Still mid the wreck, one sentiment will last
Memory is still my heritage, and I
Oft ponder on the history of the past,
Think of my fate, and then in secret sigh.

Friends of the fair, &c. &c.

Oft as the dread unpitying storm has swept
My native land, so oft I lost my all;
Still, like a patriot, to my post I kept,

And proudly drank a cup unmixed with gall.*
Though hard my lot, I never would repine,
For I would mix the village group among,

E'en on the vine-clad hills, that once were mine,
And cheered their labours with an old man's song.
Friends of the fair, &c. &c.

I too have fought, but unlike Nestor, I
Do not to olden times confine my praise;
No, all my laurels would I give to buy

But one achievement of these latter days.
Pure was the standard under which I fought,
And conquered too, in many a former war;
But the still nobler deeds that you have wrought,
Bind an old soldier to the "tri-color."

Friends of the fair, &c. &c.

Now fill each glass, and toast some favourite belle,
Whilst I your future destinies foretell,
The seeds you've sown amid inclement skies,
Nursed by a generous soil shall root and bloom.
Freedom shall reign, and happier days arise,
To shed their lustre on an old man's tomb.
My days are drawing to a close, and fate
Points to the grave; but yet, perchance, I may
Returning spring-tide's earlier blossoms wait,
Inhale their fragrance, and then pass away.
Friends of the fair, of wine, and glory, deign,
T'accept the tribute of an old man's strain.

* L'orgueil blessé ne mèle point du fiel.

JOHN WARING.

A PERSIAN STANZA.

As the dew that distils from the sky on the plain,
My tears and my sighs on thy breast I have shed:
As the dew-drops return, fraught with perfume, again,
Return me my sighs, fraught with love, in their stead!

M.

I HAD been dozing all day over the voluminous marriage settlement of Isaac Stocks, Esquire, and Rebecca Pinfold, Spinster, and, as the clock struck eight in the evening, it struck me that my most agreeable course would be to shut up shop, and take a walk, long or short, as the fates might please. So throwing my Mackintosh over my shoulders, I wended forth, passing along Holborn, leaving on the right the castle of him

"To Greeks the direful Spring,"

and in a few minutes was in the Strand. This is, to a novice, which I was ten years ago, a very dangerous part of town, for very obvious reasons; and it is not until after several seasons that a tyro can pass along it unstranded. "But we who have free souls, and so forth," says Hamlet, and on the night I speak of I went steadily on,—

"I looked, not lovingly, at that Divan,"

withstood the invitations of the Adelphi, (Messrs. Matthews and Yates, I suppose,) and almost reached Charing Cross, when I discerned a young familiar face approaching. We hailed in due time; the arrival was G- A————, the painter.

"Well met, by gaslight, friend A

"This meeting was well made," was the reply; "I thought of calling on you to-night."

I regret to say I made no brighter answer than-" I should have been very glad to see you. Let us turn back."

"It is too cold for sauntering; shall we look into the Rainbow?" "Iris will be proud of our company-but you do not appear well?" "It is nothing, the cold air-too much confinement-over-fatigue in a country excursion-nothing."

66

Nay, my dear A- it is true we have not been acquainted very long, but you will allow me to ask a less contradictory account of your illness. I have more than once observed

"What?" said he, in a voice that not only startled me, but caused one policeman and two milliners to look round, and a little dirty boy to cry, "Ax!"

"That you have looked out of spirits."

"You shall not have reason to say so to-night, unless our landlord

is in the same predicament."

"This is forced, my friend, and the joke too poor to be your's."

"I might tell you a tale which it would do me no good to communicate, nor you to hear. Let us laugh."

"As you will."

"A very half-hearted answer, and one you think most fit for so cautious a person as myself."

"You do me wrong," said I.

"I should like to raise your spirits

in the way you prefer, but pardon my saying, that I doubt

66

My confidence in you, or whether I have anything to tell worth hearing."

"Now, d-n it, A——, of all————”

"Don't be offended with me, Charles, I cannot bear that, I did not mean to be rude, and I am sorry I spoke."

"A--!" and our hands met.

then I said.

We walked several yards, and

"But instead of this place, come to my chambers, and spend the evening with me there, the walk will do you good, and I can offer you a sofa, if we should be late."

"I never sleep from home, Charles, and but seldom there." This was said in a low voice, almost a whisper. He added, in a livelier tone, "But I will go with you, with all my-pshaw-Allons."

For the rest of the way my companion was actually merry, not altogether to my astonishment, for I knew a little of his versatility. I determined to hear his story, if possible, however; and it will be very ungrateful if my readers attribute this wish to anything like curiosity.

I bolted the door, cleared the table in three minutes, stirred the fire, and produced certain bottles and glasses, and in a short time my little "sanctum snorum" looked as cheerful as most places of business do when the signs and tokens thereof are removed.

“Shall we have a truce to the usual formularies? I don't mean the regular after-dinner phrases, but to the more refined healths we youths delight to honour."

66

By all means. What you please, you will not frighten me." "Are you assured of that ?" said A

I fancied I saw him tremble.

"I used to think so."

-, looking steadily at me.

"Then here-" THE FIEND'S PICTURE!"

"I drink it, hoping for an explanation."

"I owe it you now, and you shall have one." "Not, if the recollection is painful to you."

"Recollection-painful-ha! ha! ha! good, good, as if the damned the hellish memorial were not engraved here-here, in fire, in” and he pressed his hand upon his brow, and breathed hard. "For God's sake, A, what is this? Shall I get you some water?" And I rose for the purpose.

"Pooh! pooh! what am I saying? I was about to tell you my story, and to give a toast. Here's your Mary."

"Thank you. Mine! Ay-twenty years hence-after wasting myself till forty over dusty cases, ten folios to the sheet, and making a dozen half-guinea motions on endorsed sheets of blank paper. But such is one's doom."

"Doom! how you talk! After years of sober industry at a profession which will at length, by custom, become dear to you, you will

acquire an honourable competence, and marry the girl who stands next your heart, and be thankful. Doom, indeed! Now listen to me, and then talk of dooms. You know, I believe, that I am the son of a late medical man of eminence, who gave me what is called, by a most lamentable perversion of terms, a good education."

"I don't talk nonsense to you, and therefore you'll believe me when I tell you that I've seen no reason in your case to dispute the wisdom of your father's measures."

"Well, I'll tell you. I went to a small select school at eight years old, and remained there till fifteen. I learned a great deal of Greek and Latin, for both of which I am very grateful. I also learned to write, and to speak a little villanous French, both of which acquisitions have also been useful to me. For the rest, a smattering of arithmetic, aud a very partial acquaintance with Euclid, completed my education. I went out into the world as ignorant of it, of myself, and of general principles, as it was well possible for me to be."

"You don't intend to reflect upon what you did learn?"

"Far from it; I would not have missed it for worlds; I speak of what I did not learn. But I grow prosy. Here's to the church." "Que voulez-vous dire ?"

"What I say, no matter why, I'll drink that toast while there's life in my veins I have good cause. When I left school my father wished me to join him in his profession. I consented, caring little what I took up, and only stipulating that I should be allowed some hours in the week for my drawing, a study which had all my life been my principal amusement, though I had never been regularly taught it. He consented, but he had better not have done so, for with a greatly increased allowance of money, I contrived to procure instruction in my favourite pursuit, attended lectures on drawing and landscapes, instead of those on exenterating mankind, very much neglected the scalpel for the pencil, and preferred the anatomical models at Somerset House to the real dead subjects at Surgeons' Hall."

"I should have thought the line of study you pursued, might have improved you, even for your own profession."

"Much as you would be advanced in drawing a marriage settlement by hearing a sermon on conjugal duties. But to proceed. My father took an opportunity of inquiring into my studies, and found them not so satisfactory as he could have wished. I sulked, and he scolded and threatened, until I seized a moment for telling him that I had rather paint a good historical picture, than be the most powerful ally to the undertaker that ever existed. The worthy man was rather astonished, but ultimately consented to my modest request, that he would allow me to prosecute my drawing researches in lieu of any other pursuit, with the advantage of the entrée of all the galleries in London, and an Italian tour in prospective, as soon as it would be of utility."

lity."

Certainly you were very backward in calculating on his libera

"Was I not? I reaped the fruits of my confidence for some time, paid close attention to my pallet, and was considered one of the most

tasteful of the academy pupils. I now gave up all idea of a profession, and resolved to win my way through life as Angelo and Raphael had done before me. About this time I was introduced by my father to the family of Sir Thomas V. This gentleman had served in the army, and had retired upon a wound and pension to enjoy the ot. cum dig. in one of the fashionable streets at the other end of the town. He aspired to the character of a man of taste, and was pleased to express considerable approbation of a landscape I had painted for my father, but which, upon such flattering encouragement, I resolved to present to the knight. He was so good as to accept it."

"Particularly obliging."

"I thought so. But I should have spoken of his daughter, before I mentioned him. You know one is never to be trusted in portraying the idol of one's soul, and would perhaps laugh at an attempt to describe Laura V. I might tell you as a painter, that her figure and face were of the finest Grecian mould, that her beautiful tresses and radiant complexion rivalled the deepest jet, the purest alabaster, that her dark eyes shone through and through you, and--but where is the shoulder-knotted fashionable novelist who cannot say as much for his countesses and chambermaids? You will understand me best when I tell you that I lost heart and soul, and every other transferrable portion of my composition to Laura V- within three days of our acquaintance."

"And she returned your attachment."

"Not exactly. But she did not reject me, she smiled at my flatteries, flattered my pictures, and I gave up painting and all besides to be near and worship her."

"Her father?"

"Mine was the most important actor in my day-dream, for within a month of my introduction to the V—s, he suddenly died, leaving me a bare subsistence, amounting to scarcely one-third of the liberal allowance I had previously enjoyed."

"Was this intentional ?"

"I have reason to believe that he lived almost up to his income, which being merely the profits of his profession, of course, ceased at his death. The circumstance did not alter my love for Laura; I visited her as early as decency would permit, and, in the openness of my heart, explained my circumstances, and made a proffer of marriage. She referred me to papa, taking the precaution of repeating to him the whole of my disclosures."

"And you spoke to him on the subject?"

"I began to do so, and demanded the only daughter of a high-born, wealthy, haughty soldier, in marriage with a humble painter, possessed of a studio full of artistical paraphernalia, and two hundred and fifty pounds a-year."

66

I hope he did not kick you down stairs."

"What ideas you must have of the polite world! No, Tom, Sir Thomas was a man of good breeding, he simply declined my offer, stating that particular circumstances deprived him of the honour of accepting it, and rang the bell. I saw him take up a newspaper before my back was well turned."