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The Mariner's Dream.

IN slumbers of midnight, the sailor-boy lay;
His hammock swung loose at the sport of the wind;
But watch-worn and weary, his cares flew away,

And visions of happiness danc'd o'er his mind.
He dreamt of his home, of his dear native bow'rs,
And pleasure that waited on life's merry morn,
While Mem'ry stood sideways, half cover'd with flow-


And restor❜d ev'ry rose, but secreted its thorn.. Then Fancy her magical pinions spread wide, And bade the dreamer in ectasy riseyoung Now far, far behind him the green waters glide, And the cot of his forefathers blesses his eyes. The jessamine chambers in flow'r o'er the thatch, And the swallow sings sweet from her nest in the


All trembling with transport, he raises the latch,
And the voices of lov'd ones reply to his call.
A father bends o'er him with looks of delight,

His cheek is impearl'd with a mother's warm tear, And the lips of the boy in a love kiss unite

With the lips of the maid whom his bosom holds dear.

The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast,

Joy quickens his pulse-all hardships seem o'er, And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest"Oh God! thou hast bless'd me- -I ask for no more." Ah! whence is that flame, which now bursts on his eye?

Ah! what is that sound which now 'larums his ear? 'Tis the ligtnings red glare, painting hell on the sky! 'Tis the crashing of thunders, the groan of the sphere! He springs from his hammock-he flies to the deck, Amazement confronts him with images dire-.

Wild winds and waves drive the vessel a wreck-
The masts fly in splinters-the shrouds are on fire!
Like mountains the billows tremendously swell—
In vain the lost wretch calls on Mary to save ;
Unseen hands of spirits are ringing his knell,
And the Death-Angel flaps his broad wing o'er the

Oh! sailor-boy, woe to thy dream of delight!

In darkness dissolves the gay frost work of bliss— Where now is the picture that fancy touch'd bright, Thy parents' fond pressure, and loves honey'd kiss?. Oh! sailor-boy! sailor-boy! never again

Shall home, love or kindred, thy wishes repay; Unbless'd and unhonour'd, down deep in the main, Full many a score fathom, thy frame shall decay. No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee,

Or redeem form or frame from the merciless surge; But the white foam of waves shall thy winding sheet be,

And winds, in the midnight of winter, thy dirge. On beds of green sea flow'r thy limbs shall be laid; Around thy white bones the red coral shall grow ; Of thy fair yellow locks threads of amber be made, And ev'ry part suit to thy mansion below. Days, months, years and ages, shall circle away, And still the vast waters above thee shall rollEarth loses thy pattern forever and aye

Oh! sailor-boy! sailor-boy! peace to thy soul

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THE player's profession,

Lies not in trick, or attitude, or start,
Nature's true knowledge is the only art,
The strong felt passion bolts into his face,
The mind untouch'd, what is it but grimace!
To this one standard, make your just appeal,
Here lies the golden secret, learn to Feel;
Or focl, or monarch, happy or distress'd,
No actor pleases that is not possess'd.

A single look more marks the internal woe,
Than all the windings of the lengthening oh!
Up to the face the quick sensation flies,
And darts its meaning from the speaking eyes;
Love, transport, madness, anger, scorn, despair,
And all the passions, all the soul is there.



A Proposal of Marriage.

Hardcastle. BLESSINGS on my pretty innocence! Drest out as usual, my Kate. Goodness! what a quantity of superfluous silk hast thou got about thee, girl! I could never teach the fools of this age, that the indigent world could be clothed out of the trimmings of the vain.

Miss Hardcastle. You know our agreement, Sir. You allow me the morning to receive and pay visits, and to dress in my own manner, and in the evening, I put on my house-wife's dress to please you.

Hard. Well, remember I insist on the terms of our agreement; and, by the bye, I believe I shall have occasion to try your obedience this very evening.

Miss Hard. I protest, Sir, I don't comprehend your meaning.

Hard. Then, to be plain with you, Kate, I expect the young gentleman I have chosen to be your husband from town this very day. I have his father's letter, in which he informs me his son is set out, and that he intends to follow himself shortly after.

Miss Hard. Indeed! I wish I had known something of this before. Dear me, how shall I behave? It's a thousand to one I shan't like him; our meeting will be so formal, and so like a thing of business, that I shall find no room for friendship or esteem.

Hard. Depend upon it, child, I'll never controul your choice, but Mr. Marlow, whom I have pitched upon, is the son of my old friend, Sir Charles Marlow, of whom you have heard me talk so often. The young gentleman has been bred a scholar, and is designed for an employment in the service of his country. I am told he's a man of an excellent understan ding.

Miss Hard. Is he?

Hard. Very generous.

Miss Hard. I believe I shall like him.

Hard. Young and brave.

Miss Hard. I'm sure I shall like him.

Hard. And

very handsome.

Miss Hard. My dear papa, say no more [kissing his hand.] he's mine, I'll have him.

Hard. And, to crown all, Kate, he's one of the most bashful and reserved young fellows in all the world.

Miss Hard. Eh! you have frozen me to death again. That word reserved, has undone all the rest

of his accomplishments. A reserved lover, it is said, always makes a suspicious husband.

Hard. On the contrary, modesty seldom resides in a breast that is not enriched with nobler virtues. It was the very feature in his character that first struck me.

Miss Hard. He must have more striking features to catch me, I promise you. However, if he be so young, so handsome, and so every thing, as you mention, I believe he'll do still. I think I'll have him.

Hard. Ay, Kate, but there is still an obstacle. It's more than an even wager he may not have you.

Miss Hard. My dear papa, why will you mortify one so ?-Well, if he refuses, instead of breaking my heart at his indifference, I'll only break my glass for its flattery; and set my cap to some newer fashion, and look out for some less difficult admirer.

Hard. Bravely resolved! In the mean time, I'll go prepare the servants for his reception; as we seldom see company, they want as much training as a company of recruits, the first day's muster.[Exit Hardcastle.

Miss Hard. This news of papa's puts me all in a flutter. Young, handsome; these he put last; but I put them foremost. Sensible, good-natured; I like all that. But then reserved and sheepish, that's much against him. Yet can't he be cured of his timidity, by being taught to be proud of his wife? Yes, and can't I-But I vow I'm disposing of the husband before I have secured the lover.


Carey's Lecture on Mimicry.


Patent. WALK in, Sir; your servant, Sir, your servant-have you any particular business with me?

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