look around him, and was astonished at hearing the groans of some person a few yards below his feet;-he peeped cautiously over the rock, and, in a little green den, beheld a man lying on his face, as if in the act of devotion, Richard drew near to listen-he was indeed addressing his creator at intervals-his hat was lying beside him, and a tartan mantle was drawn over his head." Since thou thoughtest fit," said he," to take her to thyself, thou knowest, O Lord! that I never said at word about it; and though I might have taken it rather worse, yet I would not have repined, nor reflected on thy providence, if thou had'st taken my daughter also ;"-" he is wonderfully familiar with his maker,” said Richard to himself; "I suppose he is like me, he has not tried often to pray, and is obliged to express himself in such words as he can find."--Richard thought for a moment of joining himself to the church of England;-" is it possible," continued Richard," that he is really going to accuse the governor of the world of bad management to his face."-" But now to be bereft of my darling child in this manner;" "alas! he has lost his darling child," said Richard, "I pity him,--perhaps, his grief is so excessive, he knows not what he is saying."" To have her decoyed from me by a fool and a villain !"-" It is surely a severe trial," said Richard, “but misfortunes have the proper effect upon this man,-if I knew what to say, I would go and pray too;"-" thou knowest that I loved her, and still love her; but what is now to become of my poor Jessy Me"-" What do you say ?” ?" said Richard, passionately-"I | am not speaking to you," said the other without lifting his face from the ground. It was old Gregory-Richard's misfortune had also reached his ears with many aggravations-it affected him deeply, he could not rest that morning, and this was the result,-old Gregory had been a very fortunate manhe had never met with any serious misfortune in his life; except the loss of his wife;-old Gregory was not sure whether that was a misfortune or nothe bore it with Christian patience and resignation. 66 "I will thank you friend if you will be so kind as not to disturb me for a few minutes," said old Gregory looking up?"Ah! you rascal! is it you? What do you mean, Sir, by dogging me thus? Do you intend to take my life?" “ Nó” said Richard. "What then do you want?" "I want to join you in your prayers for Jessy M- -e, provided you will be reasonable with them." Old Gregory shook his head; "I never catched catched you at your prayers before Sir," said Richard, said Richard, "That is none of your business, said old Gregory, get out of my sight; for you are a vagabond, and I hate you;" "it is a bad frame of mind to renew your morning devotions in ;" said Richard continuing his walk. Richard's energy continued to increase with his difficulties-his credit was restored;-he is now a richer man than ever old Gregory was, and a respectable living instance of what perseverance can accomplish. Here was one whom misfortune drove to silent sorrow; one to frenzied devotion, but Richard's was the best plan of the three. THE AULD MAN'S FAREWELL TO HIS LITTLE HOUSE. BY JOHN MILLER. I LIKE ye weel my wee auld house, Lang hast thou happit mine an' me, My head's grown gray aneath thy kipple, An' ay thy ingle cheek was free, Baith to the blind man an' the cripple. An' to the puir forsaken wight; My cot was open day an' night, What gart my ewes thrive on the hill? The puir man left me ay his blessin.' Troth I maun greet wi' thee to part, Sic joys will never glad my heart, My bonny bairns around me smil'd ; My sonsy wife sat by me spinnin'; Ay liltin' o'er her ditties wild, In notes sae artless an' sae winnin'. An' when the kye croon'd i' the bire, We kend our supper time fu' weel. Our frugal meal was ay a feast; I canna help but haud thee dear, I better loe than gaudy cielin'. Thy roof will fa', thy rafters start, I thought to cour aneath thy wa', Wi' lowly roof o' swaird sae green. Farewell my house, an' burnie clear, EDINBURGH-Printed at the Star Office, (price 4d. a single Number, 4s. 6d. per quarter, deliverable in town, and 58. when sent to the country), by A. AIKMAN, for the PROPRIETORS; where Subscriptions, and Communications, (post paid), will be received. 1811. Felices ter et amplius, The Spy. SATURDAY, MARCH 23. I HAVE always considered it a matter of the first importance for a man to зecure his comfort and happiness at home. There, he is destined to spend the intervals of business or amusement, thither, he must direct his evening steps as to a place of refuge, and he may almost be pronounced happy or miserable, as he finds himself so in his own house. "No matter," says Seneca, "though all be noise and tumult abroad, if all is peace and harmony at home." From the vexations of the world, the fatiguing routine of office, and the monotonous formalities of fashion, he can still retire to that tranquil felicity which reigns in the bosom of his family. He can fly as a bird from the tossings of the storm to his own secure and quiet nest.. But domestic infelicity poisons every joy, and, to a delicate mind, is of all evils the most difficult to bear. It embitters these hours of confidence and retirement when the weary heart seeks a relief from the cares of the world, in the unrestrained endearments of domestic intercourse... How miserable must he be to whom the thought of home is associated only with painful No. 30. recollections, and who seeks to spend his evenings in the tavern, or at the gaming table, rather than within his own walls. If then Sir, the marriage state is of such capital importance in the happiness of the individual, it should certainly be entered into with caution. That which can seldom be done but once, ought to be done well. Unhappy marriages, indeed, are generally, such as are contracted by the parties without a sufficient knowledge of each other, or from some of those showy accomplishments which now constitute almost the scle education of our fashionable young ladies; and which may dazzle for a moment, but never can compensate the want of more substantial qualifications. Hence, love is represented as blind, so incongruous are the matches which he makes, that the prize of good fortune is almost as uncertain in the lottery of matrimony, as in that of the state. Indeed, this blind guide seems to have chosen whim and caprice, instead of reason and virtue for his leaders. My friend, Tom Lyric, united himself to a poetess who might have passed for Calliope herself, so sentimental the cast of her eye, so sublime the flights of her fancy, and so ardent the effusions of her soul. So soaring a spirit was not to be confined to the sordid cares of domestic life, more suited to . these were hours which his Seniora determined he should never enjoy. Nothing was to her so gothic as the dull monotony of sequestered life. She could not live without applause; company was necessary to her very existence. The acquirements of twenty years were not be wasted, "on the desert air," or on the dull ear of a husband, and though Adagio's sweet villa was converted into an opera house, the interludes were filled up with reciprocal complaints, and the HARMONY of the evening was generally succeeded by the discord of the night. Now, however, Adagio passes his evenings in the tavern and leaves his nightingale to sing to herself. the wife of Ulysses, than the daughter, hours of solitude and retirement. But, of Apollo, to a Penelope than to a Sappho; no wonder that those eyes which were continually gazing upon the heavens, should seldom be cast down upon the earth. She was more frequently in the clouds, than in the nursery, and while she ascended in her poetical balloon, she viewed as far beneath her, the little cares of this piddling world. Inaccessible to her family in her seasons of inspiration, the duties of the mother were neglected for those of the muses, and that time which should have been given to the education of her children, and the regulation of her domestic economy was consumed in turning the harmony of a sonnet, or in whetting the point of an epigram. Tom found that he had more cares upon his hands than even when he lived a batchelor. Young squire Trip made a more whimsical choice, for he selected his rib not for the accomplishments of her head, but of her heels. He loved dancing, and she footed it away so neatly at a country wedding, that he besought the partner of his dance to become that of his life. He soon found, however, by dear bought experience, that she was equally skilled in the use of the fist as in that of the heels, but as good luck would have it, she danced off at a quick step one morning with a captain of dragoons who was upon marching orders and has not been since heard of. Nor do I think that Adagio was more prudent in his nuptials, who chose a young lady as one would chuse a lark, merely for her singing qualifications, fondly imagining that these would be a delightful solacement to him in the Nay, Mr. Spy, men will sometimes overlook in the blindness of passion or of prejudice even the most palpable defects of character in the objects of their attachments, realizing the sentiment of the sage : That, to be wise and loved, Is not even granted to the gods above.* Thus, Sir, Anthony Heedless, married a speculatist deeply imbued with the frigid maxims of modern illuminatism. She laughed at religion, and therefore, he thought her above prejudice. She despised the censure of the world, and therefore, he imagined her beyond its reach. Before the wane of the honey-moon, however, she had adorned his temples with a brace of sprouting antlers, which surprised nobody, but Sir Anthony himself, so naturally do mankind connect purity of conduct with looseness of principle. When I last saw him he was suing for a divorce from his philo* Amare simul, et sapere, ipsi Jovi non datur. ⚫ SENECA. |