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And turned away from thee, my son,
And left but be the rest unsaid,
The name untouched, the tear unshed -
My wish is known, and I have done :
Now proraise, grant this one request,
This dying prayer, and be thou blest!"
Then Francis answered ferveutly,
“ If God so wilt, the

saine shall be." The promise was scarcely given, when the officers appeared, and old Norton and his eight sons were led forth to execution, The scene is described with considerable effect. Before them went a soldier bearing the banner in question; as soon as Francis perceived it, he went up, and, with a look of calm command, took it from him, and immediately departed, making his way through the crowd with the banner in his hand.

In the sixth Canto we return to Francis'; who, having quitted the doleful çity' at the moment when his father and brothers were about to breathe their last, travelled on for many miles, un. conscious of every thing except the sad scene which he had quitted; suddenly he was recalled to himself by the sight of the banner, and by the recollection of the imprudent promise which he had made to his father, After a strong internal conflict, he resolves come weal or woe,' to fulfil it, and however much he disapproved of the cause in which the banner had been raised, to place it nevertheless upon the shrine as a sad relic of those who were now no more. With this determination he journeyed on, and was already within the sight of the Town of Bolton, when he was overtaken by a party of horse under the command of Sir George Bowes.—No other proof of his treason seemed necessary than that which he bore in his hand ; accordingly, orders are given to secure his person: Francis resists; he is slain, the banner taken from his grasp, and the body left on the ground where it lay.'

Previously to the commencement of the seventh and last Canto, the story makes a pause. In the interval, despoil and desolation visit Rylstone's fair domain, and Emily, having wan. dered long and far,' at length, resuming fortitude, returns once more to her native wilds of Craven.'

And 80--beneath a mouldered tree,
A self-surviving leafless oak,
By, unregarded age from stroke
of ravage savedate Emily....

(Ta be concluded in our next Number.)

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THE NARRATOR, No. III.

ON MEANNESS AND LIBERALITY.

“ Be not to this or that extremo inclin'd,
The middle way is the best you'll ever find."

HORACE. As darkness is a state opposite to light, so is meanness to Hiberality; if the mean man attempts to excuse his actions, it is with the blush of awkwardness, because 'Truth and Justice cannot furnish him with one solid argument for bis defence.

Meanness never loseth sight of itself, and should it chance to stray one moment beyond its own advantage, like an elastic spring, it reverts to its natural position.

There is nothing to be found emblematical of meanness in the four elements, it has neither the chearing quality of the air, nor the productive powers of the earth, it never communicates the warmth of fire, nor the thirst correcting charm of water. It is in itself monotonous, yet there is nothing a mean man dislikes to be charged with so much as a defect so solitary.

The mean man is the being most unprofitable, for, though he runs not into debt with others, be consumes no commodity by which his neighbour is to profit, of course he is but an incumberance, whose place of existence might be better filled or supplied by the less mercenary.

Meanness receives all the good and all the kindness you have to communicate with a smile, and returns nothing but by constraints if you reprove this conduct the mean man'a answer is generally

" Popls make feasts and wise raen partake of them;" repaying his benefactor with insolence and ingratitude.

The man of meanness cares not into whose dish he may dip, w he can do it gratuitously: if offered to hiin he would accept a rasher of bacon from a poor foot soldier, or the bread and butter from the morning school-boy; and yet the mean man has been sometimes too cunning for himself; Elves, the miser, to defraud the turnpike of a penny, rode his horse out of the way a full mile to leap a low hedge, but in the attempt broke the leg of a gelding that could not be purchased for afty pounds, which was in the true sense of the saying

Peany wise and pound foolish."

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The mean man, as well as he is unprofitable, may bp reckoned dishonest, for society being metaphorically a vast chain, of which every man is a link to strengthen, but receive ing its protection without communicating his assistance, he corrodes the chain more than he adds to the concatination, thereby he is logically unprofitable and dishonest, and politically deserves correction.

Give the mean man a purse of gold be will put it from the sight of all but himself for ever, in his hand it ceases to cire culate ; and it might as well be returned to the mine from whence it was first drawn. To subscribe to this man's necesa sities would be ļike the clouds shedding their precious drops upon a hill of sand, nothing good can arise from his influence tiĩl death puts an end to his meanness, and only then the gems can be released from their filthy casket. This black spirit of meanness one would rationally think could never find repose but in the stall af an kuxter, but this is a mistakc, and exa amples prove it to be found in higher company,

The great Lord High Chancellor, Bacon, possessed it in the most elevated degree, for among other acts of despicable meanness, he consented to the taking from a suitor one dozen of silver coat buttons to decide a cause before him in favour of the applicant, for which this

“ Greatest! wisest! and meanest of mankind,”. as Mr. Pope properly designates him, was tried by his peers, found-guilty, degraded, and cast into the Tower; and so humbled was he at last, that he who had filled the highest office in the state, who had been, for consequence, next the sovereign prince, was hurled from his pinnacle to hide in an obscure lodging in Gray's Inn; and often, from necessity, obliged to solicit his neighbour, Sir Fulk Greyille, Lord Brook, for a bottle of small beer, even which, for his detested meanness, he was at length denied. To exhibit this passion in its best light it is unfriendly to society, and beneath the dignity of human nature, we will, therefore, turn to a more dignified subject,

The Beauties of Liberality.

"I will spare from that I have,” said the great Alfred, when he divided his loaf with the pilgrim, he who sent me this can give more.” In a picture, sweetly painted by Guido, and now in his Majesty's collection, this divine principle of liberality is most gracefully delineated; the goddess, with an

air of affability, is represented presenting her dish of jewels for depressed modesty to partake and be comforted.

I could enumerate many acts emanating from this blessed propensity, and all of them to do honour to our species, but one, which comes within my own personal knowledge, shall, for this time, suffice, and with that I will conclude this desul. tory paper.

When the late Reverend Mr. William Churchill was presented with the living of Orton on the Hill, in Leicestera shire, the farmers on the day of his induction, invited him to their Inn, where a public dinner had been provided, after the tables were cleared, and the bottles of liberality began to sparkle before the guests, they did not fail to complain beavily of the mercenary conduct of their late incumbent, they told my friend that he who last enjoyed the benefice took his tythes in kind, and that he gave them a good deal of unne cessary trouble, and that he was so mean and uncharitable, as to take the decimal egg from the poor cottager. After these expostulations, the farmers requested to know how their new pastor would be pleased to take his tythes, whether by kind or modus. What has been the amount of the living, farmers, (enquired the new parson,) upon an average three hundred and fifty pounds a year, (was the reply); I will submit to a modus, rejoined my friend, and as I mean to give no trouble, assure me of the three hundred by quarterly payments, and I throw you back the fifty, to distribute among those from whom your late incumbent exacted the decimal egg. If the farmers were delighted at this act of liberality, how much more were they so to find at parting, that the dinner they had ordered and all the appendages, had been paid for, by the generous Churchill.

I narrate this fact to the credit of a worthy man, whose interest in life had been neglected to a late bour, and whose private sufferings bad not only taught him to pity, but to felieve to the best of his ability the wants of his fellow men.

Mr. William Churchill was tho younger brother of three : John was the elder, well known in public life for his activity during the election for the City of Westminster. Charles the Poet was the second brother; William was a good scholar and a gentleman, but his modesty had been too long à bar to preferment, until his good uncle Dr. Smallwood, Bishop of Oxford, who knew his worth, presented bim with the first living that fell to his gift.

I must here narrate an anecdote of this good Doctor, as an example to the illiberal, and as it is almost unparalleled in the history of church preferments.

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On Dr. Smallwood's receiving intimation that the King in. tended to remove him from the humble See of St. Asaph, to that of Oxford, the Bishop obtained an audience of his Majesty, when Dr. Smallwood requested the King would be pleased to bestow his munificence on some person more worthy than himself, that his sovereign had been already most bountiful to him, and that he was fully contented with his station; when the King to his immortal honour made this reply: I know you to be so Doctor Smallwood, and for that reason I make you the Bishop of Oxford.

How much it is to be lamented that such acts of liberality do not more abound ? the liberal are always met with a blessing and a smile, while the mean man if not shunned with contempt, is generally avoided with pity, and he can never live beloved, or received as a gentleman in polished society.

T. N. s.

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The number of individuals from England who seem to think a visit to Paris as essential as the Mahometans deem a journey to Mecca, have at last awakened the muse of indignation, and produced a poem under the title of England and Paris. It is written in blank verse, in very harmonious cadences, and generally with much strength of thought. The opinions, indeed, are not always quite philosophical, or just; but they are all vory patriotic; and the attempt to prove that England alone supplies all that is or can be necessary to promote the happiness of man, will not be considered criminal in England. The effect of such an opinion on the rustic mind is much beta ter described than vindicated.

Oh! I have mark'd,
When at some rural feast a travelled wight
Has spoke of other lands, or dared to tell
Of customs not his own, how blackening clouds
Of proud contempt would gather round the brow
Of native swains. Or if, perchance, anawed
By first portent, he venturous pledged the glass
To foreign chief, or look'd a traitorous wish
For change domestic, then would flush the eye,
The tongue would rell its thunders, and the stort

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