience is necessary. The life of a back settler I mind at leisure the correct ideas of a speaker, in a way do not advise, because you and your wife are not equal to it. that can never lead to error. The art, some years ago, was You are not accustomed to live in a log house, or to feed not applied to any useful purpose in England. The deupon racoons and squirrels; not to omit the constant dread, bates in the British Parliament were reported, but the if not imminent danger, of being burnt in your beds, or writers conveyed no valuable information to the public. walped by the Indians with whom you would be surrounded. The speeches reported were too often the mere composition Cpon the whole, I see no line of life that promises well for you of reporters, who wrote from memory. We have now, so lant that of a merchant; and I see no means of your getting far as the limits of newspapers will allow, the emphatie into this line, without property and without credit, except by words of the leaders in Parliament, upon all important ping into some established house as a clerk. You are a good subjects. It is true inaccuracy will sometimes occur, but ponman and a ready accountant, I think you tell me ; every one who has attended the House of Commons, and and I presume you have a sufficient knowledge of book the other branch of the legislature, must know that errors keeping. With sobriety, diligence, and honesty, you are occasioned by the want of proper facilities to report. may do well in this way; and may look forward to being The distance at which strangers or writers are placed from a partner, and in a lucrative situation some years hence the speakers in the House of Lords and House of ComThis is the way I managed and rose myself by degrees mons is too great. It is impossible to hear persons who to what you see. It is true, I was not at first encumbered speak in a low tone of voice, and it is almost unnecessary with a wife and young child. In due time I married my to observe that a reporter cannot report accurately that master's daughter, which was a great furtherance to me; which he does not distinctly hear, and clearly understand. but then, on the other hand, your wife is my relation ; and we are enabled to make what may be considered a bold to be married to the relation of a rich merchant is next assertion, but it is nevertheless true, namely, that a shortbest to not being married at all, in your situation. I told hand writer, placed in a situation where he can hear, may you I thought it my duty to proffer assistance as well as commit to paper, if necessary, every word uttered by a advice : so take up your abode with me for a fortnight : speaker. The skill evinced daily in the art of reporting, in that time I shall be able to judge whether you are capa must be considered one of the great foundations of public ble of being a clerk; and, if you and I should suit, we will liberty ; and every friend to the British Constitution should talk farther. You understand that I enter into no engage- stand forward the advocate of reporters, who have done ment, and make no promise; but shall be glad to lodge much within the last twenty years to promote the liberty of pon, and your wife, and little boy, for a fortnight: and it the subject, the blessings of the British Constitution, and will be your own fault, and must be your own loss, if the the morals of the people. visit turns ont waste of time. I cannot stay to talk to you

It would not be difficult to prove that the present sys. any longer at present,” added he, pulling out his watch, tem of reporting is advantageous to domestic peace, and the

for I have business, and business waits for no man. Go stability of Government. The people of England are the back to your inn for my relation, and her little one. We best subjects in the world, provided they find in their dine at two precisely."(To be concluded next week.) rulers due regard for the principles of that constitution

which their best blood has been so often and so nobly shed SHORT-HAND WRITING AND THE PRESS.

to defend. Expose fairly the sentiments of the representaTue Romans invented short or abridged writing, which tives in Parliament, who discuss the measures of Governenabled their secretaries to collect the speeches of orators, ment, and there will be no disposition to form plans of conhowerer rapidly delivered. The characters used by such spiracy, treason, and disaffection, which have generally been writers were called notes. They did not consist in letters the result of false or mistaken views of the measures of of the alphabet, but certain marks, one of which often ex. Governments. The public press is now a stream of light pressed a whole word, and frequently a phrase. The same and information, flowing through the United Kingdom, and description of writing is known at the present day by the should any Government be weak enough to arrest its proHords stenography, tachygraphy, and echography. From gress, the obstruction must produce consequences fatal init came the word notary, which was given to all who deed to public peace and tranquillity. Let the press be unprofessed the art of quick writing. The system of note shackled, and its licentiousness, which seems to be an insewriting was not suddenly brought to perfection—it only parable vice, stand restrained by wise legislative enactments. came into favour when the professors most accurately re- Experience has proved that no Government can expect to Forted an excellent speech which Cato pronounced in the prosper without a free press. The great Republic of VenSeriale

. The orators, the philosophers, the dignitaries, and ice, established upon a system of secrecy, fell a victim to that ! warly all the rich patricians, then took for secretaries note- very principle. The measures of its council, though intended

rriters, to whom they allowed handsome pay. It was to promote the public interest, were dark and mysterious. ul to take from their slaves all who had intellect to ac The people kept in ignorance, and naturally suspicious of Tuire a knowledge of that art. Gruterus has preserved, all rulers, engaged in plots against the State, and at last for our information, the notes of Tyro, the freed-man of the army itself, on which the Senate most relied for protecPieters. The republic and the Government of cities also I tion became the destroyer of the Republic. Had Venice


in the plenitude of her greatness, possessed a free press, and

The dear chit-chat's kept up; not the false policy of concealment, the government of that

While the lady from the tible, once powerful commercial state might have existed to this

Is calling while she's ableday. Events of more recent date have proved, that an at

“ Will you have another cup ?" tempt to keep down the spirit of the age by restraint upon Dear me, your no done, mem--you'll take another cup, mem-tate the Press must excite universal disgust, and kindle the out your spoon, men. Oh no, mem, I never take mair than yas cup fame of revolution; that fame which drove Charles X. upon ony occasion. Toots, sic nonsense. You may tools axa, but it3 from the throne of the Bourbons. Happily there is no ap

true sense, mem. And whan did you see Mrs Petitcraw, mem? 'Derd, prehension that the liberty of the press can be suppressed in mem, 1 hae nae seen her this lang time, and I'm no wanting to see het,

she's a body o that kind, she just gangs frae house tae house gatherin this country ; whilst short-hand writing gives to the repor- clashes, and gets her tea here and her tea there, and tells in your house ter the invaluable power of spreading truth and informa- what she hears in mine, and when she begins, she clarer claveta on tion over the land, the people may boast of advantages un- and on, and the c'aver just comes frae her as if it cam' aff a clev, and known to surrounding nations.

there's nae end o her. O you maun excuse her puir body, ye ken SCOTTISH TEA-PARTY,

she's lost a' her teeth, and her tongue wearies in her mouth wantin' company. 'Deed they may excuse her that wants her, for its no me.

Oh! ladies, did ye hear what's happened in Mr M Farlane's family! Now let's sing how Miss M.Wharty,

there's an awfu' circumstance happened in that family; Mr. and Mn. T'ither evening had a party,

M‘Farlane hae na spoken to yin anither for this fortnight, and I'll tell To have a cup of tea;

ye the reason o't. Mrs. M'Farlane, puir body, had lost ane o her And how she had collected

teeth, and she gaed awa' to the dentist to get a tooth put in, and the All the friends that she respected,

dentist showed her twa-three kinds o' them, and among the rest be All as meriy as merry could be.

showed her a Waterloo yin, and she thought she would bae a Waterloo Dimes and damsels carne in dozens,

yin, puir body. Weel the dentist puts in yin tae her, and the tenth With two-three country crusius,

running in her head a' day, and when she gangs tae her bed at víctit, Jo their lily-white so gay;

as she tells me, but I'm certain she must hae been dreamingJust to sit and chiiter.charter,

just about yin or twa o'clock o the morning, mem, just about O'er a cup of scalling water,

yin or twa o'clock in the morning, wben she looks out o liet In the fashion of the day.

Ved, theres a great lang sodger standing at the bed-side; and quota (Spoken in diferent f male voices.) Dear me, low hae ye been this

she, man, what are ye wanting ? she says. Quo' he, Mrs. MFarlane ang time, Mem? Pretty wec, I thank ye, mein. How hae ye been

that's my tooth that ye've got in your mouth. Your tooth!! quo' she,

the very teeth that I bought the day at the dentist's. It does na mal. yoursel'? O mem, mem, I've been verra ill wi' the rheumatisms, and

ter for that, quo be, I lost it at Waterloo. Ye lost it at Waterloo! sc though I was your tippet, I couldna be fu'er o' stitches than I ain; but whan did you see Mrs. Pinkerton, mem? O mem, I hae na seen her

nonsense. Weel, wi' that he comes foret to pit his finger into Nr.

M'Farlane's mouth cae tak the teeth out o' her mouth, and she gies : this lang time. Did ye no hear that Mrs. Pinkerton and I hae had a difference? No, mem, I did na hear. What was't about, mem? I snap and catched him by the finger, and he gied a great screich, and tell you what it was about, mem. I gaed o'er to ca' upon her sae day, took her a gowf i' the side o' the head, and that waukened ber, and and when I gaes in, ye sec, she's sitting feeding the parrot, and I says

when she waukens, what has she gotten but Mr. M'Farlane's finger

atween her teeth, and him roaring like to gae out o' his judgment!! tae her, Mrs. Pinkerton, bow d'ye do mem ? and she never let on she heard me ; and I saye again, Mrs. Pinkerton, how d'ye do, I says ? and

Now Mr. M'Farlane has been gaun about wi' his thumb in a clout, and wi' that she turns about and says, says she, Mrs. M‘Saunter, I'm really looking as surly as a bear, for he thinks Mrs. M‘Farlane had done it astonished you should come and ask me how I do, considering the man. out o'spite, because he wadna let her buy a sofa at a sale the other ner you've ridiculed me and my husband in public companies! Mrs day; noo its vera ill done o' Mr. MʻFarlane tae think ony thing o' Pinkerton, quo' I, what's that ye mean, mein and then she began and that kind, as if ony woman wad gang and bite her ain flesh au blower gied me a'the ill-mannered abuse you can possibly conceive. And I

if she kent o'r. just says to her, quo' I, that's no what I came to hear, and if that's the

So thus to sit and chitter-chatter, &c. way ye intend tae gae on, quo’I, I wish ye gude morning; so I comes awa'. Now I'll tell ye what a' this is about. Ye see, it was just about the

STANZAS TO A DAUGHTER. térm time, ye ken, they flitted aboon us, and i gaed up the term morn

BY DAVID VEDDER. ing tae see if they wanted a kettle boiled or ony thing o' that kind; and

When the lunar light is leaping when I gaes in, Mr. Pinkerton, he's sitting in the middle o' the floor,

On the streamlet and the lake ; And the barber's shaving him, and the barber had laid a' his face round

When the winds of Heaven are sleeping, wi'the white saip, and Mr. Pinkerton, ye ken, has a vera red nose, and the red nose sticking through the white saip, just put me in mind o' a

And the nightingale awake ; carrot sticking through a collyflower; and I very innocently happened

While mirrored in the ocean tae mention this in a party where I had been dining, and some offici.

The bright orbs of Heaven appear, our body's gane and tellit Mrs. Pinkerton, and Mrs. Pinkerton's tane

"Tis an hour for deep devotion this wonderfully amiss... What d'ye think o' Mrs. Pinks? Deed mem,

Lift thy soul to Heaven in prayer. she's no worth your while; but did you hear what happened to Mrs. Clapperton the ither day? No mem. You see, she was coming down

When the autumn breeze is sighing, Montrose-Street, and she had on a red pelisse, and a white muff, and

Through the leafless forest wide ; here's a bubbly-jock coming out o'the brewery, and whether the red

And the flowers are dead, or dying, pelisse had ta'en the beast 's eye or no, I dinna ken, but the bubbly-jock rins after Mrs. Clapperton, and Mrs. Clapperton ran puir body, and the

Once the sunny garden's pride ;bubbly-jock after her, and in crossing the causey, ye see, her fit slipped,

When the yellow leaves in motion, and the inuff flew frae her, and there's a cart gaes over the muff, and

Are seen whirling on the air, yae gentleman rins and lifts Mrs Clapperton, and a anither lifts the

'Tis an hour for deep devotionmuff, and when he looks intae the muff, what's there but a wee

Lift thy soul to Heaven in prayer. bit broken bottle, wi'a wee soup brandy in't; and the gentlemen fell a looking and laughiug tac ane anither, and they're gaun about tae their

On His power and greatness ponder, dinner parties and their supper parties, and telling about Mrs, Clapper.

When the torrent, and the gale, ton wi' the bubbly-jock and the bottle o' brandy. Now it's very ill

And the cataract, and thunder, done o' the gentlemen tae do any thing o' the kind, for Mrs. Clapperton was just like tae drap down wi' perfect vexation, for she's a body o'

In one fearful chorus swell : that kind o' Jaithfu kind o disposition, she would just as soon take

Amidst nature's wild emotion aquafortis as she would take brandy in ony clandestine kind o manner.

Is thy soul oppressed with care ?
Thus to sit and chitter-chatter,

"Tis the hour for deep devotion-
O'er a cup of scalding water,

Lift thy soul to Him in prayer.
Is the fashion of the day!
Each gemman at his post now,

In sorrow, and in sickness,
In banding tea or toast now,

And in poverty, and pain ;
Is striving to out-hine ;

And in vigour, or in weakness,
While keen to find a handle

On the mountain or the plaiu :
To tip a little scandal,

In the desert, on the ocean,-
The ladies all combine.

To the Throne of Love repair ;
of this one's dress or carriage..

All are hours for deep devotion-
Or t'other's death or marriige,

Lift thy soul to Heaven in prayer.

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