THE GLEANER'S PORTE-FOLIO;

CONSISTING OF INTERESTING ARTICLES FROM RECENT PUBLICATIONS, PUBLIC JOURNALS, &c. &c.

A ROMANTIC INCIDENT IN REAL LIFE.

prised to find all the arguments he could use wanted force to prevail on him to go. He declared that he would rather live upon his small annuity all his days, than marry a woman he did not previously love, though she possessed the wealth of the Indies.— When the time drew near for the Quaker to go again into Yorkshire, he applied to a relation of the young gentleman, with whom he lived, and shewed him several letters from the lady's father, requesting him to bring his friend along with him. By the importunity of this relation, and the Quaker's intreaty, the youth was at length prevailed on to accompany him; but under a feigned name, and only as an acquaintance whom he had met by accident on the road. Matters being thus settled, he set out with the Quaker, and was introduced to the old gentleman and his daughter.They were all three so well pleased with each other, that they soon became better acquainted, and the young gentleman discovered who he was: the marriage was quickly concluded, and his wife brought

A GENTLEMAN in Suffolk had an estate of two thousand pounds a-year; and an only son, who was brought up with the expectation of being heir to that fortune after his father's death. This took place when he was just four-and-twenty: but, when he came to look into his inheritance, he found the whole property so involved, that he had only left four hundred pounds a-year, which proved to be in church lands. He lived on this for about twelve months, but, during that time, was very melancholy. He then declared to his friends, that it was against his conscience to enjoy the revenue of what had belonged to the church, and that he could make himself easy in no other way but by restoring the lands; which he did, in spite of the persuasion of all his relations to the contrary, and left himself with no more than an annuity of fifty pounds. In the neighbourhood there was a Quaker, who always went once, and sometimes twice, a-year into Yorkshire, on business. At one house in that country he was received upon a foot-him eighteen hundred pounds a-year, being of great intimacy by an old gentleman, who had an only daughter, that was to be his heiress, elegant in her person, of good || temper, and well accomplished Quaker one day asked him why he did not get this young lady married? The gentleman replied, that it was what he wished to do, but he was determined never to dispose of her but to a man whose principles he approved, and who would come and settle upon the estate. If he could find such a person, he would give his daughter to him, though he was not worth a shilling. The Quaker related to him the history of his neighbour: and the old gentleman was so much delighted with his character, that he desired the Quaker to bring him to his house the next time he came; and, if the young people liked each other, it should be a match. The honest Quaker returned home, and, with great pleasure, told the young gentleman the prospect of this good fortune; but was sur

The

sides a considerable sum of money.-Correspondence between Lady Hartford and Lady Pomfret.

REMARKS ON FEMALE POLITICIANS.

OH! for the good old times! when females were satisfied with feminine employments, with cultivating their minds so far as to enable them to instruct their children in useful learning only, and to regulate their families with judicious economy; to learn those graces and that demeanor, which obtained and secured love and esteem, nor suffered the Laban images of foreign vanities to contaminate their tents. Daughters of England, be not beguiled; be assured that the study of politics is not essential to female accomplishments, that the possession of this machiavelian knowledge will neither make you better mothers, wives, or friends; that to obtain it, a long life, severe study, and the most laborious investigation, are indispensably ne

cessary. Must it not excite the strongested himself a willing captive to the charms

emotions of contempt, to hear pert Misses, just escaped from boarding schools, haraugue in a more peremptory language|| than Selden would have assumed, and with the slightest reading, and most superficial knowledge, presume to pass judgement on the political rights and conditions of nations!-Beloe's Sexagenarian.

AFFECTING STORY OF HENRY.

of a lovely and accomplished woman, of the same age, and similar propensities with himself, and with respect to whom, there was but one thing wanted to secure a union between them, as much of happiness as can be the lot of humanity. The attachment was supposed to be reciprocal; this is, to appearance, implied by the following fragment, written, as it should seem, on revision of some verses composed by the

"The time was once when oft the long day through,

HENRY'S father was a clergyman, dis-lady in question charging humbly and meritoriously his professional duties in a country village.— He discerned early marks of superior talents in his son, and placed him under a distinguished master, whose instructions have produced many eminent men, and accomplished scholars.

"Far, far too busy for my present peace,
"O'er these, the pensive fablings of your muse,
"I hung enamour'd, whilst, with anxious glance,
"The kindred feelings of my youthful years,
"In visionary view, full glad I found,
"And blissful dreams, familiar to my heart,
"O'er which sweet Hope her gilding pall had
flung.

"Such, oh! such scenes, with Myra to have
shared,

"Was all my fruitless prayers e'er asked of Fate.

*

*

The youth's health was always delicate, which gave him a propensity to retirement, to books, and particularly to poetry. There was a characteristic taste, delicacy, and feeling, in his earliest productions, which will, at this distant period, stand the test of the severest criticism. Under the instructor above alluded to, he became a very good, if not a very profound scholar; and he went to the University with the greatest ardour for literary pursuits, still retaining his early prepossessions in favour of poetry. beautiful to require any apology for in

The bias which he took towards ancient English poetry, and the perseverance and zeal with which he pursued and culti vated a knowledge of the earliest English poets, probably arose from his introduction to Thomas Wharton, whose History of English Poetry, and other productions in illustration of our ancient bards, were his great and constant favourites. With the feelings which this kind of reading inspired, aided by the delicate frame of his constitution, and the natural sensibility of his temper, he, at this period, wrote some beautiful pieces of poetry, which he was induced to print. They were soon disposed of, and were for a long time enumerated among the scarce tracts of our language, but they have since been reprinted.

"Mischance stood by, and watched, and at an bour

"When least I thought her near, with hasty hand "All my fair pictur'd hopes at once defaced."

The lines which follow, are much too

sertion :

"The traveller, thus, when low'ring skies im

pend,

"In sorrowing silence leaning on his staff,
"From some ascent his weary steps have gained,
"Breathless looks back, and, pausing, wonders
well

"The lengthen'd landscape past: now hid, he
finds,

"Mid far off mists, and thick surrounding showers,

"Each city, wandering stream, and wildering
wood,

"Where late, in joy secure, he journied blythe,
"Nor met the phantom of a single fear,
"Where every cloud, illumined by the sun,
"Hung lovely, and each zephyr fragranee
breathed."

The obstacle, however, could not be removed, and it was deemed expedient and It was not at all likely that such exqui- prudential that the connection should be site susceptibility of mind and temper as dissolved. It was so, but our friend never characterized our friend, should be a long got the better of the shock which his sentime without fixing on one individual ob- sibility sustained. He absented himself ject to share his tenderness and sympathy. from his friends, and when he again appearThis accordingly happened; he surrendered among them he introduced a wife; but

such a wife!-no more like her by whom
he had been rejected, than he himself to
Hercules. Who she was, where he found
her, why he married her, are matters
which, if known at all, can only be so to
a very few. But the vessel was too much
shaken, and battered, and crazy, to weather
many of the gales of life. There was deadly
and corrosive poison lurking within. It
was deemed adviseable that he should try
the air of Lisbon. He prepared to do so,
and, in his progress thither, before he em-
barked, he visited him who now pays this
tribute to his memory. But oh! how al-
tered! He was also alone; he who want-
ed, he who merited every care, every at-
tention of the tenderest sympathy, had,
when approaching to the last stage of pul-
monary decay, no friend, no companion,
no kindness to soothe his sufferings, or
cheer him on his way. Shame! shame!
shame! She, whose duty, if not affection, ||
should have prompted her to undertake
the benevolent office, remained behind;
and, if not foully slandered, went to the
theatre with a paramour, within an hour
after parting with her husband, with every
probability of seeing him no more. She

married this same fellow afterwards; but both are dead, and may God forgive them.

But as we were saying, he proceeded to Lisbon, where he would have died a victim to the want of proper attention aud attendance, but that the incidental recommendation of a friend procured for him hospitality of no ordinary kind or extent. All was, however, unavailing, and he returned without benefit. He did not survive a great while afterwards, but, to the last, retained his native sweetness of temper, unruffled by sufferings, and his elegauce of taste and powers of intellect, unclouded and undiminished. Peace to his ashes. A purer spirit has not heaven. He died at the early age of twenty-four; yet, in that short interval, he directed the na tional taste to the investigation of natural and simple beauties, which had long lurked unnoticed and unknown, in the productions of our earlier bards; and, had he lived, would, beyond all doubt, have pursued the course of his studious propensities, and have brought to maturity somewhat of still greater importance to the literature of his country. From the same.

THE FLUTE-PLAYER.-A HINT TO THE DISCONTENTED.

"Endure the hardships of your present state,
"Live and reserve yourselves for better fate."-DRYDEN.

WHEN the mind has become enervated by melancholy, discontent and murmuring will too often add to the bitterness of our regrets. We then impiously arraign the goodness of the deity, and are apt to suppose, that the thunderbolt is levelled only at our head, and that we, of all our fellow beings, are only destined to feel his wrath. We then repine at our lot; we throw ourselves on the couch of lassitude, and, bewailing our peculiar fate, we refuse to listen to the voice of the charmer, charm he ever so wisely; we refuse to listen to the voice of comfort, to which we are as the deaf adder that stoppeth her ears.

In vain are the exhortations of friendship, we hear them not; in vain is the cup of inebriation poured out, the soul of sensibility shrinks from a wish of that forget

fulness which is to be purchased at the expence of reason; but when we discover that there are partners in our misery, or one more wretched than ourselves, we appear more resigned to our fate.

It was on one of those nights, when a beautiful serene moon makes a walk even more pleasant than on a hot sunny day, when, prevented from a further excursion from my lodgings, I strolled into Soho-square. Although in so public a place, surrounded by a thousand lamps, nearly, however, obscured by the power of the chaste empress of night, I viewed her pale face only. I endeavoured to recall those days, which can never return, when, far distant from this scene, arm locked in arm, I had strolled with Ellen by its beamy light, and when we were parted, enjoyed the old and ridi

culous idea, except to lovers, of regarding, as the player paced on, became less dis at one and the same time, the same object tinct. At the end of the hymn again rewith those we love. It was all the plea-peated, I left the garden to discover from sure I had when absent from her, and I whence the sounds came, and I was not sighed when I felt that pleasure was no long before my curiosity became gratified : longer mine. the object appeared before me. It was a Retrospection brought Ellen to my sight, tall elderly man, bending over his flute, when she died in my arms. It was this with apparent pious intent; his garb was evening, just seven years ago. Yes, I re- threadbare, but clean; from his wrist was membered how often, when parental love suspended a stick, while his venerable has called me from her I held so dear, have grey hairs, partly restrained by an old hat, the last moments, when I paused to throw blew round his head, and gave him the myself upon my bed, been retarded, in appearance of an ancient Druid. He viewing that orb which Ellen promised, at finished a little serious ad libitum air: that hour, to regard also. I heeded not threw up his eyes to heaven, and the the passing objects, till I came to a crowd moon left a face on which grief and resigwho had surrounded a ballad-singer. I nation were evidently striving for mastery. was diverted somewhat from my melan- I waited till a solitary passenger passed on; choly, for it became too dangerous to in- he had vented a sarcasm on the kind of dulge in; remembrance had called up such music my friend had chosen. I felt for the scenes that I dared not trust myself longer old man, and presented myself before him. with. But how the loud laugh disgusted "Do you never play merrier notes, my me, when I knew it was stimulated by a friend?"-" No Sir," was his answer.fictitious joy, for it proceeded from a group “Surely," added 1, "you meet with but of females, whose feelings could little ac- few to reward you for reminding us of cord with their outward semblance of that period which we all strive so earnestly mirth. I pulled out my key, and entered to forget?"-" Your observation is just, the garden of the square; the gate clanged Sir," continued he; "but God is good, and mournfully upon the ear; I threw myself an old man like me wants but little. I upon a seat, and was soon lost in vacuity. cannot remain much longer here, and when It was one of those evenings when autumn I die, what satisfaction will it be to me to appears lingering sadly loth behind, the find myself richer at the expence of my leaves had begun to fall, and the current, conscience? There is a time for all things, ever and anon, drove them down the narand I now leave, for younger players, those row walks. The air was cool, but not, to notes which are more congenial to their me, disagreeably so; and I was quickly season. A man must be a fool, Sir, who, lulled into a sweet and holy melancholy; on going a long journey, does not provide dangerous, perhaps, yet such as I would himself accordingly."—" By your convernot have lost for all the glare of the ball-sation," said I, "you must have lived a room. At length the sound of a flute better life?"- Say rather, young man, a broke upon mine ear; it was not played richer."-" Then your resignation to your masterly, but the tones were very sweet; fate is more worthy of-"-" Stop, my and what is more correct, perhaps, they friend," he exclaimed, warmly; "your conharmonized with my feelings. The air the versation is like your age, inexperienced. musician had chosen, was that set to Ad- Recollect this lot is forced upon me.dison's beautiful and sublime pastoral evenOnce I repined at it, now I regard it as a ing hymn; and never did it more delight blessing. I am weaned from the world; I me, and as he played the da capo move- am now, I hope, worthier heaven. It ment, I could not forbear aspirating has cost me much, but this gained serenity "Thy friendly crook shall give me aid, is much more than I deserve. Had I "And guide me through the dreadful shade," known, when young, what I had to suffer, The player paused, the laughter-loving I should have said, my troubles are more crew had all retired from the square; the than 1 can bear; but the heart does not notes of the instrument were again heard, break so soon. Providence is good, and pensive and slow; they came again, and, when he chastises, gives also a healthy

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SUBSTITUTES FOR YOUTHFUL ATTRACTIONS, AND HINTS FOR MATERNAL INSTRUCTION.

The second dance was nearly She travelled incog. with only her wait- concluded when an elderly gentleman, acing-maid, a postillion, and a groom, on companied by a delicate looking young whose secresy she could rely; and to makeman, came in, and took chairs behind Me