To know no cheerful morn of rest;
No balmy hour of sleep to prove,
To hold philosophy a jest!

Say, is it Love?

To cherish grief, nor dare complain;
To envy sainted souls above;
While jealous anguish rends the brain ;
Say, is it Love?

Long have I, doom'd, alas! to grieve,
Against the fell enchantment strove ;
Then, FATE, ah! let me “ cease to live,

"Or CEASE TO LOVE."

REFLECTIONS IN AN AUCTION ROOM AT BATH.

"Omnia, castor, emis, sic fiet ut omnia vendas.

MARTIAL."

(A translation of this motto concludes the article.)

A HEAD of a college in Oxford, being under a necessity of coming to Bath every season for his wife's health, found it advisable, himself being advanced in years, to take a small house in one of the old squares, and in order to furnish it at less expence, he attended every auction and sale of goods for near half a year together; by which means he had contracted such an habitual emacity, as Pliny calls it,

(or propensity to purchase every thing that we see,. especially if it strikes our fancy, under the idea of being a cheap and great bargain,) that after he had accomplished his purpose for which he attended those repositories of damaged furniture, he still persevered in purchasing what he did not want; and at a sale by hand, I saw the Rev. Dr. ascend, "ab inferis," from the infernal regions of the kitchen and the scullery, with a basting ladle in one hand and a gridiron in the other; so that, in short, after his wife* died, and he returned to reside in college, his house was found full from the cellar to the garret, with empty barrels, chairs, and tables, beds and chests of drawers, enough to furnish one of the largest lodging houses in Bath.

"Nature," as Lord Bacon observes, "knows not how to keep a mean;" and from the principle of self-preservation, we never think we can secure a sufficient stock of the comforts and conveniences of life. Hence this habit of accumulating whatever we fancy will contribute to that end; not only money and land, but every other article of utility, ornament, or amusement. I knew a miser who dressed more meanly than a day-labourer, yet after his death, his chests were found full of handsome suits of clothes and a dozen pair of shoes, made by the first artisans in London; and I remember a young baronet,

* Those who would see a pattern for good wives, may read Mrs. L-b-r's epitaph in the abbey church at Bath,

who being fond of hunting, when he left the university, carried a dozen pair of buck-skin breeches with him from a celebrated operator then in Oxford.

I myself, from the same accumulating instinct, have filled my house with such a multitude of pictures, that they have spread from the parlour into the passages, and from thence to the smoaky walls of the kitchen; nor yet is my appetite cloyed, or my taste for pictures diminished. This habit, I believe, is confirmed by the number of auctions; as auctions, on the contrary, are multiplied and supported, to an immense degree, by idle people, who, if they can save their money, consider their time as of no value; nay, are glad to get rid of it on such easy terms.

As I have often visited these places of resort in hopes of purchasing a picture or a book, at an easy rate, when the majority of the company were only intent on buying chairs and tables, and as I generally was very early at the scene of action, I had an ofportunity of observing the whole process of the affair.

And first, about half an hour before he commences his operations, the hierophant, or chief performer, enters, and with the air of a general before an engagement, surveys the various articles that are arranged in order to come successively into action; gives his clerk and his porters their several instructions; and prepares himself perhaps by premida

tion, with some panegyric on the most valuable lots, or some pleasantry on the worthless ones.

And now the company begins to assemble; three or four constant attendants, (I speak of the auctions in Bath,)* of senatorial appearance, (egregious triflers) take their seats at the upper end of the table; they produce their catalogues and their pencils, to register the exact price of every article.

And now, behold, the orator ascends the rostrum, and every breast pants with expectation, like that of the courser at the starting-post before the sounding of the trumpet.

After three or four preliminary lots of broken or cracked china basons, odd knives and forks, and a brass candlestick, which the aforesaid solemn per

* As I have seldom had an opportunity of attending the colebrated Longford's or Christie's auctions in London, as I live in the vicinity of Bath, I have taken my ideas from thence: where, however, I believe, in proportion to its extent, are more auctions than in the metropolis.

This reminds me of the late Dr. Harringtont, who, about fifty years ago, was the senior of the only two physicians then monopolizing the whole practice of Bath ;(“ Credite, posteri !") and who, when some whimsical patient would have consulted with his own London physician, and the young prig would perhaps ask Dr. Harrington, "Don't you think, doctor, it would be proper to take more blood from our patient?" "Oh! yes—you come from London, you must certainly know better than me; yes, yes, Sir, you come from London," &c. &c. &c.

Uncle to the present ingenious Dr. H.-ton.

sonages carefully mark in the margin of their câtalogues," Here, gentlemen," says the herald of advantageous purchases, "here is an article worth your attention! It is not only a curious specimen of the taste of our ancestors," says he, pointing to an old elbow-chair, "who made their furniture as they built their barns, of the heart of oak; but it is supposed to be the very chair in which the renowned John Bunyan dreamed his dream, and saw his vision, and ascended in imagination from this world to the celestial paradise.-Come gentlemen, who bids half a guinea for John Bunyan's elbow◄ chair?" Some little broker in the corner of the room, bade eighteen pence!-Down went the hammer.

Well, gentlemen," says the auctioneer, "I find you have no taste for antiquities. Here is a modern piece of furniture, in the first style of elegance-a superb sofa! The frame richly carved and gilt, with the seat of blue damask.-Come, ladies and gentlemen"He was going on in the usual strain, when the company at the door was in motion, and making way for Lady Bustleton, and a train of half a dozen humble friends: and advancing towards the rostrum, the orator begged the favour of the gentlemen to make a little room for her ladyship. “A little room," said a gentleman in a low voice," will not be sufficient for her ladyship," (who was a star of the first magnitude). He then desired the lady to do him the honour of looking at the sofa, on which he said some of the first families in the kingdom had reposed themselves; that it had belonged to the cele