clothing; powerful steam-engines are spinning and weaving for me, and making cutlery for me, and pumping the mines, that minerals useful to me may be procured. 2. My patrimony was small, yet I have locomotive engines running, day and night, on all the railroads, to carry my correspondence. I have canals to bring the coal for my winter fire. Then I have telegraphic lines, which tell me what has happened a thousand miles off, the same day of its occurrence; which flash a message for me in a minute to the bedside of a sick relative hundreds of miles distant; and I have editors and printers who daily send me an account of what is going on throughout the world, amongst all these people who serve me. By the daguer reotype I procure in a few seconds a perfect likeness of myself or friend, drawn without human touch, by the simple agency of light. 3. And then, in a corner of my house, I have books! the miracle of all my possessions, more wonderful than the wishingcap of the Arabian Tales; for they transport me instantly not only to all places, but to all times. By my books I can con'jurc up before me, to vivid existence, all the great and good men of old; and, for my own private satisfaction, I can make them act over again the most renowned of all their exploits. In a word, from the equator to the pole, and from the beginning of time until now, by my books I can be where I please. 4. This picture is not overcharged, and might be much extended; such being the miracle of God's goodness and providence, that each individual of the civilized millions that cover the earth may have nearly the same enjoyments as if he were the single lord of all! CXXXIX. STRONG DRINK MAKETH MEN FOOLS. 1. This gentleman and I Passed but just now by your next neighbor's house, That their unsteadfast footing did proceed 2 This conceived, Each one begins to apprehend the danger, As to the sea, what next comes to their hand Stools, tables, tressels, trenchers, bedsteads, cups, 3. Here a fellow whistles They take him for the boatswain ; one lies struggling A third takes the bass-viol for a cock-boat, His oar, the stick with which the fiddler played; Still fumbling on a gittern. The rude multitude, Cast from the windows, went by the ears about it. 4. The constable is called to atone the broil; Which done, he, hearing such a noise within Of imminent shipwreck, enters the house, and finds them And think it Neptune's trident; and that he T. HEYWOOD. CXL. THE LUTIST AND THE NIGHTINGALE.* 1 PASSING from Italy to Greece, the tales Which poets of an elder time have feigned Desire of visiting this Paradise. To Thessaly I came, and living private, Without acquaintance of more sweet companions There are well-authenticated instances of singing-birds that have Kropped down dead in the apparent effort to emulate the music produced rom some instrument. Than the old inmates to my love, my thoughts, 2. A sound of music touched mine ears, or rather, Indeed, entranced my soul: as I stole ncarer, Invited by the melody, I saw ΕΙ This youth, this fair-faced youth, upon his lūte, 3. A nightingale, Nature's best-skilled musician, undertakes The challenge; and for every several strain The well-shaped youth could touch, she sang him down. The nightingale, did with her various notes 4. Some time thus spent, the young man grew at last Whom art had never taught cliffs, moods, or notes. Had busied many hours to perfect practice. To end the controversy, in a rapture Upon his instrument he plays so swiftly, So many voluntaries, and so quick, That there was curiosity in cunning, Concord in discord, lines of differing method Meeting in one full centre of delight. 5. The bird (ordained to be Music's true martyr) strove to imitate These several sounds; which, when her warbling throat Failed in, for grief down dropt she on his lute, And brake her heart. It was the quaintest sadness To see the conquerors upon her hearse To weep a funeral elegy of tears. 6. He looked upon the trophies of his art, Then sighed, then wiped his eyes; then sighed and cried, "Alas! poor creature, I will soon revenge This cruelty upon the author of it. Henceforth this lute, guilty of innocent blood, WE wait for thy coming, sweet wind of the south, The stone from the mouth of the sepulchre rolled, 2. THE BLUE-BIRD'S SONG. A. B. Street. Hark, that sweet carol! With delight And Nature, in her brightening looks, 3. THE DELIGHTS OF SPRING. - Mary Howitt. The Spring, she is a blessed thing, She is the mother of the flowers; She is the mate of birds and bees, The partner of their revelries, Our star of hope through wintry hours, The little brooks run on in light, As if they had a chase of mirth; The skies are blue, the air is balm; 4. THE FIRST WARM DAY OF SPRING. Horace Smith. --- The perfume and the bloom that shall decorate the flower How awful is the thought of the wonders under ground, 5. A WELCOME TO SPRING.-Wm. G. Simms. O! thou bright and beautiful day, First bright day of the virgin Spring, They bound with a feeling long suppressed, And sweets thou breathest with every breath. 6. THE BIRDS OF SPRING. Sing on by fane and forest old, by tombs and cottage eaves, 7. DIVINE BOUNTY MANIFEST IN SPRING.- Thomson. What is this mighty breath, ye sages, say, That, in a powerful language, felt, not heard, Instructs the fowls of heaven; and through their breast |