Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are.
Sometimes she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit:
And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig's tail,
Tickling a parson's nose as he lies asleep,
Then dreams he of another benefice:

Sometimes she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,
Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon
Drums in his ear; at which he starts, and wakes;
And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two,
And sleeps again.

SHAKESPEAre.

ROBERT OF LINCOLN.

MERRILY Swinging on brier and weed,
Near to the nest of his little dame,

Over the mountain-side or mead,

Robert of Lincoln is telling his name:
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,

Spink, spank, spink;

Snug and safe is that nest of ours,
Hidden among the summer flowers.
Chee, chee, chee.

Robert of Lincoln is gayly dressed,
Wearing a bright black wedding coat;

White are his shoulders and white his crest,
Hear him call in his merry note:
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,

Spink, spank, spink;

Look, what a nice new coat is mine,

Sure there was never a bird so fine.
Chee, chee, chee.

Robert of Lincoln's Quaker wife,

Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings, Passing at home a patient life,

Broods in the grass while her husband sings: Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,

Spink, spank, spink;

Brood, kind creature; you need not fear
Thieves and robbers while I am here.
Chee, chee, chee.

Modest and shy as a nun is she,

One weak chirp is her only note; Braggart and prince of braggarts is he, Pouring boasts from his little throat: Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,

Spink, spank, spink;

Never was I afraid of man;

Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can.
Chee, chee, chee.

Six white eggs on a bed of hay,
Flecked with purple, a pretty sight!

There as the mother sits all day,

Robert is singing with all his might:
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,

Spink, spank, spink;

Nice good wife, that never goes out,
Keeping house while I frolic about.
Chee, chee, chee.

Soon as the little one's chip the shell,
Six wide mouths are open for food;
Robert of Lincoln bestirs him well,
Gathering seed for the hungry brood.
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,

Spink, spank, spink;

This new life is likely to be

Hard for a gay young fellow like me.
Chee, chee, chee.

Robert of Lincoln at length is made.
Sober with work and silent with care;
Off is his holiday garment laid,
Half forgotten that merry air,
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,

Spink, spank, spink;

Nobody knows but my mate and I
Where our nest and our nestlings lie.
Chee, chee, chee.

Summer wanes; the children are grown;
Fun and frolic no more he knows;
Robert of Lincoln 's a humdrum crone,
Off he flies, and we sing as he goes:
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,

Spink, spank, spink;

When you can pipe that merry old strain,
Robert of Lincoln, come back again.

Chee, chee, chee.

W. C. BRYANT.

REPLY OF PITT TO WALPOLE.

SIR,- The atrocious crime of being a young man, which the honorable gentleman has, with such spirit and decency, charged upon me, I shall neither attempt to palliate nor deny; but content myself with wishing that I may be one of those whose follies may cease with their youth, and not of that number who are ignorant in spite of experience. Whether youth can be imputed to any man as a reproach, I will not, sir, assume the province of determining; but surely age may become justly contemptible, if the opportunities which it brings have passed away without improvement, and vice appears to prevail when the passions have subsided.

The wretch who, after having seen the consequences of

THE WATER-MILL.

OH! listen to the water-mill, through all the live-long day,
As the clicking of the wheels wears hour by hour away;
How languidly the autum wind doth stir the withered leaves,
As on the field the reapers sing, while binding up the sheaves!
A solem proverb strikes my mind, and as a spell is cast,
“The mill will never grind again with water that is past."
The summer winds revive no more leaves strewn o'er earth
and main,

The sickle never more will reap the yellow garnered grain;
The rippling stream flows ever on, aye, tranquil, deep and

still,

But never glideth back again to busy water-mill.

The solemn proverb speaks to all, with meaning deep and

vast,

"The mill will never grind again with water that is past.”

Oh! clasp the proverb to thy soul, dear loving heart and

true,

For golden years are fleeting by, and youth is passing too; Ah! learn to make the most of life, nor lose one happy day, For time will ne'er return sweet joys neglected, thrown away; Nor leave one tender word unsaid, thy kindness sow broad

"The mill will never grind again with water that is past.”

Oh! the wasted hours of life that have swiftly drifted by, Alas! the good we might have done, all gone without a

sigh;

Love that we might once have saved by a single kindly word, Thoughts conceived but ne'er expressed, perishing unpenned, unheard.

Oh! take the lesson to thy soul, forever clasp it fast,

"The mill will never grind again with water that is past."

Work on while yet the sun doth shine, thou man of strength and will,

The streamlet ne'er doth useless glide by clicking water-mill; Nor wait until to-morrow's light beams brightly on thy way, For all that thou canst call thine own lies in the phrase

66 to

day: " Possessions, power, and blooming health must all be lost at

last

"The mill will never grind again with water that is past."

Oh! love thy God and fellow-man, thyself consider last,
For come it will when thou must scan dark errors of the past;
Soon will this fight of life be o'er, and earth recede from

view,

And heaven in all its glory shine where all is pure and true. Ah! then thou❜lt see more clearly still the proverb deep and

vast,

"The mill will never grind again with water that is past.” D. C. MCCULLUM.

SOUTH CAROLINA AND MASSACHUSETTS.

THE eulogium pronounced on the character of the State of South Carolina, by the honorable gentleman, for her Revolutionary and other merits, meets my hearty concurrence. I shall not acknowledge that the honorable member goes before me, in regard for whatever of distinguished talent or distinguished character South Carolina has produced. I claim part of the honor: I partake in the pride of her great names. I claim them for countrymen, one and all. The Laurenses, the Rutledges, the Pinckneys, the Sumters, the Marions,Americans, all, whose fame is no more to be hemmed in by State lines, than their talents and patriotism were capable of being circumscribed within the same narrow limits.

In their day and generation, they served and honored the country, and the whole country; and their renown is of the