benefit unrequited; every past endearment unregarded, of that departed being, who can never-never-never return to be soothed by thy contrition! If thou art a child, and hast ever added a sorrow to the soul, or a furrow to the silvered brow of an affectionate parent; if thou art a husband, and hast ever caused the fond bosom that ventured its whole happiness in thy arms to doubt one moment of thy kindness or thy truth; if thou art a friend, and hast ever wronged, in thought, or word, or deed, the spirit that generously confided in thee; if thou hast given one unmerited pang to that true heart, which now lies cold and still beneath thy feet; then be sure that every unkind look, every ungracious word, every ungentle action, will come thronging back upon thy memory, and knocking *dolefully at thy soul; then be sure that thou wilt lie down sorrowing and repentant on the grave, and utter the unheard groan, and pour the tunavailing tear; more deep, more bitter, because unheard and unavailing. 5. Then weave thy chaplet of flowers, and strew the beauties of nature about the grave; console thy broken spirit, if thou canst, with these tender, yet *futile *tributes of regret; but take warning by the bitterness of this, thy contrite affliction over the dead, and henceforth, be more faithful and affectionate in the discharge of thy duties to the living. CLXIII. THE PEARL-DIVER. FROM MRS. HEMANS. 1. THOU hast been where the rocks of coral grow, 2. Thou hast looked on the gleaming wealth of old, The deep is a strong and fearful hold, But thou its bar hast riven! 3. A wild and weary life is thine, A wasting task and lone; Though treasure grots for thee may shine, 4. A weary life! but a swift decay Thou'rt passing fast from thy toils away, 5. In thy dim eye, on thy hollow cheek, 7. None!—as it gleams from the queen-like head, Not one, 'mid throngs, will say, "A life hath been, like a rain-drop, shed 8. Woe for the wealth thus dearly bought! Who win for earth the gems of thought? 9. Down to the gulfs of the soul they go, 10. Wringing from lava-veins the fire 11. But O, the price of bitter tears, That throws at last, o'er desert years, 12. Like flower-seeds by the wild wind spread, The soul whence those high gifts are shed, 13. And who will think, when the strain is sung, Till a thousand hearts are stirred, What life-drops from the minstrel wrung, 14. None, none!-his treasures live like thine, Thou that hast been to the pearl's dark shrine, CLXIV. ANECDOTE OF THE DUKE OF NEWCASTLE. A LAUGHABLE story was circulated during the administration of the old Duke of Newcastle, and retailed to the public in various forms. This nobleman, with many good points, was remarkable for being profuse of his promises on all occasions, and valued himself particularly, on being able to anticipate the words or the wants of the various persons who attended his levees, before they uttered a word. This sometimes led him into ridiculous embarrassments; and it was this proneness to lavish promises, which gave occasion for the following anecdote. 1. AT the election of a certain borough in Cornwall, where the opposite interests were almost equally *poised, a single vote was of the highest importance. This object, the Duke by well applied argument and personal application, at length attained; and the gentleman he recommended, gained the election. In the warmth of gratitude, his grace poured forth acknowledgments and promises without ceasing, on the fortunate possessor of the casting vote; called him his best and dearest friend; protested, that he should consider himself as forever indebted to him; that he would serve him by night or by day. 2. The Cornish voter, who was an honest fellow, and would not have thought himself entitled to any reward, but for such a torrent of acknowledgments, thanked the Duke for his kindness, and told him, "The supervisor of excise was old and infirm, and if he would have the goodness to recommend his son-in-law to the commissioners, in case of the old man's death, he should think himself and his family bound to render his grace every assistance in his power, on any future occasion." "My dear friend, why do you ask for such a trifling employment?" exclaimed his grace; "your relative shall have it, the moment the place is vacant, if you will but call my attention to it." "But how shall I get admitted to you, my lord? for in London, I understand, it is a very difficult business to get a sight of you great folks, though you are so kind "The instant the and complaisant to us in the country." man dies," replied the Duke, "set out post-haste for London; drive directly to my house, and be it by night or by day, thunder at the door; I will leave word with my porter, to show you up stairs directly; and the employment shall be disposed of according to your wishes." 3. The parties separated; the Duke drove to a friend's house in the neighborhood, without a wish or desire to see his new acquaintance till that day seven years; but the memory of a Cornish elector, not being burdened with such a variety of objects, was more retentive. The supervisor died a few months after, and the Duke's humble friend, relying on the word of a peer, was conveyed to London post-haste, and ascended with alacrity the steps of that nobleman's palace. 4. The reader should be informed, that just at this time, no less a person than the king of Spain was expected hourly to depart; an event in which the minister of Great Britain was particularly concerned; and the Duke of Newcastle, on the very night that the proprietor of the decisive vote arrived at his door, had sat up anxiously expecting dispatches from Madrid. Wearied by official business and agitated spirits, he retired to rest, having previously given particular instructions to his porter not to go to bed, as he expected, every minute, a messenger with advices of the greatest importance, and desired he might be shown up stairs, the moment of his arrival. 5. His grace was sound asleep; and the *porter, settled for the night, in his arm-chair, had already commenced a *sonorous nap, when the vigorous arm of the Cornish voter roused him from his slumbers. To his first question, "Is the Duke at home?" the porter replied, "Yes, and in bed; but has left particular orders, that come when you will, you are to go up to him directly." "Bless him, for a worthy and honest gentleman," cried our applicant for the vacant post, smiling and nodding with approbation, at the prime. minister's kindness, "how punctual his grace is; I knew he would not deceive me; let me hear no more of lords and dukes not keeping their words; I verily believe they are as honest, and mean as well as any other folks." Having ascended the stairs as he was speaking, he was ushered into the Duke's bed-chamber. 6. "Is he dead?" exclaimed his grace, rubbing his eyes, and scarcely awakened from dreaming of the king of Spain, "Is he dead?" "Yes, my lord,” replied the eager expectant, delighted to find the election promise, with all its circumstances, so fresh in the nobleman's memory. "When did he die?" "The day before yesterday, exactly at half past one o'clock, after being confined three weeks to his bed, and taking a power of doctor's stuff; and I hope your grace will be as good as your word, and let my son-in-law succeed him." 7. The Duke, by this time perfectly awake, was staggered at the impossibility of receiving intelligence from Madrid in so short a space of time; and perplexed at the absurdity of a king's messenger applying for his son-in-law to succeed the king of Spain: "Is the man drunk, or mad? Where are your *dispatches!" exclaimed his grace, hastily drawing back his curtain; where, instead of a royal courier, his eager eye recognized at the bedside, the well-known countenance of his friend from Cornwall, making low bows, with hat in hand, and “hoping my lord would not forget the gracious promise he was so good as to make, in favor of his son-in-law, at the last election." 8. Vexed at so untimely a disturbance, and disappointed of news from Spain, the Duke frowned for a moment; but *chagrin soon gave way to mirth, at so singular and ridiculous a combination of circumstances, and yielding to the impulse, he sunk upon the bed in a violent fit of laughter, 'which was communicated in a moment to the attendants. 9. The relater of this little narrative, concludes, with observing, “Although the Duke of Newcastle could not place the relative of his old acquaintance on the throne of His Catholic Majesty, he advanced him to a post not less honorable, he made him an exciseman." CLXV.-LOCHIN VAR. 1. Он, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, |