to his imaginary creation? No one now strolls, idly dreaming with his eyes open, in the sunny evening, by some quiet stream, while the mingled murmurs of the city come blended into music, like many a voice of one delight, to aid his sweet delusion. No, there are no dreams now, nor waking thoughts for anything but business. Children of seven years old talk of their prospects in life. Speak to a boy about Fortunatus's purse he tells you-if he has heard anything of the story, read it he did not—that it is only to be found in the counting-house, and that his cap has been converted into a steam-boat. What boy of the present age ever heard of the Seven Champions of Christendom? Who sympathises with the sorrows of fair Sabrina, lingers in the dark woods that shroud the gloomy castle where some base enchanter keeps her in durance vile, and almost resolves to challenge to the utterance the giant guardian of the dreary fortress? Does any boy-I mean any little man of boyish years and appearance-in want of pocket money, ever think of catching a "cluricawn" in the fields, and compelling him to give up the purse, that never wants a sixpence? Come, my purse against the "cluricawn's," that you will not procure me one in a thousand of those aforesaid homunculi ever heard of "Puss in boots;" or in his fancy converted some pretty beggar girl into the fair Cindrella. Fancy! The word yet remains in our vocabularies, but has lost its original meaning. Where is "Beauty and the Beast?"-Where is "Peter Wilkins" with his amphibious nation? An attempt to reproduce the

who

olden impression of that story was made some time ago in Drury or Covent Garden (I forget which) but the clumsy motions of the Glums and Gauries-those I think are the names-were no more like the graceful, airy glidings of our boy-hood's Peter Wilkins than I to Hercules; and but for the inimitable drollery of that first-rate comedian Keely, the piece, notwithstanding the great expense at which it was brought out, would have been decidedly a failure! Get up a confession of boyish faith-I mean such a one as in my time would not have had a single dissenterand I am satisfied you will not procure an affirmative to any one article. The creed has lost its worshippers; beautiful and romantic as it was its era has passed away, its shrines are mouldering into ruins, its altars are overthrown, its memories are almost departed; yet it is sweet, though sad, to dwell amongst its dilapidated and decaying monuments, and conjure up the tender and touching associations that still fondly linger around them.

ELEGIAC STANZAS.

To

When I have reached that resting place To which each moment hastes me on, I care not who my path may trace,

Or what they say when I am gone, If thou-the star by whose soft light

I journeyed o'er life's stormy waveWil't cheer my latest longest night,

And shed thy influence o'er my grave.

Let those I neither shunn'd or sought
Bestow their meed of praise or blame;
I care not what the million thought,
If only thou wilt love my name;
I ask no other eye to weep,
I ask no other heart to sigh,
When I shall sleep the dreamless sleep
That wakes but to eternity.

SONG.

AIR-" There's nae luck about the house."

When friends are met, and goblets pour'd,

And gladness rules the soul,

There's pleasure in the festive board,
There's rapture in the bowl:
But, oh! how dull, how heartless all
Our joyance would appear,
E'en wine itself would turn to gall
If woman were not near.

Then, fill the highest, brightest cup
That sparkles here to-night;
No flinching now-come fill-fill up
To woman's eye of light.

Oh! twine us flowers, of rosy wreath,
To biud our flushing brows;

Rich as the sighs young maidens breathe,

And pure as virgins' vows:

Bring sweets, of dews and sunbeams wove

Ere evening's shadows fall,

Then, bring, oh! bring us woman's love

The crowning rose of all.

And fill the highest, brightest cup, &c.

I've seen ambition's bubbles burst,
E'en when they highest flew ;
I've seen the dreams gay fancy nurs❜t,
Dissolv'd like morning dew:
E'en firmest friendship will remove,

When fortune's smile has past,

But love-fond, faithful, woman's love

Will linger to the last.

Then, fill the highest, brightest cup, &c.

Send, send the hallowed goblet round,
Fill to the highest edge;

To woman's love the cup is crowned,
And who'd refuse the pledge?
The Egyptian Circe used to spice
With pearls the cup she'd kiss,
Our's has a pearl of richer price—
There's woman's love in this!

Then, fill the highest, brightest cup
That sparkles here to-night;
No flinching now-come fill-fill up
To woman's eye of light!

Nulli sedicit mulier mea nubere malle,

Quam mihi; von si se Jupiter ipse petat.

CATULLUS CARMEN, LXX.

My Lesbia vows no other love

Than I should ever taste her charms,

Though Jove should leave his heaven above
To find the heaven that's in her arms;

She says it but a woman's oath,
To him who loves, should ever
Upon the winged winds be wrote,
Or on the rapid river.