But the boy

part with, as soon as he saw me. held them fast, and I shall teach him nothing but to play at taw. Many ladies have come to me, with their daughters in their hands, telling me they hope their girls, under me, will learn prudence; but the young ladies have as constantly desired me to teach prudence to their grandmothers, whom it would better become, and to bring them new dances and new fashions. In short, I have scarcely seen any one, with whom I am likely entirely to agree, but a stout old farmer, who rents a small cottage on the green. He was leaning on his spade when I approached him. As his neighbor told him I was coming, he welcomed me with a cheerful countenance; but, at the same time, bluntly told me, he had not expected me so soon, being too busy to pay much attention to my approach. I asked him, if I could do any thing for him. He said, he did not believe me better or worse than those who had preceded me, and, therefore, should not expect much from me; that he was happy before he saw me, and should be very well contented after I left him he was glad to see me, however, and only begged I would not take his wife from him, a thin, withered old woman, who was eating a mess of milk at the door. "And I shall be glad, too," said he, " if you will fill my cellar with potatoes. As he applied himself to his spade, while he said these words, I shall certainly grant his request.

I shall now tell that great you, and extensive as my power is, I shall possess it but a short time.

However the predictions of astrologers are now laughed at, nothing is more certain, than what I am going to tell you. A scheme of my nativity has been cast by the most eminent astronomers, who have found, on consulting the stars, and the aspect of the heavenly bodies, that Capricornus* will be fatal to me. I know that all the physicians in the world cannot protract my life beyond that fatal period. I do not tell you this to excite your sensibility, for I would have you meet me without fondness, and part with me without regret,—but to quicken you to lay hold on those advantages I am able to procure you; for it will be your own fault, if you are not both wiser and better for my company. I have, likewise, another request to make to you, that you will write my epitaph. I may make you happy, but it depends on you to make me famous. If, after I am departed, you can say my reign was distinguished by good actions and wise conversations, and that I have left you happier than I found you, I shall not have lived in vain. My sincere wishes are, that you may long outlive me, but always remember me with pleasure. I am, if you use me well,

Your friend and servant,

THE NEW YEAR.

*The Goat, one of the signs of the Zodiac; the sign for

December. J. W. I.

VERSES,

WRITTEN IN THE LEAVES OF AN IVORY POCKETBOOK, PRESENTED TO MASTER T*****

ACCEPT, my dear, this toy; and let me say
The leaves an emblem of your mind display ;-
Your youthful mind, uncolored, fair and white,
Like crystal leaves, transparent to the sight,
Fit each impression to receive, whate'er
The pencil of instruction traces there.
O! then, transcribe into the shining page,
Each virtue, that adorns your tender age,
And grave, upon the tablet of your heart,
Each lofty science, and each useful art.
But, with the likeness, mark the difference well,
Nor think complete, the hasty parallel ;
The leaves, by Folly scrawled, or foul with stains,
A drop of water clears with little pains;
But, from a blotted mind, the smallest trace,
Not seas of bitter tears can e'er efface;
The spreading mark forever shall remain,
And rolling years but deepen every stain.
Once more, a difference let me still explain ;-
The vacant leaves forever will remain,

Till some officious hand the tablet fill

With sense or nonsense, prose or rhyme, at will. Not so your mind, without your forming care, Nature forbids an idle vacuum there :

Folly will plant the tares, without your toil,
And weeds spring up in the neglected soil.
But why to you this moralizing strain?
Vain is the precept and the caution vain,
To you, whose opening virtues bloom so fair,
And will reward the prudent planter's care;
As some young tree, by generous juices fed,
Above its fellows lifts its branching head,
Whose proud, aspiring shoots incessant rise,
And every day grows nearer to the skies.
Yet, should kind Heaven your opening mind adorn,
And bless your noon of knowledge, as your morn;
Yet, were your mind with every science blest,
And every virtue glowing in your breast,
With learning, meekness, and, with candor, zeal,
Clear to discern, and generous to feel,

Yet, should the Graces* o'er your breast diffuse
The softer influence of the polished muse,

'Tis no original, the world can tell, And all your praise is but to copy well.

ON THE BIRTH OF A FRIEND'S ELDEST

SON.

WELCOME, little helpless stranger ;
Welcome to the light of day;
Smile upon thy happy mother,
Smile, and chase her pains away.

* See note on page 202. — J. W. I.

Lift thine eyes, and look around thee;
Various Nature courts thy sight,
Spreads for thee her flowery carpet;
Earth was made for thy delight.

Welcome to a mother's bosom ;
Welcome to a father's arms;
Heir to all thy father's virtues,
Heir to all thy mother's charms.

Joy thou bring'st, but mixed with trouble;
Anxious joys, and tender fears,
Pleasing hopes, and mingled sorrows,
Smiles of transport, dashed with tears.

Who can say, what lies before thee,
Calm or tempest, peace or strife;
With what turns of various fortune
Fate shall mark thy checkered life.

Who can tell, what eager passions
In this little heart shall beat,
When ambition, love, or glory,
Shall invade this peaceful seat.

Who can tell, how wide the branches
Of this tender plant may spread,
While beneath its ample shadow
Swains may rest, and flocks be fed.

Angels guard thee, lovely blossom,
And avert each hovering ill!
Crown thy parents' largest wishes,
And their fondest hopes fulfil.