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We tell thy doom without a sigh;
For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's, -
One of the few, the immortal names,

That were not born to die!

1 SUPPLỊ-ANCE, Supplication ; en-| + St'LỊ-ỘTE. An inhabitant of Sull, a treaty ; submission.

mountainous district of Greece. & TROPHỊEŞ. Memorials of victory. 15 Mõs/LEM. Mussulmen ; Turks. 8 SIG'NET RÎNG. A ring containing a 6 STÖ'RỊED. Celebrated or mentioned signet or seal of authority.

in story.

XXIX.—THE HARD-HEARTED RICH MAN.

NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE. 1. Old Jacob Stock! The chimes of the clock were not more punctual in proclaiming the progress of time, than in marking the regularity of his visits at the temples of Plutus' in Threadneedle Street and Bartholomew Lane. His devotion to them was exemplary. In vain the wind and the rain, the hail and the sleet, battled against his rugged front. Not the slippery ice, nor the thickfalling snow, nor the whole artillery of elementary’ warfare, could check the plodding perseverance of the man of the world, or tempt him to lose the chance which the morning, however unpropitious it seemed in its external aspect, might yield him of profiting by the turn of a fraction.

2. He was a stout-built, round-shouldered, squab-looking 3 man, of a bearish aspect. His features were hard, and his heart was harder. You could read the interest-table in the wrinkles of his brow, trace the rise and fall of stocks 4 by the look of his countenance, while avarice, selfishness, and money-getting glared from his gray, glassy eye. Nature had poured no balm into his breast, nor was his “ gross and earthly mould” susceptible of pity. A single look of his would daunt the most importunate petitioner that ever attempted to extract hard coin by the soft rhetoric of a heart-moving tale.

3. The wife of one whom he had known in better days pleaded before him for her sick husband and famishing infants. Jacob, on occasions like these, was a man of few words. He was as chary of them as of his money, and he let her come to the end of her tale without interruption. She paused for a reply, but he gave none. “Indeed, he is very ill, sir.” “Can't help it.” “We are very distressed.” “Can't help it.” “Our poor children, too — .” “ Can't help that either.”

4. The petitioner's eye looked a mournful reproach, which would have interpreted itself to any other heart but his, “ Indeed, you can;" but she was silent. Jacob felt more awkwardly than he had ever done in his life. His hand involuntarily scrambled about his breeches' pocket. There was something like the weakness of human nature stirring within him. Some coin had unconsciously worked its way into his hand — his fingers insensibly closed; but the effort to draw them forth, and the impossibility of effecting it without unclosing them, roused the dormant' selfishness of his nature, and restored his self-possession.

5. “He has been very extravagant.” “Ah, sir, he has been very unfortunate, not extravagant.” “Unfortunate! Ah, it's the same thing. Little odds, I fancy. For my part, I wonder how folks can be unfortunate. I was never unfortunate. Nobody need be unfortunate if they look after the main chance. I always looked after the main chance." "He has had a large family to maintain.” “ Ah, married foolishly! no offence to you, ma’am. But when poor folks marry poor folks, what are they to look for, you know ? Besides, he was so foolishly fond of assisting others. If a friend was sick, or in jail, out came his purse, and then his creditors might go whistle. Now, if he had married a woman with money, you know, why then — ".

6. The supplicant turned pale, and was near fainting. Jacob was alarmed; not that he sympathized, but a woman's fainting was a scene that he had not been used to: besides, there was an awkwardness about it; for Jacob was a bachelor.

7. Sixty summers had passed over his head without imparting a ray of warmth to his heart; without exciting one tender feeling for the sex, deprived of whose cheering presence the paradise of the world were a wilderness of weeds. So he desperately extracted a crown piece from the depth profound, and thrust it hastily into her hand. The action recalled her wandering senses. She blushed it was the honest blush of pride at the meanness of the gift. She courtesied; staggered towards the door; opened it; closed it; raised her hand to her forehead, and burst into tears. . . .

1 PLŪ'Tys. The god of wealth among | 4 STOCKs. Property or shares in a the ancient Greeks.

national or other public debt; also, 2 ÉL-E-MĚNT'A-ry. Relating to or shares in a corporation, such as a

explaining elements or first princi railroad company, a bank, &c. ples ; here, of or belonging to one 5 CHÅR!¥. Sparing ; careful. or more of the four elements, earth, 6 Dör'MẠNT. Slumbering; sleeping; air, water, fire.

I suspended. 8 SQUÂB-LOOK'ING (lûk.). Short and / 7 MAIN CHẤNCE. That which best thick.

serves one's own interest.

XXX. - THE BOBOLINK.

IRVING.

[Washington Irving, author of “The Sketch Book," " Bracebridge Hall,” « Astoria,” “ Life of Columbus,” “ Life of Washington,” and various other well-known works, was born in the city of New York, April 8, 1783, and dieci November 28, 1859, Of all our writers, no one is so generally popular; and the universal favor with which his works are received is due, not merely to their great literary merits, their graceful style, rich humor, and unaffected pathos, but also to the fact that they are so strongly marked by the genial and amiable traits of the writer, which were conspicuous in his life, and made him beloved by all who knew him. The following extract is taken from " Wolfert's Roost," one of his late publications, consisting of narratives, essays, and sketches, most of which origj nally appeared in the Knickerbocker Magazine.)

1. THE happiest bird of our spring, however, and one that rivals the European lark in my estimation, is the boblincon, or bobolink, as be is commonly called. He arrives at that choice portion of our year which, in this latitude, answers to the description of the month of May, so often given by the poets.

2. With us it begins about the middle of May, and lasts until nearly the middle of June. Earlier than this, winter is apt to return on its traces, and to blight the opening beauties of the year; and later than this, begin the parching, and panting, and dissolving heats of summer. But in this genial interval Nature is in all her freshness and fragrance: “the rains are over and gone, the flowers appear upon the earth, the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle? is heard in the land."

3. The trees are now in their fullest foliage and brightest verdure; the woods are gay with the clustered flowers of the laurel; the air is perfumed by the sweet-brier and the wild rose; the meadows are enamelled with clover blossoms; while the young apple, the peach, and the plum begin to swell, and the cherry to glow among the green leaves.

4. This is the chosen season of revelry: of the bobolink. He comes amidst the pomp and fragrance of the season; his life seems all sensibility and enjoyment, all song and sunshine. He is to be found in the soft bosoms of the freshest and sweetest meadows, and is most in song when the clover is in blossom. He perches on the topmost twig of a tree, or on some long, flaunting weed, and as he rises and sinks with the breeze, pours forth a succession of rich, tinkling notes, crowding one upon another, like the outpouring melody of the sky-lark, and possessing the same rapturous character.

5. Sometimes he pitches from the summit of a tree, begins his song as soon as he gets upon the wing, and flutters tremulously down to the earth, as if overcome with ecstasy at his own music. Sometimes he is in pursuit of his mate; always in full song, as if he would win her by his melody; and always with the samt appearance of intoxication and delight.

6. Of all the birds of our groves and meadows the bobolink was the envy of my boyhood. He crossed my path in the sweetest weather, and the sweetest season of the year, when all nature called to the fields, and the rural feeling throbbed in every bosom; but when I, luckless urchin! was doomed to be mewed up, during the livelong day, in a school room. It seemed as if the little varlet * mocked at me as he flew by in full song, and sought to · taunt me with his happier lot.

7. O, how I envied him! No lessons, no task, no school; nothing but holiday, frolic, green fields, and fine weather. Had I been then more versed in poetry, I might have addressed him in the words of Logan to the cuckoo :

« Sweet bird, thy bower is ever green;

Thy sky is ever clear ;
Thou hast no sorrow in thy song,
No winter in thy year.

“O, could I fly, I'd fly with thee;

We'd make, on joyful wing,
Our annual visit round the globe,

Companions of the spring.”

8. Further observation and experience have given me a different idea of this feathered voluptuary', which I will venture to impart for the benefit of my young readers who may regard him with the same unqualified envy and admiration which I once indulged. I have shown him only as I saw him at first, in what I may call the poetical part of his career, when he in a manner devoted himself

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