-

necticut, to Miss Ann Williams Watson; and Mr. Augustus Wood, to Miss Sarah Watson, daughters of Captain John Watson, of Columbia county, Georgia. The ceremony was conducted under the most engaging forms of decency, and was ministered with sober eloquence and impressive dignity. The subsequent hilarity was rendered doubly entertaining by the most pleasing urbanity and decorum of the guests; the convivial board exhibited an elegant profusion of all that the fancy could mingle, or the most splendid liberality could collect; nor did the nuptial evening afford a banquet less grateful to the intellectual sensethe mind was regaled with all that is capti vating in coloquial fruition, and transported with all that is divine in the music of congenial spirits :

While hov'ring seraphs linger'd near,

And dropped their HARPS, SO charm'd to hear! A CHRISTMAS STORY. An old beggar woman found her way last Christmas into a worthy 'Squire's house in Westmorland, to ask

alins. She was desired to sit down in a room, into which the butler soon entered; who, beginning to question the poor woman, was asked by her, in her turn, what pleas he held? He answered, "I am the butler;" upon which she remarked, "Thou'll hev a good pleas, I'll The warrant thee, thou leaks sa weel." coachman and groom soon followed, and, after Some parley, were asked what pleases they hed? On being told, she remarked, "You hev good pleases, I uphod ye, ye're sa fat." At last of all the 'Squire appeared, who said, “Good woman, how do you find yourself this Christmas?" "Marry, I knaw net," replied the beggar, "its varra cald, but, pray thee, whae pleas does thou hod?" The worthy 'Squire smiled; upon which the garrulous old woman exclaimed, "Thou'll hev warst pleas i'th house, I'll lay ought on't, for thou's thinnest i'th set.' The Squire enjoyed the joke, ordered the beggar to be regaled to her heart's content, and sent her away with her basket full of provisions.

A GOOD OLD CUSTOM.-It was a custom in Carlow, about a century ago, when any married lady domineered over her husband, to summon all the lower orders to a meeting, when they went in procession to the house of the hen-pecked mate, and one, who was mounted on an ass, repeated aloud the following words, in the strong, though rude style, and metrical composition of the times:I ride, I ride,

To pull down pride-
In A. B.'s wife,

Who's the plague of his life,
Then huzza for the Dame,
And establish her fame!

After which a grand shout was set up, accompanied by the blowing of cows' horns, the rattling of frying-pans, gridirons, &c. which generally produced reform in the lady.

PRONUNCIATION.-The Athens of the North boasts a certain learned gallant, and musical advocate, known amongst the ladies by the odd appellation of the Pony, originating from the circumstance of his frequently excusing himself from gratifying his fair admirers with a display of his vocal powers, by telling them that he is a little horse (hoarse.)

Satire.

THE DANDEIAN AGE OF BRITAIN. Ye blooming Exquisites, forgive my wrong, For you Pieria's maidens breathed the song! The dreams of Southcott, Towzer's mystic calls, Britannia's conquest, nor her wooden walls, Delight us more!-Ye virgin Nine inspire My grey-goose pinion with satiric fire! My voice, in spite of Folly's trumpet, chimes A strep'rous discord 'gainst these piping times.

Of yore, the ancients term'd their years of bliss The Golden Age, an Age of Buckram this?

And Pride extends it in each starchy joint,
From Berwick-border to the Lizard-Point:-
Dandeian Age!-Our ancestors have wheel'd
In cumb'rous mail o'er Cressy's conqu❜ring field,
From gripe of iron Battle, arm'd to tear
Those with'ring laurels which their sons should

wear;

But lo! the tap'ring youth of latter days,
More wisely doff the breast-plate for the stays,
And tramped on earth, the now degraded steel,
For flight's congenial effort arms each heel
Uncouth reverse, since Fashion's slaves began
To sink the Nation, aud degrade the Man;
Whate'er deformities uncouthly jut,
They're symmetry beneath the Bond-street cut,
And shapes unmanly may be patch'd by halves,
With padded breasts and artificial calves.

Come, then, my pen, lash, lash with honest rage, What mosts disgusts on Fashion's tinsell'd stage, When arrogating Grandeur sweeps the scene, Obscurely glaring, eminently mean,

Bid her Fortune's madd'ning draught disgorge, When Foppery's dapper sons, prefusely smart, Sworn fools by Nature, would be fools by Art; With all their maudlin mumm'ry paint, my pen, These living libels on the mould of men!

Some largely mouth, while some more weakly whine

The sick soul's sounds, and accents feminine,
As though 'twere comely that the speech should
fall,

In tones betwixt the snuffle and the drawl.
Ye breathing portraits of a true facon,

Now custom squints, now blindness is the ton,
Affliction's wretched privilege you steal,
And spectacles look mournfully genteel;

So thrive the farce!-for, bounteous of her boon
Prolific Folly moulds the true buffoon.

What rising glories shall our sons presage,
From these great efforts of a little age!

Ye sage Parnassian bards, who weave that plume
Whách virtue wears unwith'ring in the tomb,
Our modern Dandies' deathless feats declare,
Nor longer prate of what their fathers were.
What though in some sequestered, lowly shed,

{A SURVEY OF WESTMINSTER-HALL

ON THE FIRST DAY OF TERM.

AS holes where thieves have lurk'd all day
Vomit at night, upon the lay,

Their darkness-loving race:
So now each inn about the town

Let out in tribes with whig and gown-
To haunt this gothic place.

What lengths of sable sweep along!
What groves of curls-and what a throng
Of little dangling tails!

It is no wonder such a sight
Should oft put justice in a fright—

And make her drop her scales.
"Tis said from Paradise when hurl'd,
That Satan visited this world;

And to begin our woes,

He sow'd a hellish seed call'd strife,
Which vegitated into life-

When up a Lawyer rose!

He lodged him in a spacious place;
That it might wear a holy face,
He called the spot "The Temple;"
And, rather than a wolf for sign,
Placed on the door a Lamb divine-

As of his trade a sample.

When thus sat up, he thought a wife
Would much assist his rise in life;

And soon he found a prize-
A Mistress Falsehood, who before
Had a large host of children bore-
Call'd by the vulgar-Lies.
These he adopted, brought up all;
And I am told, within this Hall,

They first were put to school;-
He taught them quibbling as they grew;
And from their dam, a woman true,
They learned to overrule.

They cheated, prospered, and increas'd;
Nor has their population ceas'd,
As you may here descry,

And, as the issue has not fail'd,
I fear the curse will be entail'd

On all posterity!

But still to them some praise is due; With filial duty they pursue

The origin of evil,

And labour still with hand and tongue, To prove the cion whence they sprung Was planted by the devil!

Scraps.

COVENT GARDEN THEATRE, "To Covent-Garden Theatre," said Dr. Hoare to the servant who put up the step of the hackney-coach into which he followed Edward. They were set down in Bow street, where

a crowd of people were already assembled waiting for the opening of the doors. "Will you venture in this crowd?" sai Edward.

"Will I?" replied the doctor, buttoning up his coat, and preparing for a squeeze: "Wi 1" repeated he, with a species of enthusiasm "Zounds, man! I have stood at the doors o the theatre three hours, for the sake of seeing a new play, before now; and have elbowed my way as well as the stoutest among them! Come you have only to stand close, and take care to keep your arms down, and your elbows a little to the right and the left of you: and mind, when the doors open, don't go near the wall, but keep in the middle of the stream.'

In a few minutes, the doors were opened: and the ears of Edward were assailed with the following outcries :-"Stand back! Stand back! Take care of your pockets! Don't squeeze so, Sir! you'll kill this lady! she's fainted! O Lord! my arm's broke! Sir, you are no gentleman to shove so! Ma'am, this gentleman pushes me!"

At length, however, they entered the theatre, where all these alarming exclamations were exchanged into smiling faces; with the exception of two or three country lasses, who bewailed the demolition of their finery, having ignorantly attired themselves in box dresses to scramble into the pit.

The eyes of Edward had now ample employ ment: they were first directed by his ears to the high regions assigned to that part of the atdience called the "gods," namely, the galleries, where a loud confusion of voices, of all tones, and in all keys, accompanied by cat-calls and whistles, were calling out" Jones, where are you? Wilson, Jerry, Jem! Here! Come up! Where's Sal? Here-come down!" Doxies were screaming for their sweethearts, and 'prentices roaring for the companions of their toils and pleasures.

“What an uproar they make there!" said Edward.

"Oh it's quite shocking! said the fat wife of a tallow-chandler from Bishopsgate-street, who had been treated to the play by a winemerchant's clerk, who lodged in her first floor; "It's quite a nuisance to respectable people, as comes to hear a play. I thinks it would be a good thing if there vas n't no galleries at all!"

"Pon my vard, ma'rm," said her cisisbeo, "that's vat I calls a good highdeer. Such low people might go to Hashley's, and such has that there, you know."

Sonnets.

TO THE DAWN.

Sweet hour of peace! celestial dawn! to thee
A weeping eye, an anguish'd heart I bring,
For vain art all the blooming hours of spring,
Aided by thy bright tinted beam to me.

There is a woe that bids all comfort flee,
A grief that will not hear the name of joy,
That shuts out even Hope's divine alloy;
Such is my woe, and such it still must be.
Yet lovely dawn, thy hour of silent peace,
To mental suff" ring must be ever dear;
Though 'twill not bid the sigh, the tear drop cease,
Though 'twill not give repose to ev'ry fear;
Yet grief unseen by man, may vent its plaint,
And deem thy hour a type of Heav'n, tho' faint.

WINTER.

This is the eldest of the seasons: he

Moves not, like Spring, with gradual step, nor grows

From bud to beauty, but with all his snows
Comes down at once in hoar antiquity.
No rains nor loud proclaiming tempests flee
Before him; nor unto his time belong

The suns of Summer, nor the charms of Song,
That with May's gentle smiles so well agree;
But he, made perfect in his birth-day cloud,
Starts into sudden life with scarce a sound,
And with a gentle footstep prints the ground,
As tho' to cheat men's ears; yet, while he
stays,

He seems, as 'twere, to prompt our merriest

days,

And bid the dance and joke be long and loud.

Tales.

CRICKET.

A WORD spoken at random has often proved of more utility than the best concerted plans: hence it happens, that fools often prosper when men of talents fail.

As an illustration of this assertion, I shall present my perusers with a tale, which, a little while ago, I read in a French periodical work, called Forfeits Redeemed, and which I have rather imitated than translated.

A poor simple peasant, of the name of Cricket, being heartily tired of his daily fare of brown bread and cheese, resolved, whatever might be the consequence, to procure to himself, by hook or by crook, even at the expence of a broken head, three sumptuous meals. Having taken this courageous and noble resolution, the next thing was to devise a plan to put it into execution; and here his good fortune befriended him. The wife of a rich Nabob, in the neighbourhood of his cottage, had, during the absence of her husband, lost a valuable diamond ring; she offered great rewards to any person who could recover it, or give any tidings of the jewel. But no one was likely to do either; for three of her own footmen, of whose fidelity she had not the smallest doubt, had stolen it. The loss soon reached our glutton's ears—“ I'll go," cries he; "I'll say I am a conjurer, and that I will discover where the gem is hidden,

on condition of first receiving three splendid meals. I shall fail 'tis true. What then? I shall be treated as an imposter; my back and sides may suffer for it; but my hungry stomach will be filled!"

To concert his scheme and put it into practice was but the work of a moment: the Nabob still was absent. The lady, anxious for the recovery of her ring, accepted the offered terms: a sumptuous dinner was prepared; the table was covered with rich viands; expensive wines, of evrey sort, were placed upon the sideboard. Good heavens! how he ate. An attentive footman, one of the secret thieves, filled him to drink; our conjurer, gorged, exclaimed, “Tis well! I have the first!" The servant trembled at the ambiguous words, and ran to his companions-" He has found us out, dear friends," he cried; he is a cunning man; he said he had the first; what could he mean but me?"--"It looks a little like it," replied the secoud thief; "Ill wait on him to night: as yet you may have mistaken his meaning-should he speak in the same strain, we must decamp." At night, a supper fit for a court of aldermen was set before the greedy Cricket, who filled his paunch till he could eat no more. The second footman watched him all the while. When satisfied, he rose, exclaiming, “The second's in my sack, and cannot escape me.' Away flew the affrighted robber-"We are lost" he cried; "onr heels alone can save us.""Not so" answered the third;" "If we fly and are caught, we swing; I'll tend him at to morrow's meal, and should he then speak as before, I'll own the theft to him, and offer some great reward to screen us from punishment, and that he may deliver the jewel to the lady without betraying us.' They all agreed. On the morrow, our peasant's appetite was still the same; at last, quite full, he exclaimed," My task is done!" the third, thank God, is here!' -"Yes," said, the trembling culprit, "here's the ring; but hide our shaine, and you shall never want good fare again."-"Be silent!" exclaimed the astonished Cricket, who little thought that what he had spoken of his meals could have made the plunderers betray themselves; "Be silent! I have it all."-Some geese were feeding before the windows; he went out, and having seized the largest, forced the ring down his gullet; then declared that the large goose had swallowed the jewel. The goose was killed-the diamond found. In the mean time the Nabob returned, and was ineredulous.-"Some crafty knave, Madam," said he, "either the thief himself, or his abetter, has, with a well-concerted scheme, wrought on your easy faith. But I'll soon try his powers of divination. I'll provide him with a meal likewise." No sooner said than done: between two dishes the mysterious fare was hidden; the false conjurer was told to declare what was the concealed cheer, on pain of being well beaten, should he fail." Alas!" he muttered out,

APPELLATION SWEET CREATURE. THE use of this fashionable expression is principally confined by the ladies to that species of mankind who are possessed of good legs, a tolerable face, and little understanding; fellows who grow like excrescences upon the face of creation, and whose ideas,if they have any, are entirely confined to the contemplation of their own personal accomplishments, and the seduction of innocence and virtue. As a great number of our fine gentlemen put in their claim for the title of a Sweet Creature, it may not be unnecessry to mention some particular marks by which they are to be distinguished from the sensible part of mankind.

A sweet Creature is a constant attendant upon the ignorant part of the ladies, and always closely connected with a dancing master.

A sweet Creature wears an eternal simper on his countenance, and is always the readiest to laugh at his own joke.

A sweet Creature talks very loud, swears very much, and thinks very little.

A sweet Creature generally behaves rude to a lady in public, stares in the face of everywoman he meets, and though possessed of a good pair of eyes, always makes use of a glass.

A sweet Creature is courageous enough to draw his sword upon a chairman, and good natured enough to take a slap in the face from any person on an equality with himself.

A sweet Creature frequently appears in the green boxes with the ladies of easy virtue; and is perfectly acquainted with the orange

testable marks of a sweet Creature, I shall beg, leave to conclude this essay with one remark, which I principally intend for the benefit of my fair readers, who may be teazed with his folly, or offended by his impertinence; and who. from never entertaining an improper thought themselves, are seldomi suspicious of the de signs of any body else.

A man who can be amused with trifles has generally no great understanding; and the weakness of those intellects which renders him delighted with folly, naturally exposes him to the allurements of vicc: incapable of judging between an error and a crime, he is seldom honourable, and never honest. A stranger to the proper means of promoting his own happiness, he is not fit to be trusted with that of another; and being by inclination vicious, habit makes him despicable, till, as Shakspeare finely says,

'Th' affections of his mind are dark as night And dull as Erebus.'

And concludes with this admirable admonition, Let no so such man be trusted.'

FIRST LOVE;

OR, MARIA'S MONUMENT.

An Elegiac Tale. Addressed to Mothers.
BY MR. HARRISON.

Oh! spare, maternal softness, spare,
For pity's sake, the tender mind;
Nor plant a germ of error there,
Round Reason's noble growth to wind!
Th' flaunting lovely of the eye,

And sweet the woodbine's honied breath,
As climb its tendrils smooth on high,

The sapling it entwines with death. From many a fair-one's faded cheek,

The roseate tints of health depart;! Drain'd by some nourish'd maxim weak, That murders, yet adorns, the heart. Had poor Maria ne'er been taught,

The heart no second love must know; Her's had not sunk, with mis'ry fraught, Her mother's droop'd with lasting woe. Companion of her earliest years, With partial eye young Charles she viewed: He perfect in her sight appears;

None seem so pleasing, none so good.

Shap'd was the maid in beauty's mould,
Sense beam'd in her expressive eye;
Each Virtue did her breast enfold,

Her look was chaste simplicity.
She like the faithful virgin race,

In Indian's wilds that fearless rove; Might say, she saw no other face,

Than his who own'd her bosom's love.

*The Indian women of America, who scarcely ever prove faithless to their husbands, have a remarkable phrase, which they address to any person who makes love to them