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His Dame also was a sufferer from seyeral of his amusing, though dangerous exploits. Not long ago, he was detected in distributing letters of invitation to the house of a rich citizen, and was compelled to make a most humble and degrading apology, that he might escape the punishment which hoaxers deserve, Another time, while crossing the Thames with his sisters, he attempted to terrify them by rocking the slender skiff in which they had embarked; but giving it rather too sudden a moțion, he absolutely upset it. His folly involved the whole company in a complete sousing, and most probably would have terminated fatally, had they not been in the vicinity of other boats. He had reason to expect a considerable legacy from a maiden aunt, whose particular favourite he was, until he committed murder upon the bodies of two cats, whom I suppose he considered as his rivals in her affections; and in addition to this crime, (heinous indeed in the eyes of an antiquated maid !) he contrịyed to precipitate a couple of daws down the chimney of her parlour; which, besides throwing the poor woman into hysterịcs, dislodged a considerable quantity of soot from its receptacle, to the utter abolition of that purity and_neatness, which pervades the apartments of a maiden lady. But it is needless to extend the enumeration of these tricks any further. All that I can hope is, that he may escape any unfortunate accident from the effects of his folly a few years longer, when he may perhaps be induced to discontinue them, by the more sound reasonings of Maturity.
A few more words shall conclude the objections of Michael Qakley, Let us all consider, before we enter upon the various pursuits of Wit, whether the object which we seek will repay uş for the difficulties, the hazard, and the odium, which we must undergo in obtaining it. Let us observe the repulse which others meet with the slender triumph which generally crowns their most ardent expectations. It is not necessary that wisdom and talent should be discovered in Wit alonę: on the contrary, an outward show of it frequently reveals to us a shallow brain and an insufficiency of uyderstanding, which it labours, though ineffectually, to conceal. I cannot conclude this essay better, than in the words of Pope :
“ Unhappy wit, like most mistaken things,
Atones not for the envy which it brings,
“ Ibant obscuri solâ sub nocte per umbras."-En. vi.
But in the mind's half-slumbering mood,
When weary care retires to rest, When all within is solitude,
Descend, dear visionary guest!
-Nor come, sweet shadow that thou art !
Amidst the hum and glare of day ;
-But on the solemn verge of night,
When the great west is all on fire, And, setting like a rose of light,
The sun seems softly to retire ; .
Or when the pearly moon on high, i
Her sail of beauty has unfurl’d,
Her softer sunshine o'er a sleeping world : Or in that hour scarce less divine,
When twilight slowly yields to day, And towers, and walls, and temples shine
White with the sun's unrisen ray:
-When nature and the hour sublime,
Have wrought a curtain fit for thee, Come, daughter of departed time!
Come, in the night of memory!
Come in the glory of the past,
The beauty which remembrance throws, O'er all the scene behind us cast
Oh burst my dark and dull repose!
-Forget not him, once dearly known,
Whom now thine eyes no more must see; Forget not him, who here alone,
'Mid night and silence thinks of thee!
Save that the winds of morning play,
In half-heard murmurs, round my brow; Save the hoarse watch-dog's distant bay,
Or my own footsteps pacing low.
As through these courts (that, lighted here,
By the pale dawn, lie there in shade,) My slow unvaried course I steer,
What visions rise—what thoughts invade ?
-I think, my Emily, of thee!
I think of happy moments past; From our young days of amity
Down to the hour we parted last;
And those laté meetings of delight, i
So few, so short, so simply sweet, They've left behind a track as white
As many a bliss more exquisite !
The dawn is brightening o'er the sky;
I go-perchance to think of thee; Farewell—and trust in Him on high, My own heart-honour'd Emily!
The lattice flaps with sullen sound;
'Mid the dull wind that moans around.
But nought of human sounds is here ;
The hum of daily life is flown;
Amidst the gloom she walks alone.
TO INTELLECTUAL LIBERTY.