her charms, now demanded the president's attention, with an air which she thought dignified; she propounded her thoughts as follows: "My friends, while the blind, the deaf, the lame, and all the other dead-weights of the community have their respective hospitals and patrons, how comes it that the respectable fraternity of quidnuncs has been so long forgotten? Could we not raise an asylum to receive the unfortunates of our own genus? Assuredly we could, and might reward every notable deviation from ordinary life with becoming munificence. What collector of reptiles should then pine in a gaol? what maker of patent corkscrews feel the inconveniences of want?" As our female orator finished this sentence, the room door was flung open, and a lady, followed by the Secret Committee, rushed in, scolding most vehemently. "A plague on the selfadjusting garter and its inventor, the spring has penetrated to the boneoh! that I had been content with simple elastic ligatures, they kept up my hose well enough. Trifleton, Trifleton, thou hast undone me." Confusion grew apace the inventress of the fatal garter declared the accident was no fault of hers. Master Sangrado said, he hoped to heal the wound by the first intention; he would examine it carefully, he would use his utmost skill, he would not amputate if it could be avoided.-For my own part, recollecting that strangers were prohibited, I felt it expedient to retire, which I did, unobserved, from the Subtle Club. TO THE KALEIDOSCOPE. BEAUTIFUL toy! of all the arts That ever soul contrived for sense, They all smiled in each other's faces, A night dame with her sister band H. SUMMER EVENINGS. TO THE NYMPH OF THE FOUNTAIN OF TEARS. O Lacrymarum Fons! tenero sacros Pectore, te, Pia Nympha, sensit.-Gray. Fountain of Tears, whose source refined Arises from the feeling mind: Thrice happy, Nymph divine, is he, Whose inmost breast o'erflows with thee.-Anon. THE two following Poems, on this beautiful and engaging subject, may be styled TWINS. They were written by two gentlemen, residing in the same village; and both composed in a small temple, standing in a retired spot, called the HALL-GROVE. This temple, covered with jasmine, honeysuckles, and ivy, rose immediately over a square line of water surrounding an island, in which were planted a multitude of flowers and shrubs. Being the habitation of solitude, as it were, there was scarcely a British singing-bird that did not warble its strains among the branches of the trees, that rose along the footpaths leading to and from this temple; and thither did the two Poets, one seventytwo, and the other (then) twenty-three, frequently repair to dedicate to Apollo. + Sir GREY COOPER, Bart. was the former of these poets. He had been Secretary to the Admiralty during the whole period of Lord North's administration ;- -was Member of Parliament for the borough of Sandwich for more than fifteen years; and author of several political pamphlets; amongst which was one entitled" A Pair of Spectacles for a Short-sighted Politician." (By Sir Grey Cooper, Bart.) Hail, pious Nymph! whose guardian power Not tears that, on th' approach of death, Nor such as moisten the dark cells Where, whilst the slaves the rack prepare, The stern Inquisitor compels Even god-like virtue to despair. These bitter waters of distress Arise from other springs than thine, Springs, which infernal Gnomes possess, Dread ministers of wrath divine! Heaven gives to thee the sacred part Of watching the pure streams that flow From the soft motions of the heart, That learns to feel another's woe; To raise the head by care depress'd, Thy sylphs, the messengers of grace, The sorrows of the human race. To thee belong the gushing rills Of sudden joy, and glad surprise, Oft let me leave the busy scene, Devotion at thy shrine to pay; The power divine of doing good, View the mild glory round the throne, To cheer me in the vale of years, Still, pensive Nymph! thy grace impart, For with those social feelings flow The best affections of the mind, The warmth of friendship, and the glow The succeeding poem, on the same subject, was written by the Author of the "Beauties, Harmonies, and Sublimities of Nature;" and composed in consequence of his having been presented with a copy of the preceding one, by its elegant and accomplished Author. NYMPH OF THE SILENT TEAR! From the soft fountain flow those showers, When despots yield their giant powers Against the sons of liberty. When a noble patriot falls, When a sacred poet dies, Thine is the influence that enthralls Our best and holiest sympathies. When listening with enchanted ear, The sorrows of the nightingale : Has some fair LAURA's loss to mourn; Ah! who, with reasoning, would control Those tears that bathe her funeral urn? Those tears are thine, which gem the eye, And all her fears and anguish smother; First, when an infant's feeble cry Proclaims the lovely fair" A MOTHER," And when that infant,-grown a man, O'er seas, beset with wild alarms, (Contracting space into a span,) Shall spring into that mother's arms;— Who, that e'er felt as MOTHERS feel, To check the rapturous throbs and tears, Which quicken into instant life, When that delighted son appears. When TASSO's fate, when DANTE's page Too truly mark where misery dwells; ; When SIRACH's, or ISAIAH's page Tune their best and favourite string And justify the ways of heaven The plan of Providence appears! And when from towering cliffs we view, Astonish'd, charm'd, and rapt, the MIND To heaven's high THRONE it glorying flies. Passing through the village, in which these poems were written, two or three years since, a very remarkable circumstance was related to me. In the family of the EX-SECRETARY, lived a female servant, who, having fallen in love with the footman, was observed to be, all of a sudden, remarkably low and melancholy. At length, one evening, a fellow-servant going into the kitchen, beheld, to her inexpressible horror, the leg of a child protruding through the bars of the grate !— An alarm was instantly given. But the mother, who had thus burnt her own child, seized her hat, ran down the path that led to the turnpike-road, unperceived; and a coach passing at the moment, she placed herself in the inside; was wafted to London; and, in the course of a few days, received into the family of the Bishop of Durham; she having been many years known to his lordship's housekeeper, who was, of course, entirely ignorant of the above transaction. In this place she lived only eight or ten days; being apprehensive of a discovery, she quitted the Bishop's service, therefore, and obtained a cook-maid's place in the kitchen of a respectable tradesman in the Strand. The mistress of the house died not long after; when she was promoted to the rank of housekeeper. There she conducted herself so well, that her master began to feel an interest in her conduct. He soon married her; and, at his death, left her an annuity of eight hundred pounds a year! As Cato was accustomed to say," who would believe there were gods!" Near this village lived Sir THOMAS HANMER, Editor of Shakspeare, and Speaker of the House of Commons, during the reign of Queen Anne. A curious anecdote of this celebrated character is traditionary here. The ministry of that day entertained an idea of laying a tax upon wheat. To this measure, Sir Thomas was decidedly hostile; and being admitted to an audience, the Queen inquired, with no small degree of solicitude, why he had determined upon going into the country so early.-"That I may prepare my lands, and please your Majesty, for the cultivation of hemp." "With hemp, Sir Thomas? -and why with hemp ?"-" Because, and please your Majesty, I am told, your Royal Majesty's Ministers are about to tax your people the very bread they eat. A man can die but once, and please your Majesty ; and I think we had far better hang them than starve them." "I think so, too," replied her Majesty, "and I will consult with my ministers, and see that my people shall not be starved. I thank thee, Sir Thomas." The measure was, in consequence, immediately dropt, and never afterwards resumed. EPIGRAM. "DON'T you think there would be much more of bloodshed than now, If the women, like men, their own wars might be waging?" Quoth cynical Dick.-Said his friend, I allow That they might, for I'm sure they'd be always ENGAGING,” |