THE OLD SEXTON.

Nigh to a grave that was newly made,
Lean'd a sexton old on his earth-worn spade;
His work was done, and he paused to wait
The funeral train through the open gate.
A relic of by-gone days was he,

And his locks were white as the foamy sea;
And these words came from his lips so thin-
"I gather them in! I gather them in !
"Gather, gather, gather-I gather them in !

"Many are with me, but still I'm alone; "I'm king of the dead, and I make my throne "On a monument slab, of marble cold, "And my sceptre of rule is the spade I hold. "Come they from cottage, or come they from hall,' "Mankind are my subjects-all, all, all ; "Let them troll in pleasure, or toilfully spin, "I gather them in-I gather them in!

"I gather them in--for man and boy,
"Year after year of grief and joy,
"I've built the houses that lie around,
"In every nook of the burial-ground.
"Mother and daughter, father and son,
"Come to my solitude, one by one.
"But come they strangers, or come they kin,
"I gather them in, gather them in !'

"I gather them in, and their final rest
"Is here, down here, in the earth's dark breast."
And the sexton ceased, for the funeral train
Wound mutely o'er that solemn plain,
And I said to myself, " When Time is old,
"A mightier voice than this sexton old
"Will sound o'er the last trump's dreadful din,
"I gather them in-I gather them in!"

LODGINGS FOR SINGLE GENTLEMEN.

Who has c'er been in London, that over-grown place,
Has scen "Lodgings to Let" stare him full in the face.
Some are good, and let dearly; while some, 'tis well known
Are so dear and so bad they are best let alone.

Will Waddle, whose temper was studious and lonely,
Hired lodgings that took single gentlemen only;
But Will was so fat, he appear'd like a tun,
Or like two single gentlemen roll'd into one.
He enterd his rooms, and to bed he retreated;
But all the night long he felt fever'd and heated;
And though heavy to weigh as a score of fat sheep,
He was not by any means heavy to sleep.

Next night 'twas the same-and the next-and the next!
He perspired like un ox; he felt nervous and vext.
Week pass'd after week, till, by weekly succession,
His weakly condition was past all expression.

In six months his acquaintance began much to doubt him;

For his skin," like a lady's loose gown," hung about He sent for a doctor, and cried like a ninny, [him: "I have lost many pounds: make me well-there's guinea."

The doctor look'd wise-" A slow fever," he said;
Prescribed sudorifics, and going to bed;

"Sudorifics in bed," exclaimed Will," are humbugs!
"I've enough of them there, without paying for drugs!
Will kick'd out the doctor; but when ill indeed,
E'en dismissing the doctor don't always succeed:
So, calling his host, he said, Sir, do you know
"I'm the fat single gentleman six months ago ?"

"Look'e, landlord, I think," argued Will with a grin, "That with honest intentions you first took me in; "But from the first night-and to say it i'm bold"I've been so d-d hot, that I'm sure I've caught cold."

Quoth the landlord, " Till now I ne'er had a dispute "I've let lodgings ten years; I'm a baker to boot. "In airing your sheets, sir, my wife is no sloven; "And your bed is immediately-over my oven."

"The oven!" says Will. Says the host, "Why this passion?

"In that excellent bed died three people of fashion. "Why so crusty, good sir ?"-" Zounds!" cried Will, in a taking,

"Who wouldn't be crusty with half a year's baking?"

Will paid for his rooms: cried the host with a sneer, "Well, I see you've been going away this half year." "Friend, we can't well agree; yet no quarrel," Will said,

"For one man may perish where another makes bread."

GUERILLA CHORUS.
TUNE-Yager Song in "Amille."
The sun is ascending,

Its bright rays are blending
With night's shadows wending
Downward their way.

Our hope's star is beaming,
Our keen swords are gleaming;
The moon's light is streaming

Far o'er the vale.

The deep bell is sounding;
Brave hearts are bounding;
Our leader surrounding,
Vengeance we swear!
"Death to the stranger!
"Welcome the danger!
Each mountain ranger
Echoes the cry.
Rise, death preparing;
Rise, vengeance bearing,
One peril sharing,
Brethren, arise!

HAMLET'S INSTRUCTION TO THE PLAYERS.

Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue. But if you mouth it, as many of our players do, I had as lieve the town crier spoke my lines. And do not saw the air too much with your hand-thus ; but use all gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, whirlwind of your passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness. Oh! it offends me to the soul, to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings; who (for the most part) are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb show and noise: I could have such a fellow whipped for o'erdoing termagant; it out-herods Herod. Pray you, avoid it.

Be not too tame neither, but let your own discretion be your tutor. Suit the action to the word, the word to the action, with this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature; for any thing so overdone is from the purpose of playing; whose end, both at first and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to Nature; to show Virtue her own feature, Scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the Time his form and pressure. Now this overdone, or come tardy of, though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve; the censure of one of which must in your allowance o'erweigh a whole theatre of others. Oh! there be players that I have seen play, and heard others praise, and that highly, (not to speak it profanely) that neither have the accent of Christian, nor the gait of Christian, Pagan, nor man, have so strutted and bellowed, that I have thought some of Nature's journeymen had made them, and not made them well--they imitated humanity so abominably.

And let those that play your clowns speak no more than is set down for them for there be of them that will themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh too; though, in the meantime, some necessary question of the play be then to be considered-that's villainous, and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it.

THE SPIRIT OF CONTRADICTION.

THE very silliest things in life
Create the most material strife;
What scarce will suffer a debate
Will oft produce the bitterest hate.
"It is!" you say; I say," "Tis not."
Thus each alike with passion glows;
And words come first, and then come blows.

"Friend Jenkins had an income clear,
Some fifty pounds or more a year,
And rented, on the farming plan,
Lands at much greater sum per ann.;
A man of consequence, no doubt,
'Mongst all his neighbours round about.
He was of frank and open mind,
Too honest to be much refined;
Would smoke his pipe, and tell his tale,
Sing a good song, and drink his ale.
His wife was of another mould;
Her age was neither young nor old;
Her features strong, but somewhat plain;
Her air not bad, but rather vain ;
Her temper neither new nor strange,
A woman's rather apt to change;
What she most hated was conviction,
What she most loved was contradiction.
A charming housewife ne'ertheless!
Tell me a thing she could not dress-
Soups, hashes, pickles, puddings, pies—
Nought came amiss, she was so wise:
For, born and bred ten miles from town,
She brought a world of breeding down,
And Cumberland had seldom seen
A farmer's wife with such a mien.
She could not bear the sound of Dame;
No-Mistress Jenkins was her name.
She could harangue with wondrous grace
On gowns and mobs, and caps and lace;