All the while my bright brass basin
Ogling at his solemn face in !
He began a drowsy discourse
Recommending that and this course,
Which

my retort cut sharply short, For I was in no humour for't ! Abruptly turning on his heel,

delighted in their “trim gardens;” and John Kemble, in his rural retirement at Lausanne, was an ardent cultivator of flowers. In the boyhood of Uncle Timothy many a time, on a half-holiday, was he the welcome bearer of the Viola Amana, or Purple Heart’s-ease, as presents from his dearly-beloved preceptor (a floricultural enthusiast who commenced his delightful pursuit with a view to amuse a depressed mind and reinvigorate a sickly body) to Siddons at her sweet cottage on the Harrow road. Her great and constant call for this beautiful flower every spring, to keep the purple bordering of her garden complete and perfect, induced the gardeners in the neighbour. hood to give the name of “ Miss Heart's-ease” to her managing handmaid! Her garden was remarkable in an. other respect. It was a garden of Evergreens, which, together with a few deciduous shrubs, were of the most sombre, sable, and tragical cast, such as Box-trees, Fir, Privet, Phillyrea, rbor Vitæ, Holly, Cypress, the Red Cedar, Laurel, Irish Ivy, Bay-tree, Arbutus Daphne or Spurge-Laurel, Cneorum Tricoccum or the “ WidowWail,” the branches and flowers of which, according to Pliny, were carried by the Roman matrons in their funeral processions :

“. Purpureos spargam flores.”— Virgil. 9 Democritus, in order to calculate the nature of things, was continually looking on a bruss busin, by which practice he is said to have blinded himself.

He rang the city this quaint peal-
“Give the laughing devil his due-
The man's not mad, my friends, but You!" 10

-Tu Quoque! fits the cap? some few !
Tho' folly," flaunting up and down
This phantasmagorian town,12
Her antiquated coat has cast,
I, in the present, see the past ;

10

The world, the busy world! and I
Have never been first cousins—Why ?
Because in neither word nor deed
The World and I have once agreed.
I'm humble, and the World is proud;
It loves, what I detest, a crowd;
What it teaches men to prize,
Pomp and riches, I despise.
I, before a lucky dunce,
Or a braggart, beggar once !
Cannot, like a lacquey, stand,
Making congees, cap in hand !
Simple dress and simple diet
And a.cosey cup in quiet,
With a lip contempt has curld,
See, how laughs to scorn the World !
Let it laugh! I'm in the vein
At the World to laugh again-
One in scorn and one in glee,
Let's try which can merriest be!

Uncle Timothy.
II " A DESCRIPTION OF FOLLY.
Entring once into the seate of the braine, she obfus-
cateth the imagination, perverteth conceit, alienateth the

Than folly neither more, nor less,
But only in a different dress;
Time has made her naught the wiser,
As will find the fool that tries her!
Patriotism holding league 13
With ambition and intrigue-
WORLDLY HONESTY 14_whose check
Is the halter round his neck !

mind, corrupteth reason, and so disturbeth and hindreth a man, that he can neither read, deliuer, nor act any thing as he should doe : but on the contrarie, with turbulent conceptions, wavering and inconstant motions, broken sleepe, a sick braine, and an emptie soacked head, like a withred cucumber, he vainely like a blind mill horse, whirleth about a thousand fopperies, some no less lamen. table than ridiculous.”

12 << London ! the needy villain's general home,

The common sewer of Paris and of Rome.” In this picture we are forcibly reminded of Plutarch’s description of the outlaws and fugitives that flocked to the Temple dedicated to the Asylæan God by Romulus and Remus. Their liberal Majesties welcomed all that came, and refused to deliver up the debtor to hiş creditor, and the murderer to the magistrate! by which means the rising city of Rome was soon peopled.

13 “Few men rise to power in a state, without a union of great and mean qualities.”—Lord Bucon.

14 “Honesty the best policy.” — Antediluvian adage ! Honesty is a ragged virtue, turned out of doors to beg or starve! The march of progression (the "Rogue's March ?") has kicked away this old-fashioned stumbling-block. In the general scramble for money, who can find time or afford to be honest ? Talk of physical - malaria, of sul. phuretted and phosphuretted hydrogen (first cousin to the

15 WORLDLY WISDOM-craft and cunning,
All out-witting and out-running!
Friendship,16_not the glow-worm spark
That shines upon us in the dark,

cholera !) Think of moral malaria! Of stagnant cesspools and public ordure-pits! What pool or pit, with its putrescent residua, so anti-odoriferous as the reeking rascality of Capel Court ? Think of the pestilential virus of such an intramural deposit as a Rail-Road Jobber! Yet this moral plague what shall stay ? Religion ? when every man's God is Gold! Shume? when the brass candle. stick, (like the schoolmaster,) is abroad, and not expected home again! A“ Bourd of Health ? ” when all are alike infected!

Yet knaves, like shears, whose edges are so keen,
Will cut themselves, as we have often seen,

For want of HONESTY to put between.
In the singing days of Uncle Timothy this was his

DEMOCRITUSIAN CHANT.
I owe the World nothing - I'm not in it's debt-
Ne'er has the World been my creditor yet-
It's favor to me it has never unfurld,
Yet still in good humour am I with the World.
The World ne'er deceived me-with all its deceit;
The World never cheated me-tho' a great cheat !
I'd heard how its word it had twisted and twirl'd,
So never put I any trust in the World !
A sweet smiling face and a pair of bright eyes
I knew very well was the World in disguise;
And when I was offer'd a heart and a hand,
That joke call’d a “Friend” I could quite understand!
Did pity, kind soul! come with me to condole,
Impertinent pride I saw peep thro’ her stole !

а

But fair-weather's follower fervent,
Fawning flattery's fellow-servant !
Ingrate's 17 SMILE-like coffin-plate
Over rottenness in state !

Then came, apropos, to my mind Rochefoucault,
And how one man feels for another man's woe!
Contented and gay let me laugh life away,
With something to give, but with nothing to pay ;
And when the last smile has my dying lip curl'd
May I, sans a sigh, bid good b’ye to the World.
15 “ Keep up appearances, there lies the test,
The world will give thee credit for the rest.”

Churchill. 16 “ Give mee that Bird,” says Bishop Hall, “which will sing in winter, and seeke to my window in the hardest frost; there is no tryall of friendship but adversity.” And again—“Give mee that love, and friendship, which is betweene the vine, and the elme, whereby the elme is no whit worse, and the vine so much the better.” Alex. ander being asked where he would lay his treasure ? an. swered “ Apud Amicos.”

17 “But be not concerned,” writes the Archbishop of Dublin to Doctor Swift, “ingratitude is warranted by modern and ancient custom : and it is more honour for a man to have it asked, why he had not a suitable return to his merits, than why he was overpaid.”

Looking at the actors in this great Drama, (the glorious Revolution of 1688,) we have,-on the one hand a king, such as James's own acts have declared him,-on the other his nearest relatives,-sons-in-law professing towards him a devoted allegiance, daughters bound to him by every tie of filial gratitude;

(“Ingratitude! thou marble-hearted fiend,
More hideous, when thou showest thee in a child,
Than the sea-monster!")