Goose and Sir Tunbelly Clumsy.) The boys laugh out at their own misfortunes, but the little girls (almost ashamed of their prizes) sit blushing and silent. It is not until the lady of the house goes round, that some of the more extravagant fictions are revealed. And then, what a roar of mirth!-Ha! ha!-The ceiling shakes, and the air is torn. They bound from their seats, like kids, and insist on seeing Miss Thompson's "character." Ah! what merry spite is proclaimed, what ostentatious pity! The little girl is almost in tears; but the large lump of allotted cake is placed seasonably in her hand, and the glass of sweet wine "all round" drowns the shrill urchin laughter, and a gentler delight prevails!" 8TH. Winter to-day may be again most truly said 'to rear his giant form, "His robe a mist, his voice a storm. Until at length his angrier tones subsiding, 'Through the hushed air the whitening shower descends, Fall broad, and wide, and fast, dimming the day The links of thought, which form what we call association of ideas, are often imperceptible. I am gazing down from my window upon a dull street, the most important objects in which are the passing vehicles fast covering with a robe of snow, and the hastening foot-traveller, bending his head forwards as he goes, that his features may receive as little as possible of the thickening shower;-and what in such a scene can recal to my recollection the sublimities of that fine winter-piece of Coleridge, the "Hymn before Sun-rise in the Valley of Chamouny?" Ye ice-falls, ye, that from the mountain's brow Torrents, methinks that heard a mighty voice, Who made you glorious, as the gates of heaven Utter forth GOD, and fill the hills with praise! 15TH. CORONATION (IN 1559) OF QUEEN ELIZABETH. Of whom thus quaintly, though The flowers of the Gentiana Major, which grows profusely within a few paces of the glaciers in sublime Switzerland. H If ever royal virtues crowned a crown, If ever courage dwelt with courtesy, For temperance, prowess, prudence, equity, Spain's rod, Rome's ruin, Netherlands' relief, 20TH. A day for ever to be consecrated to the memory of HOWARD!-for it was on this day, anno 1790, that, falling a martyr to his glorious pursuits, he quitted every earthly scene of sorrow. It is not possible to describe the philanthrophic labours of this truly great man, in language more appropriate than that of Burke. He visited all Europe, not to survey the sumptuousness of palaces, or the stateliness of temples; not to make accurate measurements of the remains of ancient grandeur, nor to form a scale of the curiosities of modern art; not to collect medals, or collate manuscripts;-but to dive into the depths of dungeons; to plunge into the infection of hospitals; to survey the mansions of sorrow and pain; to take the gage and dimensions of misery, depression, and contempt; to remember the forgotten, to attend Fol. 1701. p. 332. to the neglected, to visit the forsaken, and to compare and collate the distresses of men in all countries.' 22ND. THE NATAL DAY OF BYRON! the very PRINCE (it would be pure bathos to style him but the Lord) of modern poets. To the young aspirant for poetic bays, there can be nothing more curious, nor, possibly, more interesting, than the memorable greeting given by the Edinburgh Reviewers to the "Hours of Idleness," the earliest Parnassian wreath, twined and published during his minority, by the immortal bard. The poesy of this young lord,' observed these liberal and ingenious critics, 'belongs to the class which neither gods nor men are said to permit. Indeed, we do not recollect to have seen a quantity of verse with so few deviations in either direction from that exact standard. His effusions are spread over a dead flat, and can no more get above or below the level, than if they were so much stagnant water.' Insensate souls! they could write thus, after perusing (or pretending to have perused) such lines as the following, written at the age of seventeen, and even at that period so well pourtraying those uncontrollable feelings, that already elevated him above every adventitious circumstance of birth and wealth, and taught him all those melancholy perceptions of the world's vanity, and the selfishness of men, that were the chief themes of his master-lyre till the very hour when its chords were broken by the hand of death! Fortune! take back these cultured lands, Take back this name of splendid sound! I hate the touch of servile hands, I hate the slaves that cringe around. Place me among the rocks I love, Which sound to Ocean's wildest roar; I ask but this-again to rove Through scenes my youth hath known before. Few are my years, and yet I feel, The world was ne'er designed for me; Ah! why do dark'ning shades conceal I loved-but those I loved are gone: Had friends-my early friends are filed: How cheerless feels the heart alone, When all its former hopes are dead! Though gay companions, o'er the bowl, Dispel awhile the sense of ill, Though pleasure stirs the madd'ning soul, The heart-the heart is lonely still. How dull! to hear the voice of those, Whom rank or chance, whom wealth or power, Oh! that to me the wings were given, |