Pleasant it was to view the sea-gulls strive
Against the storm, or in the ocean dive,

With eager scream, or when they dropping gave
Their closing wings to sail upon the wave:
Then as the winds and waters raged around,
And breaking billows mix'd their deafening sound,
They on the rolling deep securely hung,
And calmly rode the restless waves among.
Nor pleased it less around me to behold,
Far up the beach, the yeasty sea-foam roll'd;
Or from the shore upborne, to see on high,
Its frothy flakes in wild confusion fly:
While the salt spray that clashing billows form,
Gave to the taste a feeling of the storm.

But now thy walk,-this soft autumnal gloom Bids no delay at night I will resume

My subject, showing, not how I improved

In my strange school, but what the things I loved, My first-born friendships, ties by forms uncheck'd, And all that boys acquire whom men neglect.

RUTH *

SOUTH in the port, and eastward in the street,
Rose a small dwelling, my beloved retreat,

Where lived a pair, then old; the sons had fled
The home they fill'd: a part of them were dead;
Married a part; while some at sea remain'd,
And stillness in the seaman's mansion reign'd;
Lord of some petty craft, by night and day,
The man had fish'd each fathom of the bay.

My friend the matron woo'd me, quickly won,
To fill the station of an absent son;

She grieved to say her parents could neglect
Her education !-'twas a sore defect;

She, who had ever such a vast delight

To learn, and now could neither read nor write :
But hear she could, and from our stores I took,
Librarian meet! at her desire, our book.

Full twenty volumes-I would not exceed The modest truth—were there for me to read ; These a long shelf contain'd, and they were found Books truly speaking, volumes fairly bound;

* Richard relates this recollection of his boyhood when the brothers meet over the fire at night.

The rest, for some of other kinds remain'd,
And these a board beneath the shelf
tain'd-

Had their deficiencies in part; they lack'd
One side or both, or were no longer back'd;
But now became degraded from their place,
And were but pamphlets of a bulkier race.
Yet had we pamphlets, an inviting store,
From sixpence downwards

more;

con

nay, a part were

A piece of Wingate-thanks for all we have-
What we of figures needed, fully gave;
Culpepper, new in numbers, cost but thrice
The ancient volume's unassuming price,
But told what planet o'er each herb had power,
And how to take it in the lucky hour.

History we had-wars, treasons, treaties, crimes, From Julius Cæsar to the present times; Questions and answers, teaching what to ask And what reply,—a kind, laborious task: A scholar's book it was, who, giving, swore It held the whole he wish'd to know, and more. And we had poets, hymns and songs divine; The most we read not, but allow'd them fine.

Our tracts were many, on the boldest themes-
We had our metaphysics, spirits, dreams,
Visions and warnings, and portentous sights
Seen, though but dimly, in the doleful nights,
When the good wife her wint'ry vigil keeps,
And thinks alone of him at sea, and weeps.

Add to all these our works in single sheets, That our Cassandras sing about the streets :

These, as I read, the grave good man would say,

66

'Nay, Hannah!" and she answer'd, "What is

Nay?

"What is there, pray, so hurtful in a song?

"It is our fancy only makes it wrong;

"His purer mind no evil thoughts alarm, "And innocence protects him like a charm.” Then would the matron, when the song had pass'd, And her laugh over, ask a hymn at last.

When I had read, and we were weary grown Of other minds, the dame disclosed her own; I could perceive, though Hannah bore full well The ills of life, that few with her would dwell, But pass away, like shadows o'er the plain From flying clouds, and leave it fair again; Still every evil, be it great or small, Would one past sorrow to the mind recall, The grand disease of life, to which she turns, And common cares and lighter suffering spurns. "O! these are nothing,—they will never heed "Such idle contests, who have fought indeed, "And have the wounds unclosed."-I understood My hint to speak, and my design pursued, Curious the secret of that heart to find,

To mirth, to song, to laughter loud inclined,

And yet to bear and feel a weight of grief

behind:

How does she thus her little sunshine throw

Always before her?--I should like to know.

My friend perceived, and would no longer hide
The bosom's sorrow-Could she not confide

In one who wept, unhurt-in one who felt, untried?

"Dear child, I show you sins and sufferings strange, "But you, like Adam, must for knowledge change "That blissful ignorance: remember, then,

"What now you feel should be a check on men ; "For then your passions no debate allow, "And therefore lay up resolution now. ""Tis not enough, that when you can persuade "A maid to love, you know there's promise made; ""Tis not enough, that you design to keep "That promise made, nor leave your lass to weep, "For he had truth with love; but love in youth "Does wrong, that cannot be repaired with truth.

"Ruth-I may tell, too oft had she been told— "Was tall and fair, and comely to behold, "Gentle and simple, in her native place "Not one compared with her in form or face; "She was not merry, but she gave our hearth "A cheerful spirit that was more than mirth.

"There was a sailor boy, and people said "He was, as man, a likeness of the maid; "But not in this for he was ever glad, "While Ruth was apprehensive, mild, and sad; "A quiet spirit hers, and peace would seek "In meditation: tender, mild, and meek!