And while his distant fancy strays
Remote through Algebraic maze,
He sees, in whatsoe'er he views,
The very object he pursues,
And fairest forms, from heel to head,
Seem crooked as his x and z.
Peace to the man of marble !

Hush !
Whence is the universal rush ?
Why doth confusion thus affright
The peaceful order of the night,
Thwart the musicians in their task,
And check the schoolboy's pas de basque ?
The Lady Clare hath lost a comb !-
If old Queen Bess from out her tomb
Had burst, with royal indignation,
Upon our scandalous flirtation,
Darted a glance immensely chilling
Upon our waltzing and quadrilling;
Flown at the fiddlers in a pet,
And hade them play her minuet ;
Her stately step, and angry eye,
Her waist so low, her neck so high,
Her habit of inspiring fear,
Her knack of boxing on the ear,
Could ne'er have made the people stare,
Like the lost comb of Lady Clare !
The tresses it was wont to bind
Joy in their freedom ! unconfined
They float around her, and bedeck
The marble whiteness of her neck,
With veil of more resplendent hue,
Than ever Aphrodite threw
Around her, when unseen she trod
Before the sight of man or God-
Look how a blush of burning red,
O'er bosom and o'er forehead spread,
Glances like lightning; and aside
The Lady Clare hath turn'd her head,

1

As if she strove in vain to hide
That countenance of modest pride,
Whose colour many an envying fair
Would give a Monarch's crown to wear.
Persuasion lurks on woman's tongue-
In woman's smile, oh! raptures throng-
And woman's tears compassion move-
But oh! 't is woman's blush we love !

Now gallantry is busy round! All

eyes are bent upon the ground; And dancers leave the cheerful measure To seek the lady's missing treasure. Meanwhile some charitable Miss, Quite ignorant what envy is, Sends slowly forth her censures grave, “ How oddly beauties will behave! Oh! quite an accident !-last year I think she sprain'd her ancle here; And then there were such sudden halts, And such a bringing out of salts”— “ You think her vain ?" “ Oh gracious ? no! She has a charming foot, you know; And it's so pretty to be lame-I don't impute the slightest blameOnly that very careless braid ! The fault is with the waiting-maid! I merely mean-since Lady Clare Was flatter'd so about her hair, Her comb is always dropping outOh! quite an accident !-no doubt!"

The Sun hath risen o'er the deep,
And fathers, more than half-asleep,
Begin to shake the drowsy head,
And hint "it's time to be in bed.”
Then comes chagrin on faces fair ;
Soft hands are clasp'd in mimic prayer ;

And then the warning watch is shown,
And answers in a harsher tone
Reply to look of lamentation,
And argument, and supplication :
In vain sweet voices tell their grief,
In speeches long, for respite brief;
Bootless are all their “ lords !” and “las !"
Their “pray papas !" and“ do papas !"
“ Ladies," quoth Gout, “ I love my rest !
The carriage waits !-eundum est."
This is the hour for parting bow,
This is the hour for secret vow,
For weighty shawl, and hooded cloak,
Half-utter'd tale, and whisper'd joke.
This is the hour when ladies bright
Relate th' adventures of the night,
And fly by turns from truth to fiction,
From retrospection to prediction :
They regulate, with unbought bounty,
The destinies of half the county,
With gipsey talent they foreteli
How Miss Duquesne will marry well,
And how 't is certain that the squire
Will be more stupid than his sire,
And how the girl they cried up so
Only two little months ago,
Falls off already, and will be
Really quite plain at twenty-three.
Now scandal hovers laughing o'er them,
While

Refusals-Lord knows when refused,
Deductions- Lord knows how deduced ;
Alas! how sweetly scandal falls
From lips of beauties-after Balls.

The music stops,—the lights expire,
The dance is o'er—the crowds retire ;
And all those smiling cheeks have flown !
Away !--the rhymer is alone.
Thou too, the fairest and the best,
Hast fleeted from him with the rest ;
Thy name he will not, love! unite
To the rude strain he pours to-night,
Yet often hath he turn'd

away
Amidst his harsh and wandering lay,
And often hath his earnest eye
Look'd into thine delightedly,
And often hath his listening ear-
But thou art gone!--what doth be here?

A PARTY AT THE PELICAN.

DEAR COURTENAY,-On a bitter snowy day I have resolved to take our Poet Laureat's advice to write like a devil," and have positively sat down, with the most laudable diligence and solicitude for your amusement, to send you an account of a most delightful party at which I was present the other day; and, if the description pleases you one quarter as much as the more substantial original pleased me, you may be assured that I shall be very well satisfied.

To begin à principiis, as Allen Le Blanc would say ; -a single gentleman who had resided some time in the neighbourhood, and had accepted every body's invitation without giving any himself, 'luckily for me, just before my arrival, was seized with a sudden and miraculous impulse of hospitality, and determined, out of a proper regard both to economy and good fellowship, to pay

all his debts at once, in a general and grand entertainment. The good people here made many very charitable conjectures upon this extraordinary spirit which animated Mr. Hudson. However, as the slander of the place ought not to be circulated too widely, I will only tell you the most unexceptionable of them, that Christmas had its wonted and proper effect in opening his purse-strings. You see this only hints at some supernatural agency, as being necessary for such an important circumstance. To speak to you as a learned man, “ Dignus vindice nodus." Well ! to proceed regularly in these important matters, the above-mentioned gentleman, after he had resolved to feast his friends upon this extended scale, next began to consider where the collected company could possibly be received, and upon examination discovered that he had no room in his house large enough to hold them. In this terrible emergency he called his housekeeper to his assistance, and, after much consideration, they agreed upon a contrivance; namely, that he should hire the three best rooms in the Pelican, and send out his cards accordingly. This plan she alleged would give great consequence and notoriety to the party; and he acquiesced in it from other and more feeling motives, that he could probably supply a great part of the necessaries from home, and, by contracting with Monsieur the Innkeeper, save a considerable loss to his pocket, and a proportionable bustle and confusion to his household; nor did he forget that by these means he could avoid betraying the imperfections or deficiencies of his establishment.

These preliminaries, I assure you, are all authentic; having been partly collected from Mrs. Whitehurst, the old dame who manages every thing, and partly from himself, for he is very communicative in these respects;