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ried round the world for twenty years The Booths ! yet live they?' pausing and op longer; and is at last moved by an irre

press'd: sistible impulse, when old and shattered and Then spake again :- Is there no ancient man,

David his name ?-assist me, if you can.lonely, to seek his native town, and the Flemings there were!—and Judith! doth she live? scene of his youthful vows. He comes and The woman gaz'd, nor could an answer give; finds his Judith like himself in a state of | Yet wond'ring stood, and all were silent by, widowhood, but still brooding, like himself, Feeling a strange and solemn sympathy. over the memory of their early love. She

PP 31, 32. had waited twelve anxious years without The meeting of the lovers is briefly told. tidings of him, and then married : and now when all passion, and fuel for passion, is " But now a Widow, in a village near, extinguished within them, the memory of Chanc'd of the melancholy man io hear : their young attachment endears them to each Old as she was, to Judith's bosomi came

Some strong emotions at the well-known name; other, and they still cling together in sad and He was her much-lov'd Allen! she had stay'd subdued affection, to the exclusion of all the Ten troubled years, a sad afflicted maid," &c. rest of the world. The history of the growth " The once-fond Lovers met: Nor grief nor age. and maturity of their innocent love is beauti- Sickness or pain, their hearts could disengage: fully given : but we pass on to the scene of Each had immediate confidence ; a friend their parting

Both now beheld, on whom they might depend : · Now is there one to whom I can express

My nature's weakness, and my soul's distress.'" "All things prepar'd, on the expected day Was seen the vessel anchor'd in the bay.

There is something sweet and touching, From her would seamen in the evening come, and in a higher vein of poetry, in the story To take th' advent'rous Allen from his home ;

which he tells to Judith of all his adventures, With his own friends the final day he pass'd, And every painful hour, except the last.

and of those other ties, of which it still wrings The grieving Father urg'd the cheerful glass, her bosom to hear him speak.-We can afford To make the moments with less sorrow pass;

but one little extract. Intent the Mother look'd upon her son, And wish'd th'assent withdrawn, the deed undone;

There, hopeless ever to escape the land, The younger Sister, as he took his way,

He to a Spanish maiden gave his hand ; Hung on his coat, and begg'd for more delay ;

In cottage shelter'd from the blaze of day, But his own Judith call'd him to the shore,

He saw his happy infants round him play; Whom he must meet-for they might meet no

Where summer shadows, made by lofiy trees, more!

Way'd o'er his seat, and sooth'd his reveries; And there he found her-faithful, mournful, true,

E'en then he thought of England, nor could sigh, Weeping and waiting for a last adieu !

But his fond Isabel demanded • Why?' The ebbing tide had left the sand, and there Griev'd by the story, she the sigh repaid, Mov'd with slow steps the melancholy pair:

And wepi in piry for the English Maid." Sweet were the painful moments—but how sweet,

pp. 35, 36, And without pain, when they again should meet!''

The close is extremely beautiful, and leaves

upon the mind just that impression of sadness The sad and long-delayed return of this which is both salutary and delightful, because ardent adventurer is described in a tone of it is akin to pity, and mingled with admiragenuine pathos, and in some places with such tion and esteem. truth and force of colouring, as to outdo the efforts of the first dramatic representation.

"Thus silent, musing through the day, he sees His children sporting by those lofiy trees,

Their mother singing in the shady scene, “But when return'd the Youth ?—she Youth no Where the fresh springs burst o'er the lively green; Return'd exulting to his native shore ! (more So strong his eager fancy, he affrights But forty years were past; and then there came The faithful widow by its pow'rful flights ; A worn-out man, wth wither'd limbs and lame ! For what disturbs him he aloud will tell, Yes! old and griev'd, and trembling with decay, And cry~"'lis she, my wife! my Isabel !'Was Allen landing in his native bay:

• Where are my children ?--Judith grieves to hear In an autumnal eve he left the beach,

How the soul works in sorrows so severe ; In such an eve he chanc'd the port to reach : Watch'd by her care, in sleep, his spirit takes He was alone; he press'd the very place

Iis flight, and watchful finds her when he wakes. of the sad parting, of the last embrace :

" 'Tis now her office; her attention see! There stood his parents, there retir'd the Maid, While her friend sleeps beneath that shading tree. So fond, so tender, and so much afraid ;

Careful, she guards him from the glowing heat, And on that spot, through many a year, his mind And pensive muses at her Allen's feet. (scenes Turn'd mournful back, half sinking, half resign'd. “ And where is he? Ah! doubtless in those

'No one was present; of its crew bereft, Of his best days, amid the vivid greens, A single boat was in the billows left ;

Fresh with unnumber'd rills, where ev'ry gale Sent from some anchor'd vessel in the bay, Breathes the rich fragrance of the neighb'ring vale; At the returning tide to sail away:

Smiles not his wife?-and listens as there comes O'er the black stern the moonlight softly play'd, The night-bird's music from the thick'ning glooms? The loosen'd foresail flapping in the shade

And as he sits with all these treasures nigh, All silent else on shore; but from the town Gleams not with fairy-light the phosphor fly: A drowsy peal of distani bells came down : When like a sparkling gem it wheels'illumin'd by! From the call houses, here and there, a light This is the joy that now so plainly speaks Serv'd some confus'd remembrance to excite: In the warm iransient flushing of his cheeks ; “There,' he observ'd, and new emotions felt, For he is list'ning to the fancied noise Was my first home and yonderJudith dwelt,'&c. of his own children, eager in their joys! A swarthy matron he beheld, and thought

All this he feels ; a dream's delusive bliss She might unfold i be very truths he sought; Gives the expression, and the glow like this. Confus'd and trembling, he the dame address'd: And now his Judith lays her knitting by,

p. 29.

[face;

'T'hese strong emotions in her friend to spy ;

" Here Dinah sigh'd as if afraid to speakFor she can fully of their nature deem

And then repeated — They were frail and weak : But see! he breaks the long protracted theme, His soul she lov’d; and hop'd he had the grace And wakes and cries— My God! 'twas but a To fix his thoughis upon a better place.' dream !'"-pp. 39, 40.

pp. 72, 73. The third tale is "The Gentleman Farmer,"? Nothing can be more forcible or true to na. and is of a coarser texture than that we have ture, than the description of the effect of this just been considering—though full of acute cold-blooded cant on the warm and unsuspeci. observation, and graphic delineation of ordi- ing nature of her disappointed suitor. nary characters.

The hero is not a farmer turned gentleman, but a gentleman turned

"She ceased :-With steady glance, as if to see farmer-a conceited, active, talking, domi- | The very root of this hypocrisy, --. neering sort of person—who plants and eats And bronz'd broad hand ; then told her his regard,

He her small fingers moulded in his hard and drinks with great vigour-keeps a mis- His best respect were gone, but Love had still tress, and speaks with audacious scorn of the Hold in his heart, and govern'd yet the will-tyranny of wives, and the impositions of or he would curse her!-Saying this, he threw priests, lawyers, and physicians. Being but The hand in scorn away, and bade adieu à shallow fellow however at bottom, his con

To every ling'ring hope, with every care in view, fidence in his opinions declines gradually as to some in power his troubles he confess'd,

* In health declining as in mind distress'd, his health decays; and, being seized with And shares a parish-gift. At prayers he sees some maladies in his stomach, he ends with The pious Dinah dropp'd upon her knees; marrying his mistress, and submitting to be Thence as she walks the street with stately air, triply governed by three of her confederates; When he, with thick set coat of Badge-man's blue,

As chance directs, oft meet the parted pair! in the respective characters of a quack doctor, Moves near her shaded silk of changeful hue ; a methodist preacher, and a projecting land When his thin locks of grey approach her braid steward. We cannot afford any extracts from (A costly purchase made in beauty's aid); this performance.

When his frank air, and his unstudied pace, The next, which is called “Procrastina- Are seen with her soft manner, air, and grace, tion,” has something of the character of the And his plain artless look with her sharp meaning “Parting Hour;'' but more painful, and less How these together could have talk'd of love!"

It might some wonder in a stranger move, refined. It is founded like it on the story of

pp. 73, 74. a betrothed youth and maiden, whose marriage is prevented by their poverty; and this

" The Patron,” which is next in order, is youth, too, goes to pursue his fortune at sea;

also very good; and contains specimens of while the damsel awaits his return, with an very various excellence The story is that old female relation at home. He is crossed of a young man of humble birth, who shows with many disasters, and is not heard of for an early genius for poetry; and having been, many years. In the mean time, the virgin with some inconvenience to his parents, progradually imbibes her aunt's paltry love for vided with a frugal, but regular education, is wealth and finery; and when she comes, after at last taken notice of by a nobleman in the long sordid expectation, to inherit her hoards, neighbourhood, who promises to promote him feels that those new tastes have supplanted in the church, and invites him to pass an auevery warmer emotion in her bosom; and, tumn with him at his seat in the country. secretly hoping never more to see her youth- Here the youth, in spite of the admirable adful lover, gives herself up to comfortable

gos

monitions of his father, is gradually overcome siping and formal ostentatious devotion. At by a taste for elegant enjoyments, and allow's last

, when she is set in her fine parlour, with himself to fall in love with the enchanting her china and toys, and prayer-books around sister of his protector. When the family her, the impatient man bursts into her

leave him with indifference to return to town,

presence, and reclaims her vows! She answers he feels the first pang of humiliation and discoldly, that she has now done with the world, appointment; and afterwards, when he finds and only studies how to prepare to die! and that all his noble friend's fine promises end exhorts him to betake himself to the same in obtaining for him a poor drudging place in needful meditations. We shall give the con- the Customs, he pines and pines till he falls clusion of the scene in the author's own words. into insanity; and recovers, only to die preThe faithful and indignant lover replies:

maturely in the arms of his disappointed pa

rents. We cannot make room for the history “ Heav'n's spouse thou art not: nor can I believe

of the Poet's progress—the father's warnings That God accepts her, who will Man deceive:

-or the blandishments of the careless syren True I am shaiter'd, I have service seen, And service done, and have in trouble been;

by whom he was enchanted—though all are My cheek (it shames me not) has lost its red,

excellent. We give however the scene of the And the brown buff is o'er my features spread; breaking up of that enchantment;--a descripPerchance my speech is rude; for I among tion which cannot fail to strike, if it had no Th' untam'd have been, in temper and in tongue; other merit, from its mere truth and accuracy. But speak my fate! For these my sorrows past, Time lost, youth fled, hope wearied, and at last “Cold grew the foggy morn; the day was brief; This doubt of thee--a childish thing to tell, Loose on the cherry hung the crimson leaf; But certain truth-my very throat they swell; The dew dwelt ever on the herb; the woods They stop the breath, and but for shame could I Roar'd with strong blasts, with mighty showers Give way to weakness, and with passion cry;

the floods; These are unmanly struggles, but I feel

All green was vanish'd, save of pine and yew, This hour must end them, and perhaps will heal."- Thai still display'd their melancholy hue;

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Save the green holly with its berries red,

« The Lover's Journey” is a pretty fancy, And the green moss that o'er the gravel spread. and

very well executed-at least as to the “ To public views my Lord must soon allend ; And soon the Ladies-would they leave their friend? ride to see his mistress; and passing, in full

descriptions it contains. A lover takes a long The time was fix'd-approach'd-was near-was come!

hope and joy, through a barren and fenny The trying iime that fill'd his soul with gloom; country, finds beauty in every thing. Being Thoughtful our Poet in the morning rose, put out of humour, however, by missing the And cried, “ One hour my fortune will disclose.'

lady at the end of this stage, he proceeds “ The morning meal was past; and all around The mansion rang with each discordant sound;

through a lovely landscape, and finds every Haste was in every foot, and every look

thing ugly and disagreeable. At last he meets The trav’llers' joy for London-journey spoke :

his fair one-is reconciled_and returns along Not so our Youth ; whose feelings at the noise with her; when the landscape presents neither Of preparation had no touch of joys;

beauty nor deformity; and excites no emotion He pensive stood, and saw each carriage drawn, whatever in a mind engrossed with more With lackies mounted, ready on the lawn: The Ladies came ; and John in terror ihrew

lively sensations. There is nothing in this One painful glance, and then his eyes withdrew; volume, or perhaps in any part of Mr. Crabbe's Not with such speed, but he in other eyes writings, more exquisite than some of the deWiih anguish read—' I pity, but despise

scriptions in this story. The following, though Unhappy boy! presumpiuous scribbler!-you,

by no means the best, is too characteristic of To dream such dreams-be sober, and adieu !'"

the author to be omitted :

pp. 93, 94, « The Frank Courtship,” which is the next Orlando rode, and joy began to boast.

“ First o'er a barren heath beside the coast

(bloom, in order, is rather in the merry vein; and con- "*This neat low gorse,' said he, with golden tains even less than Mr. Crabbe's usual mod. Delights each sense, is beauty, is perfume ; erate allowance of incident. The whole of And this gay ling, with all its purple flowers, the story is, that the daughter of a rigid A man ai leisure might admire for hours ; Quaker, having been educated from home, That yields to nothing but my Laura's lip;

This green-fring'd cup-moss has a scarlet tip, conceives a slight prejudice against the un. And then how fine this herbage! men may say gallant manners of ihe sect, and is prepared A heath is barren; nothing is so gay.' to be very contemptuous and uncomplying “Onward he went, and fiercer grew the heat, when her father proposes a sober youth of the Dust rose in clouds beneath the horse's feet ; persuasion for a husband;—but is so much For now he pass'd through lanes of burning sand, struck with the beauty of his person, and the Bounds to thin crops yet uncultur'd land; cheerful reasonableness of his deportment at And sterile soil, and mock'd the thin-set rye.

Where the dark poppy flourish'd on the dry their first interview, that she instantly yields “ The Lover rode as hasty lovers ride, her consent. There is an excellent descrip. And reach'd a common pasture wild and wide; tion of the father and the unbending elders of Small black-legg'd sheep devour with hunger keen his tribe; and some fine traits of natural co- The meager herbage; fleshless, lank and lean:

He saw some scaller d hovels ; turf was pil'd quetry. " The Widow's Tale” is also rather of the A mill, indeed, was in the cenire found,

In square brown stacks; a prospect bleak and wild ! facetious order. It contains the history of a With short sear herbage withering all around; farmer's daughter, who comes home from her A smith's black shed oppos'd a wrighi's long shop, boarding-school a great deal too fine to tolerate And join'd an inn where humble travellers stop.' the gross habits, or submit to the filthy drudgery of her father's house; but is induced, by The features of the fine country are less the warning history and sensible exhortations perfectly drawn : But what, indeed, could be of a neighbouring widow, in whom she ex- made of the vulgar fine country of Englan ? pected to find a sentimental companion, to If Mr. Crabbe had had the good fortune to reconcile herself to all those abominations, live among our Highland hills, and lakes, and and marry a jolly young farmer in the neigh- upland woods-our living floods sweeping bourhood? The account of her horrors, on through forests of pine-our lonely vales and first coming down, is in Mr. Crabbe's best rough copse-covered cliffs; what a delicious style of Dutch painting--a little coarse, and picture would his unrivalled powers have enaneedlessly minute—but perfectly true, and bled him to give to the world :—But we have marvellously coloured.

no right to complain, while we have such pic. “ Us'd to spare meals, dispos’d in manner pure,

tures as this of a group of Gipsies. It is evi-
Her father's kitchen she could ill endure; dently finished con amore ; and does appear to
Where by the steaming beef he hungry sat, us to be absolutely perfect, both in its moral
And laid at once a pound upon his plaie; and its physical expression.
Hot from the field, her eager brothers seiz.'d
An equal pari, and hunger's rage appeas'd ;- Again the country was enclos'd; a wide
When one huge wooden bowl before them stood, And sandy road has banks on either side ;
Fill'd with huge balls of farinaceous food;

Where, lo! a hollow on the left appear'd,
With bacon, mass saline, where never lean And ihere a Gipsy-tribe ibeir lent had rear'd:
Beneath the brown and bristly rind was seen; 'Twas open spread, to catch the morning sun,
When from a single horn the party drew

And they had now their early meal begun,
Their copious draughts of heavy ale and new ; When two brown Boys just left their grassy seat,
She could not breathe ; but, with a heavy sigh, The early Trav’ller with their pray’rs to greet:
Rein'd the fair neck, and shut the offended eye; While yet Orlando held his pence in hand,
She minc'd the sanguine flesh in frustums fine, He saw their sister on her duty stand;
And wonder'd much to see the creatures dine.' Some twelve years old, demure, affected, sly,

pp. 128, 129.

Prepar'd the force of early powers to try :

pp. 176, 177.

Sudden a look of languor he descries,

Then as the Friend repos'd, the younger Pair And well-feign'd apprehension in her eyes ; Sat down to cards, and play'd beside his chair ; Train'd, but yet savage, in her speaking face, Till he awaking, to his books applied, He mark'd the features of her vagrant race; Or heard the music of th' obedient bride: When a light laugh and roguish leer express'd If mild th' evening, in the fields they stray'd, The vice implanted in her youthful breast ! And their own flock with partial eye survey'd ; Within, the Father, who from fences nigh

But of the Husband, to indulgence prone, Had brought the fuel for the fire's supply, [by: Resum'd his book, and bade ihem walk alone. Watch'd now the feeble blaze, and stood dejected “ This was obey'd; and oft when this was done On ragged rug, just borrow'd from the bed, They calmly gaz'd on the declining sun; And by the hand of coarse indulgence fed, In silence saw the glowing landscape fade, In dirty patchwork negligently dress'd,

Or, sitting, sang beneath the arbour's shade : Reclin'dihe Wife, an infant at her breast;

Till rose ihe moon, and on each youthful face, In her wild face some touch of grace remain'd, Shed a soft beauty, and a dangerous grace." Of vigour palsied and of beauty stain'd;

pp. 198, 199. Her blood-shot eyes on her unheeding mate (state, Were wrathful turn'd, and seem'd

her wants to with its agonising gleams of transitory recol.

The ultimate downfall of this lofty mind, Cursing his tardy aid-her Mother there With Gipsy-state engross'd the only chair; lection, form a picture, than which we do not Solemn and dull her look: with such she stands, know is the whole range of our poetry, rich as And reads the Milk.maid's fortune, in her hands, it is in representations of disordered intellect, 'I'racing the lines of life ; assum'd through years, Each feature now the steady falsehood wears;

furnishes any thing more touching, or delinWith hard and savage eye she views the food,

eated with more truth and delicacy. And grudging pinches their intruding brood ! “Harmless at length th' unhappy man was found, Last in the group, the worn-out Grandsire sits

The spirit setiled, but the reason drown'd; Neglected, lost, and living but by fis;

And all the dreadful tempest died away, Useless, despis'd, his worthless labours done,

To the dull stillness of the misty day! And half protected by the vicious Son,

“And now his freedom he atiain'd-if free Who half supports him! He with heavy glance,

The lost to reason, truth and hope, can be;
Views the young ruffians who around him dance;
And, by the sadness in his face, appears

The playful children of the place he meets;

Playful with them he ranıbles through the streets ;
To trace the progress of their future years;
Through what strange course of misery, vice, deceit, And his lost mind to these approving friends.

In all they need, his stronger arm he lends,
Must wildly wander each unpractis'd cheat;
What shame and grief, what punishment and pain, Is now with mild religious pity mov'd;

“ That gentle Maid, whom once the Youth had

(lov'd, Sport of fierce passions, musi each child sustain

Kindly she chides his boyish flights, while he Ere they like him approach their latter end,

Will for a moment fix'd and pensive be; Without a hope, a comfort, or a friend !"

And as she trembling speaks, his lively eyes pp. 180—182.

Explore her looks, he listens to ber sighs; The next story, which is entitled “Edward Charm'd by her voice, th' harmonious sounds invade Shore," also contains many passages of ex. His clouded mind, and for a time persuade : quisite beauty. The hero is a young man of Like a pleas'd Infant, who has newly caught aspiring genius and enthusiastic temper, with He stands enrapt, the half-known voice to hear,

From the maternal glance, a gleam of thought ; an ardent love of virtue, but no settled prin. And starts, half-conscious, at the falling tear! ciples either of conduct or opinion. He first “Rarely from town, nor then unwatch'd, he goes, conceives an attachment for an amiable girl, in darker mood, as if to hide his woes; who is captivated with his conversation ;- But soon returning, with impatience seeks (speaks ; but being too poor to marry, soon comes to His youthful friends, and shouts, and sings, and spend more of his time in the family of an el-Speaks a wild speech, with action all as wild derly sceptic (though we really see no object He spins their top, or at their bidding, bends in giving him that character) of his acquaint- His back. while o'er it leap his laughing friends ; ance, who had recently married a young wife, Simple and weak, he acts the boy once more, and placed unbounded confidence in her vir- And heedless children call him Silly Shore," tue, and the honour of his friend. In a mo

pp. 206, 207. ment of temptation, they abuse this confi- "Squire Thomas” is not nearly so interestdence. The husband renounces him with dig- ing. This is the history of a mean domineernified composure; and he falls at once from ing spirit, who, having secured the succession the romantic pride of his virtue. He then of a rich relation by assiduous flattery, looks seeks the company of the dissipated and gay; about for some obsequious and yielding fair and ruins his health and fortune, without re- one, from whom he may exact homage in his gaining his tranquillity. When in gaol, and turn. He thinks he has found such a one in miserable, he is relieved by an unknown hand; a lowly damsel in his neighbourhood, and and traces the benefaction to the friend whose marries her without much premeditation ;former kindness he had so ill repaid. This when he discovers, to his consternation, not humiliation falls upon his proud spirit and only that she has the spirit of a virago, but shattered nerves with an overwhelming force; that she and her family have decoyed him and his reason fails beneath it. He is for into the match, to revenge, or indemnify some time a raving maniac; and then falls themselves for his having run away with the into a state of gay and compassionable im- whole inheritance of their common relative. becility, which is described with inimitable She hopes to bully him into a separate main beauty in the close of this story. We can tenance—but his avarice refuses to buy his afford but a few extracts. The nature of the peace at such a price; and they continue to seductions which led to his first fatal lapse live together, on a very successful system of are well intimated in the following short pas mutual tormenting. sage:

“Jesse and Colin” pleases us much better, 51

2 1 2

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Jesse is the orphan of a poor clergyman, who | Blended with village-tones, the evening gulo
goes, upon her father's death, to live with a Gave the sweet night-bird's warblings to the vale ;
rich old lady who had been his friend; and The youth embolden'd, yet abash'd, now told
Colin is a young farmer, whose father had His fondest wish, nor found the Maiden cold," &c.

pp. 240, 241. speculated away an handsome property; and who, though living in a good degree by his “The Struggles of Conscience,” though visi. own labour, yet wished the damsel (who half bly laboured, and, we should suspect, a favour. wished it also) to remain and share his hum- ite with the author, pleases us less than any ble lot. The rich lady proves to be suspicious, tale in the volume. It is a long account of a overbearing, and'selfish; and sets Jesse upon low base fellow, who rises by mean and disthe ignoble duty of acting the spy and informer honourable arts to a sort of opulence; and, over the other dependents of her household; without ever committing any flagrant crime, on the delineation of whose characters Mr. sullies his mind with all sorts of selfish, heartCrabbe has lavished a prodigious power of less, and unworthy acts, till he becomes a prey observation and correct description :-But this to a kind of languid and loathsome remorse. not suiting her pure and ingenuous mind, she “ The Squire and the Priest” we do not like suddenly leaves the splendid mansion, and much better. A free living and free thinkreturns to her native village, where Colin and ing squire had been galled by the public rehis mother soon persuade her to form one of bukes of his unrelenting pastor, and breeds their happy family. There is a great deal up a dependent relation of his own to succeed of good-heartedness in this tale, and a kind to his charge. The youth drinks and jokes of moral beauty, which has lent more than with his patron to his heart's content, during usual elegance to the simple pictures it pre- the progress of his education ;- but just as sents. We are tempted to extract a good part the old censor dies, falls into the society of of the denouement.

Saints, becomes a rigid and intolerant Method

ist, and converts half the parish, to the infi“ The pensive Colin in his garden stray'd, But feli not then the beauties he display'd ;

nite rage of his patron, and his own ultimate

affliction. There many a pleasant object met his view, A rising wood of oaks behind it grew;

" The Confidant" is more interesting; A stream ran by it, and the village.green though not altogether pleasing. A fair one And public road were from the garden seen; makes a slip at the early age of fifteen, which Save where the pine and larch the bound'ry made, is concealed from every one but her mother, And on the rose beds threw a soft'ning shade. “ The Mother sat beside the garden-door,

and a sentimental friend, from whom she Dress'd as in times ere she and hers were poor;

could conceal nothing. Her after life is pure The broad-lac'd cap was known in ancient days,

and exemplary; and at twenty-five she is When Madam's dress compellid the village praise : married to a worthy man, with whom she And still she look'd as in the times of old"; | lives in perfect innocence and concord for Ere his last farm the erring husband sold;

many happy years. At last, the confidant of While yet the Mansion stood in decent state,

her childhood, whose lot has been less prosAnd paupers waited at the well-known gate.

"Alas! my Son!' the Mother cried, and why perous, starts up and importunes her for That silent grief and oft-repeated sigh?

money-not forgetting to hint at the fatal seFain would I think that Jesse still may come cret of which she is the depository. After To share the comforts of our rustic home : agonising and plundering her for years, she She surely lov'd thee; I have seen the maid,

at last comes and settles herself in her house, When ihou hast kindly brought the Vicar aid-When thou hast eas'd his bosom of its pain,

and embitters her whole existence by her sell. Oh! I have seen her-she will come again.'

ish threats and ungenerous extortions. The “ The Marron ceas’d; and Colin stood the while husband, who had been greatly disturbed at Silent, but striving for a grateful smile ;

the change in his wife's temper and spirits, He then replied -- Ah! sure had Jesse stay'd, at last accidentally overhears enough to put And shar'd the comforts of our sylvan shade,',&c. him in possession of the fact; and resolving “Sighing he spake—but hark! he hears th' ap to forgive a fault so long past, and so well re

proach
Of rattling wheels! and lo! the evening-coach ; paired, lakes occasion to intimate his know-
Once more the movement of the horses' feet ledge of it, and his disdain of the false confi-
Makes the fond heart with strong emotion beat: dant, in an ingenious apologue-which, how-
Faint were his hopes, but ever had the sight

ever is plain enough to drive the pestilent Drawn him to gaze beside his gate at night;

visiter from his house, and to restore peace
And when with rapid wheels it hurried by,
He griev'd his parent with a hopeless sigh; [sum and confidence to the bosom of his grateful
And could the blessing have been bought-what

wife. Had he not offer'd, to have Jesse come?

" Resentment” is one of the pieces in which
She came!-he saw her bending from the door, Mr. Crabbe has exercised his extraordinary
Her face, her smile, and he beheld no more;
Lost in his joy! The mother lent her aid

powers of giving pain—though not gratuitousT'assist and to detain the willing Maid;

Îy in this instance, nor without inculcating a Who thought her late, her present home to make, strong lesson of forgiveness and compassion. Sure of a welcome for the Vicar's sake;

A middle-aged merchant marries a lady of But the good parent was so pleas'd, so kind, good fortune, and persuades her to make it So pressing Colin, she so much inclin'd,

all over to him when he is on the eve of bankThat night advanc'd; and then so long detain'd No wishes to depart she felt, or feign'd; {main a. ruptcy: He is reduced to utter beggary; and Yet long in doubt she stood, and then perforce re

his wife bitterly and deeply resenting the “ In the mild evening, in the scene around,

wrong he had done her, renounces all con. The Maid, now free, peculiar beautics found; nection with him, and endures her own re

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