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'Mid the dust, and speed, and clamour
Of the loom-shed and the mill;
'Midst the clink of wheel and hammer,
Great results are growing still.
Though too oft by fashion's creatures
Work and workers may be blamed,
Commerce need not hide its features-
Industry is not ashamed.

What is noble? That which places
Truth in its enfranchised will,
Leaving steps, like angel-traces,
That mankind may follow still.
E'en though scorn's malignant glances
Prove him poorest of his clan,
He's the Noble who advances
Freedom and the Cause of Man.

Charles Swain.

OWD PINDER.

(By permission of the Author.)

OWD PINDER were a rackless foo,
An' spent his days i' spreein';
At th' end ov every drinkin' do
He're sure to crack o' deein':
"Go, sell my rags, an' sell my shoon,
Aw's never live to trail 'em ;
My ballis-pipes are eawt o' tune,
An' th' wynt begins to fail 'em.

"Eawr Matty's very fresh an' yung-
"Twould ony mon bewilder-
Hoo'll wed again afore its lung,

For th' lass is fond o' childer:
My bit o' brass 'll fly,-yo'n see-
When th' coffin lid has screened me,

It gwos again my pluck to dee,
An' lev her wick beheend me.

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Come, Matty, come, an' cool my yed,
Aw'm finished, to my thinkin';"
Hoo happed him nicely up, an' said,
"Thae's brought it on wi' drinkin'!"
Nay, nay," said he, "my fuddle's done;
We're partin' t' one fro t'other;

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So, promise me that when aw'm gwon
Thea'll never wed another!"

"Th' owd tale," said hoo, an' laft her stoo : "It's rayley past believin',

Thee think o' th' world thea'rt goin' to,

An' leave this world to th' livin'.
What use to me can deead folk be?
Thae's kilt thisel wi' spreein';
An' iv that's o' thae wants wi' me,
Get forrud wi' thi deein' !"

He scrat his yed, he rubb'd his e'e, An' then he donned his breeches; "Eawr Matty gets as fause," said he, "As one o' Pendle witches.

Iv ever aw'm to muster wit,

It mun be now or never;

Aw think aw'll try to live a bit;

It wouldn't do to lev her."

THE CAPTIVE.

Edwin Waugh.

STAY, gaoler, stay, and hear my woe :
She is not mad who kneels to thee;
But what I am too well I know,

And what I was, and what should be.
I'll rave no more in proud despair,
My language shall be mild, tho' sad;
But yet I'll firmly, truly swear,

I am not mad! I am not mad!

My tyrant husband forged the tale
That chains me to this dismal cell :
My fate unknown my friends bewail:
O, gaoler, haste that fate to tell;
Oh! haste my father's heart to cheer,
His heart at once to grieve and glad
To know, though kept a captive here,
I am not mad! I am not mad!

He smiles in scorn, and turns the key ;
He quits the grate; I knelt in vain ;
His glimmering lamp, still, still I see ;
He's gone; and all is gloom again.
Cold, bitter cold-no warmth, no light.
Life, all thy comforts once I had;
Yet, here I'm chained this freezing night,
Although not mad-no! no! not mad!
'Tis sure some dream, some vision vain :
What I, the child of rank and wealth,
Am I the wretch who clanks this chain,
Bereft of freedom, friends, and health?
Ah! while I mourn all blessings fled,

Which never more my heart will glad,
How aches my heart, how burns my head:
But 'tis not mad-no! no! not mad!

Hast thou, my child, forgot me thus ?
A mother's voice, a mother's tongue?
She'll ne'er forget your parting kiss,
Nor round her neck how fast you clung,
Nor how with her you wished to stay,
Nor how that suit your sire forbade,

Nor how!-I'll drive such thoughts away-
They'll make me mad!—they'll make me mad!

His rosy lips, how sweet they smiled;

His mild blue eyes how bright they shone;

None ever bore a lovelier child.

And art thou now for ever gone?
And must I never see thee more,
My pretty, pretty, pretty lad?
I will be free! unbar the door!
I am not mad!-I am not mad!

But, hark! what means those yells and cries?
His chain some furious madman breaks;
He comes! I see his glaring eyes!

Now-now my dungeon grate he shakes!
Help! help! He's gone.
Oh! fearful woe,
Such screams to hear, such sights to see:
My brain-my brain! I know-I know
I am not mad, but soon shall be !

Yes, soon; for lo! you, while I speak,
Mark how yon demon's eyeballs glare!
He sees me! Now, with horrid shriek,
He whirls a serpent high in air.
Horror! the reptile strikes his tooth
Deep in this heart, so crushed and sad!
Ah! laugh ye fiends! I feel the truth;
Your task is done: I'm mad! I'm mad!

M. G. Lewis.

CAIUS MARIUS TO THE ROMANS.

IT is but too common, my countrymen, to observe a material difference between the behaviour of those who stand candidates for places of power and trust, before and after their obtaining them. They solicit them in one manner, and execute them in another. They set out with a great appearance of activity, humility, and moderation, and they quickly fall into sloth, pride, and avarice. It is, undoubtedly, no easy matter to discharge, to the general satisfaction, the duty of a supreme commander in troublous times. I am, I hope, duly sensible of the importance of the office I propose to take upon me for the service of my country. To carry on, with effect, an expensive war, and yet be frugal of the public money; to oblige those to serve whom it may be delicate to offend; to conduct, at the same time, a complicated variety of operations; to concert measures at home, answerable to the state of things abroad; and to gain every valuable end, in spite of opposition from the envious, the factious, and the disaffected ;-to do all this, my countrymen, is more difficult than is generally thought.

But, besides the disadvantages which are common to me with all others in eminent stations, my case is, in this respect, peculiarly hard; that, whereas a commander of patrician rank, if he is guilty of a neglect or breach of duty, has his great connexions, the antiquity of his family, the important services of his ancestors, and the multitudes he has, by power, engaged in his interest, to screen him from condign punishment, my whole safety depends upon myself; which renders it the more indispensably necessary for me to take care that my conduct be clear and unexceptionable. Besides, I am well aware, my countrymen, that the eye of the public is upon me; and that, though the impartial, who prefer the real advantage of the commonwealth to all other considerations, favour my pretensions, the patricians want nothing so much as an occasion against me. It is, therefore, my fixed resolution to use my best endeavours that you be not disappointed in me, and that their indirect designs against me may be defeated.

I have, from my youth, been familiar with toils and with dangers. I was faithful to your interest, my countrymen, when I served you for no reward but that of honour. It is not my design to betray you, now that you have conferred upon me a place of profit. You have committed to my conduct the war against Jugurtha. The patricians are offended at this. But where would be the wisdom of giving such a command to one of their honourable body?— a person of illustrious birth, of an ancient family, of innumerable statues, but of no experience! What service would his long line of dead ancestors, or his multitudes of motionless statues, do his country in the day of battle? What would such a general do, but, in his trepidation and inexperience, have recourse to some inferior commander for direction in difficulties to which he was not himself equal? Thus your patrician general would, in fact, have a general over him; so that the acting commander would still be a plebeian. So true is this, my countrymen, that I have, myself, known those who have been chosen consuls begin then to read the history of their own country, of which, till that time, they were totally ignorant that is, they first obtained the employment, and then bethought ⚫ themselves of the qualifications necessary for the discharge of it.

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