If

hundred years? No, sir; we cannot justly suppose such a thing. The language of the old Canaanites could not be a different one from the Hebrew. you will look into Bochart,* you will find this was his opinion. That great man says, the ante-Babel language escaped the confusion two ways, viz., by the Canaanites, through God's providence preserving it in their colonies for the future use of the Hebrews, who were to possess the land; and by the patriarch Heber, as a sacred depositum for the use of his posterity, and of Abraham in particular.

*The great Samuel Bochart, born at Rouen, in 1599, was the minister of the reformed church in the town of Caen, in Normandy. His principal works are his Phaleg and Canaan; works that show an amazing erudition, and ought to be well read by every gentleman; you should likewise have his Hierozoïcon, or History of Animals mentioned in the Sacred Books. good supplement to his Scripture Geography. mons and dissertations are also very valuable. Bochart died suddenly in the Academy at Caen, on Monday, 16th May, 1667, in the sixty-eighth year of his age. Brieux wrote the following fine epitaph on him :

It is a

His ser

Scilicet hæc cuique est data sors æquissima, talis

Ut sit mors, qualis vita peracta fuit.

Musarum in gremio teneris qui vixit ab annis.

Musarum in gremio debuit ille mori.

This being the case: the Phoenician or Canaanitish tongue, being the same language that the line of Heber spoke, with this only difference, that by the latter it was retained in greater purity, being in the mouths of a few, and transmitted by instruction; it follows, that Abraham and his sons could talk with all these tribes and communities; and as to the other nations he had communication with, he might easily converse with them, as he was a Syrian by birth, and to be sure could talk the Aramitish dialect as well as Laban his brother. The Aramitish was the customary language of the line of Shem. It was their vulgar tongue. The language of the old world, that was spoken immediately before the confusion, was called Hebrew from Heber, which they reserved for sacred uses."

Here Miss NOEL ended, and my amazement was so great, and my passion had risen so high for such uncommon female intelligence, that I could not help snatching this beauty to my arms, and without thinking of what I did, impressed on her balmy lips half a dozen kisses. This was wrong, and gave very great offence, but she was too good to be implacable, and on my begging her pardon, and protesting it was not a wilful rudeness, but the magic of her glorious eyes, and the bright powers of her mind, that had

transported me beside myself, she was reconciled, and asked me, if I would play a game at cards? "With delight," I replied, and immediately a pack was brought in. We sat down to cribbage, and had played a few games, when by accident Miss NOEL saw the head of my german flute, which I always brought out with me in my walks, and carried in a long pocket within-side my coat. "You play, Sir, I suppose, on that instrument," this lady said, "and as of all sorts of music this pleases me most, I request you will oblige me with any thing you please.” In a moment, I answered, and taking from my pocketbook the following lines, I reached them to her, and told her I had the day before set them to one of Lully's airs, and instantly began to breathe the softest harmony I could make

A SONG.

ALMIGHTY love's resistless rage,
No force can quell, no art assuage :
While wit and beauty both conspire,
To kindle in my breast the fire:

The matchless shape, the charming grace,
The easy air, and blooming face,
Each charm that does in Flavia shine,

To keep my captive heart combine.

I feel, I feel the raging fire!

And my soul burns with fierce desire!
Thy freedom, Reason, I disown,

And beauty's pleasing chains put on;
No art can set the captive free,
Who scorns his offer'd liberty;
Nor is confinement any pain,
To him who hugs his pleasing chain.

Bright Venus! Offspring of the sea!
Thy sovereign dictates I obey;
Submissive own thy mighty reign,
And feel thy power in every vein :
I feel thy influence all-confest,
I feel thee triumph in my breast!
'Tis there is fix'd thy sacred court,
"Tis there thy Cupids gaily sport.

Come, my Boy, the altar place,
Add the blooming garland's grace;
Gently pour the sacred wine,
Hear me, Venus! Power divine!

Grant the only boon I crave,

Hear me, Venus! Hear thy slave!

Bless my fond soul with beauty's charms,

And give me Flavia to my arms.*

As this song is a short imitation of the nineteenth Ode of the first book of Horace, it is worth your while,

Just as I was finishing this piece of music, old Mr. Noel came into the parlour, in his wonted good

Reader, to see how the Rev. P. Francis has done the whole. I will here set down a few lines:

"Urit me Glyceræ nitor

Splendentis pario marmore purius :
Urit grata protervitas,

Et vultus nimium lubricus aspici."

Which lines are imitated in the first verse of the above song, and a part of the second; and the ingenious Mr. Francis renders them in the following manner

"Again for Glycera I burn,

And all my long forgotten flames return.

As Parian marble pure and bright,

The shining maid my bosom warms;

Her face too dazzling for the sight,

Her sweet coqueting-how it charms!"

The following:

"In me tota ruens Venus

Cyprum deseruit-"

of which the third verse of the song is an imitation, Mr. Francis translates thus:

"Whole Venus rushing through my veins,

No longer in her favourite Cyprus reigns."