IGNORANT CRITICISM.— Sterne.

"And how did Garrick speak the soliloquy last night?"-" Oh, against all rule, my Lord; most ungrammatically! Betwixt the substantive and the adjective, which should agree together in number, case, and gender, he made a breach thus- stopping as if the point wanted settling; and after the nominative case, which your Lordship knows | should govern the verb, he suspended his voice in the epilogue, a dozen times,- three seconds and three-fifths, by a stop-watch, my Lord, each time.- Admirable grammarian!”

But in suspending his voice was the sense suspended likewise? Did no expression of attitude or countenance fill up the chasm? Was the eye silent? Did you narrowly look?”—• I looked only at the stop-watch, my Lord."—"Excellent observer!". Oh, of all the cants which are canted in this canting world,though the cant of hypocrisy may be the worst,-the cant of criticism is the most tormenting!—I would go fifty miles ... on foot, to kiss the hand of that man whose generous heart will give up the reins of his imagination into his author's hands, be pleased he knows not why, and cares not wherefore.

INCREDULOUS HORROR.-Mrs. Norton.
Thou dost but jest.-thou could'st not tell it me
So calmly, were it true; thy lip would quiver,
Thine eye would shrink, thy hand would tremble,
Thy voice would falter forth the horrid words
Even as a tale of blood is ever told;

Thy brow... but ah! that grave and gloomy smile
Sends chill poison creeping through my veins!
And yet it is not true! He dead! Oh no!
Young, proud, brave, beautiful; but yesternoon
The chief of thousands, who would all have given
Their life's-blood, drop by drop, for love of him.-
He could not die! Who told me he was dead!
Oh! horrible dreams are maddening my poor brain . . .
Hark! there are voices ringing through the air.—
They call thee... murderer! Thou answerest not!
'Tis true!-And now that rivulet of blood

Which flows between us, parts our souls for ever!

INDIFFERENCE.-Literary Treasury.

There was in our town a certain Tom Ne'er-do-well-an honest fellow, who was brought to ruin by... too readily crediting that care will kill a cat. Poor fellow! he never considered that he was not a cat; and, accordingly, he made it a point not to care for anything. He did not care for his father's displeasure — and he was disinherited. He did not care for money · and he was always distressed. He did not care for other people's feelings and he was severely winged in a duel. He did not care for a notice to trespassers- and he walked into a man-trap. He did

not care for his wife - and she ran away from him. He did not care for his health -- and he became bedridden. He didn't care for any body-and everybody left him to his sorrows. And lastly, he didn't care... for himself and he died in a workhouse.

INDIGNANT CONTRAST.-Burns.

See yonder poor o'erlaboured wight,
So abject, mean, and vile,
Who begs a brother of the earth
To give him leave to toil;
And see his lordly fellow-worm
The poor petition spurn-
Unmindful though a weeping wife
And helpless offspring mourn.
If I'm designed yon lordling's slave.
By Nature's law designed-
Why was an independent wish
E'er planted in my mind.

If not, why am I subject to
His cruelty, or scorn?

Or why has man the will, and power
To make his fellow mourn?

INDIGNATION.-Moore.

To think that man, thou just and gentle God!
Should stand before thee, with a tyrant's rod,
O'er creatures like himself, with souls from thee,
Yet dare to boast of perfect liberty!

Away, away I'd rather hold my neck,

By doubtful tenure from a Sultan's beck,

In climes where liberty has scarce been named.
Nor any right but that of ruling claimed,

Than thus to live, where bastard freedom waves
Her fustian flag in mockery... over slaves!

JEALOUSY.-Shakespeare.

Think'st thou, I'd make a life of jealousy.

To follow still the changes of the moon

With fresh suspicions? No: to be once in doubt,
Is... once to be resolv’d. ☎ Exchange me for a goat
When I shall turn the business of my soul

To such exsufflicate and blown surmises,

Matching thy inference. 'Tis not to make me jealous,
To say.

my wife is fair-feeds well-loves company ·
Is free of speech -sings- plays - and dances well.
Where virtue is, these are more virtuous!—
Nor, from mine own weak merits, will I draw

The smallest fear, or doubt of her revolt

For, she had eyes and chose me. No Iago ;

I'll see, before I doubt; when I doubt... prove:
And, on the proof, there is no more but this,—
Away at once with love, or..
...jealousy.

JOY.-Shakespeare.

O! my soul's joy!

If after every tempest come such calms,

May the winds blow... till they have wakened death!
And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas

Olympus high, and duck again as low

As hell's from heaven! If it were now to die,
'Twere now to be most happy; for I fear

My soul hath her content so absolute,
That not another comfort like to this
Succeeds in unknown fate.

JUSTIFICATION.-Shakespeare.

Romans, Countrymen, and Lovers! Hear me. for my cause; and be silent that you may hear. Believe me, for mine honour: and have respect to mine honour, that you may believe. Censure me in your wisdom; and awake your senses, that you may the better judge. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Cæsar's. to him I say. that Brutus' love to Cæsar was no less than his. If. then, that friend demand, why Brutus rose against Cæsar, this is my answer;-not that I loved Cæsar less. but that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Cæsar were living, and die all slaves. than that Cæsar were dead, to live all freemen?- As Cæsar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate. I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour him; but... as he was ambitious. I slew him! There are tears for his love, joy for his fortune. honour for his valour, and death for his ambition!-Who's here so base, that would be a bondman? if any, speak! for him have I offended. Who's here so rude, that would not be a Roman? if any, speak! for him have I offended. Who's here so vile, that will not love his country? if any, speak! for him have I offended. -I pause for a reply. None? then none have I offended!

LAUGHTER.

Shakespeare.

A fool! a fool!-I met a fool i' th' forest...

A motley fool;— a miserable varlet!—

As I do live by food, I met a fool

Who laid him down, and bask'd him in the sun,

And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms

In good set terms.— and yet a motley fool;

66

"Good morrow, fool," quoth I; No, sir." quoth he.

"Call me not fool, till heav'n hath sent me fortune!"
And then he drew a dial from his poke,

And looking on it with lack-lustre eye,

Says very wisely..." It is... ten o'clock!"—

Thus may we see," quoth he, "how the world wags;

"Tis but an hour ago since it was nine.

And after one hour more 'twill be eleven !—

And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe,

And then from hour to hour we rot and rot...
And... thereby hangs a tale." When I did hear
The motley fool thus moral on the time,
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,

That fools should be so deep contemplative :-
And I did laugh, sans intermission,
An hour... by his dial. O noble fool!
A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear.

A curious child who dwelt upon a tract
Of inland ground, applying to his ear
The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell;
To which in silence hushed his very soul
Listened intently; and his countenance soon
Brightened with joy; for murmurings from within
Were heard-sonorous cadences! whereby.
To his belief, the monitor expressed
Mysterious union with its native sea.
-Even such a shell the universe itself

Is to the ear of Faith.

LISTENING TO DISTANT MUSIC.-——— Republic of Letters.
What strain is this that comes upon the sky
Of moonlight, as if yonder gleaming cloud
Which seems to wander to the melody.

Were seraph-freighted! Now it dies away
In a most far-off tremble and is still;

Leaving a charmed silence on each hill

Hark

Flower-covered, and the grove's minutest spray.
one more dip of fingers in the wires!
One scarce-heard murmur... . struggling into sound,
And fading like a sunbeam, from the ground,

Or gilded vanes of dimly visioned spires!

But it hath tuned my spirit, which will recal
Its magic tones, in memory treasured all.

LOWLINESS OF MIND.-H. K. White.
O! I would walk

A weary journey, to the farthest verge
Of the big world, to kiss that good man's hand,
Who, in the blaze of wisdom and of art,
Preserves a lowly mind; and to his God,—
Feeling the sense of his own littleness,-
Is as a child in meek simplicity!

What is the pomp of learning? the parade

Of letters, and of tongues? Even as the mists
Of the grey morn before the rising sun,

That pass away and perish.- Earthly things
Are but the transient pageants of an hour;
And earthly pride is like the passing flower,
That springs... to fall, and blossoms but to die.

MALICIOUS. REVENGE.- Shakespeare.

There I have another bad match: a bankrupt, a prodigal, who dare scarce show his head on the Rialto;- a beggar, that used to come so smug upon the mart;- let him look to his bond! he was wont to call me... usurer; let him look to his bond! he was wont to lend money for a... Christian courtesy ;let him look to his bond! He hath disgrac'd me, and hinder'd me of half a million; laugh'd at my losses,-mock'd at my gains.— scorn'd my nation,- thwarted my bargains.- cool d my friends. -- heated mine enemies; And what's his reason? I... am... a Few: Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands? organs, dimensions. senses, affections, passions? fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases. heal'd by the same means, warm'd and cool'd by the same winter and summer. as a... Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed! if you tickle us. do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge! If we are like you in the rest. we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his...humility?— Revenge. If... a Christian... wrong. ... a Jew, what should his... sufferance be, by.. Christian example? Why, revenge. The villany you teach me, I will execute and it shall go hard, but I will better the instruc

tion.

MATERNAL LOVE.-A. Bethune.

Unlike all other earthly things,—

Which ever shift and ever change,-
The love which a fond Mother brings
Nought earthly can estrange.

All that by mortal may be done

A mother ventures for her son.

If marked by worth and merit high,

Her bosom beats with ecstacy;

And though he own nor worth nor charm.
To him her faithful heart is warm.
Though wayward passions round him close,
And fame and fortune prove his foes;
Through every change of good and ill
Unchanged.... a mother loves him still.
And when those kindred cords are broken
Which twine around the heart;-

When friends their farewell word have spoken,
And to the grave depart :-