and grateful to that all-perfect Being who knows the secrets of the heart." Sentiments of this nature and tendency are at all times impressive, but doubly so, under circumstances like the present; and surely if riches are worth grasping at, it must be to dispense them in beneficent actions: such, to me, appeared those of the stranger. Every day added praise to the unknown gentleman, whose sole care was to encrease the happiness of others. His beneficence too was the more beautiful inasmuch as it was sincere, and devoid of ostentation. It is not merely an action itself that is lovely or good. We ought justly to appreciate the motive, or principle, that produces that action; from a candid deduction of this kind we are enabled rightly to estimate men and manners. The conduct of the stranger was such as entitled him to our warmest acknowledgments, and I felt a powerful inclination to be more intimately acquainted with a character, whose behaviour not only claimed my admiration, but that of every one who heard it. A more than curiosity prompted me to the discovery of his residence; and, confident that the stranger had taken up his abode not far distant, I was all anxiety to discover the favourite spot. How frequently do events revolve contrary to expectation, and how often does it happen that queries of the greatest import are discovered and solved by chance! It was in the latter part of June, whilst indolently reclined under the spreading oak, reading my favorite Thomson*, that I was accosted by a gentleman, whose appearance at once indicated a something inexpressibly prepossessing. His eye * May I here transcribe a few lines, or rather an apostrophe, to this amiable man: it is the heartfelt effusion of a youth who lately made a pilgrimage to the grave of our bard : THOMSON. Hail, "mild Nature's child!" Hail kind poet! for the tenor of thy life, like thy strains, was lovely and endearing. But ah! dost thou now sleep here in silence—or doth thy instructive muse slumber with thee in the dust-or doth this silent grave, which entombs thy gentle ashes, entomb likewise the essence of thy virtuous strains? What am I saying?-rather do they soar with thy mild soul to scenes of bliss and happiness! Dear to me is this spot in which are mingled thy ashes: dear to me the very plain stone which modestly canopies thy remains :-twice dear thy virtues, virtues simple as the rising flowerets, and innocent as the "virgin snow." Memory scans thy soaring, yet mild majestic wanderings. In spring thy arduous muse unfolds the opening bud, the oozing rills, the warbling loves, and the fair expanding whole. In summer, the wafting zephyrs, the gladdened hill and dale, the sun's potent and all powerful exhilaration. In autumn, with pleasing awe, the wise provision of Nature's God. In winter, thou outsteppest all efforts, and risest with thy theme sublime. And while to Newton's great mind thou payest the merited eulogium, to thy own thou entwinest a laurel that will never fade ;-and whilst with daring wing thou singest Britannia's weal-of Liberty and Talbot-thou crownest thy name with unfading darted a mild, yet striking penetration-his features regular, and his person well proportioned-his dress a flowing robe, somewhat like that of the clerical pro fession, and withal so plain and becoming, that I could not but admire the neatness and elegance of my unexpected visitor. Still more was I struck with his polite and engaging conversation. His remarks at this time were chiefly confined to the adjoining scenery, in course to the works of the immortal, the amiable bard. I listened to his conversation with avidity. He at length intimated that an engagement called him thence. He bade me farewel. My eye followed him through the thicket; I wished to mark his destination, but timidity forbade me to intrude. When the stranger had disappeared, a variety of reflections took possession of my mind. Well, thought I, perchance I may again meet with him; and from this hope I derived consolation. THE SHEPHERD LAD. On my return home, I was delightfully entertained with the sound of distant music: the hills reechoed with the fascinating melody, again the warbling notes float in the dale, again sigh they with the lustre, a lustre that envy and pride cannot tarnish. Peace to thy ashes-dear gentle bard! Adieu-again adieu, dear monitor of my youth ! gentle zephyr. Methought some kind Geni had deigned to captivate this wild romantic district. I walked towards the spot from whence the harmony proceeded I discovered a shepherd, indolently reclined on the grass, his dog lying a few paces from him, and his flock feeding on the oderiferous thyme. As I approached the reclining swain, a thousand pleasing ideas rushed upon my recollection; and thus, said I, lived they in Arcadia-thus lived our primitive fathers-they lived in quietude, and were happy. Ithought me on Theocritus, on Virgil, and on the poets of our own times. Peace to their ashes, said I, and fame to the memory of those who now chant the joys of rural happiness. "To whose ashes," enquired the shepherd "and to whose fame ?" To the bards who have sung, and who sing the pleasures of a rural life, said I. "Peace and fame to their memory," rejoined the swain. You are happy, my lad, said I. "I live in solitude," said he. You envy no one, said I-the shepherd looked mournfully-surely envy does not find a place in your heart, said I. "Then it does in my head," said the shepherd. Why in your head? said I. “I love Peggy, (said the lad,) but Peggy loves not me." And doth this make thee unhappy? said I. "Wretch that I am, I wish my eyes had never seen her," said the shepherd. His fixed thought, and downcast woe, betokened a love-sick heart. Fare you well, shepherd, said I-the lad looked pitifully, took nis pipe, and again tuned a plaintive air. And is it thus, said I, as I musingly left the shepherd, that love pervades every scene, and every clime? Is it thus, said I, that each inhabitant of earth feels, more or less, cause for disquietude? Not only man's imperial race, but they I next morning rose by the dawn; nature seemed animated by repose. There was in all around a mild, a grand, a picturesque display. The silver dew covered each floweret, and the grey, then blushing east, proclaimed with happiest tint the mighty orb of day. With the rising lark my thoughts ascended to the most high; warmed with gratitude they expanded, and I felt joy unutterable. In this happy reverie, whom should I meet but the very stranger with whom I so ardently courted an acquaintance. Pleasing was his hail of welcome. Corvinus (for this is the name I assign him) assumed the familiarity of a friend. We wandered amongst the glens, now listening to the warbling songsters, the purling brook, then in raptures extolling the works of Nature; or rather the works of Nature's God. Corvinus expatiated with uncommon warmth on the advantages of solitude, the pleasures of a country life, and the joys so |