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God, which brought you out of the land of Egypt. Therefore shall ye observe all my statutes, and all my judgments, and do them.-Bible.
Creation of Birds.-MILTON.
1 MEANWHILE the tepid caves, and fens and shores,
Their airy caravans high over seas
3 Ceased warbling, but all night tuned her soft lays:
Their downy breast; the swan, with arched neck
The dank, and, rising on stiff pcnons, tower
The Mariner's Song.
A WET sheet and a flowing sea,
And fills the white and rustling sail,
"Oh! for a soft and gentle wind,"
-But give to me the snoring breeze,
Village Sounds at Evening.
SWEET was the sound, when oft, at evening's close,
The Porcupine Temper.-MISS EDGEWORTH.
Mrs. Bolingbroke. I wish I knew what was the matter with me this morning. Why do you keep the newspaper all to yourself, my dear?
Mr. Bolingbroke. Here it is for you, my dear: I have finished it.
Mrs. B. I humbly thank you for giving it to me when you have done with it. I hate stale news. Is there any thing in the paper? for I cannot be at the trouble of hunting it.
Mr. B. Yes, my dear; there are the marriages of 2 two of our friends.
Mrs. B. Who? Who?
Mr. B. Your friend, the widow Nettleby, to her cousin John Nettleby.
Mrs. B. Mrs. Nettleby! Dear! But why did you tell me?
Mr. B. Because you asked me, my dear.
Mrs. B. Oh, but it is a hundred times pleasanter to read the paragraph one's self. One loses all the pleasure of the surprise by being told. Well, whose was 3 the other marriage?
Mr. B. Oh, my dear, I will not tell you; I will leave you the pleasure of the surprise.
Mrs. B. But you see I cannot find it. How provoking you are, my dear! Do pray tell me.
Mr. B. Our friend, Mr. Granby.
Mrs. B. Mr. Granby! Dear! Why did not you make me guess? I should have guessed him directly. But why do you call him our friend? I am sure he is no friend of mine, nor ever was. I took an aversion 4 to him, as you remember, the very first day I saw him. I am sure he is no friend of mine.
Mr. B. I am sorry for it, my dear; but I hope you will go and see Mrs. Granby.
Mrs. B. Not I, indeed, my dear.
Who was she?
Mr. B. Miss Cooke.
Mrs. B. Cooke! But there are so many Cookes
Can't you distinguish her any way?
Has she no Chris
Mr. B. Emma, I think. Yes, Emma.
Mrs. B. Emma Cooke !-No; it cannot be my friend Emma Cooke; for I am sure she was cut out for an old maid.
Mr. B. This lady seems to me to be cut out for a good wife.
Mrs. B. May be so I am sure I'll never go to see her. Pray, my dear, how came you to see so much of her?
Mr. B. I have seen very little of her, my dear. only saw her two or three times before she was married.
Mrs. B. Then, my dear, how could you decide that she was cut out for a good wife? I am sure you could not judge of her by seeing her only two or three times,¿ and before she was married.
Mr. B. Indeed, my love, that is a very just observation.
Mrs. B. I understand that compliment perfectly, and thank you for it, my dear. I must own I can bear any thing better than irony.
Mr. B. Irony! my dear, I was perfectly in earnest. 7 Mrs. B. Yes, yes; in earnest-so I perceive-I may naturally be dull of apprehension, but my feelings are quick enough; I comprehend too well. Yes-it is impossible to judge of a woman before marriage, or to guess what sort of a wife she will make. I presume you speak from experience; you have been disappointed yourself, and repent your choice
Mr. B. My dear, what did I say that was like this? Upon my word, I meant no such thing. I really was not thinking of you in the least.
Mrs. B. No-you never think of me now. easily believe that you were not thinking of me in the least.
Mr. B. But I said that only to prove to you that I could not be thinking ill of you, my dear.
Mrs. B. But I would rather that you thought ill of me, than that you did not think of me at all.
Mr. B. Well, my dear, I will even think ill of you, if that will please you.
Mrs. B. Do you laugh at me? When it comes to this, 9I am wretched indeed. Never man laughed at the
woman he loved. As long as you had the slightest remains of love for me, you could not make me an object of derision: ridicule and love are incompatibleabsolutely incompatible. Well, I have done my best, my very best, to make you happy, but in vain. I see I am not cut out to be a good wife. Happy, happy Mrs. Granby!
Mr. B. Happy, I hope sincerely, that she will be with my friend; but my happiness must depend on you, 10 my love; so, for my sake, if not for your own, be composed, and do not torment yourself with such fancies.
Mrs. B. I do wonder whether this Mrs. Granby is really that Miss Emma Cooke. I'll go and see her directly; see her I must.
Mr. B. I.am heartily glad of it, my dear; for I am sure a visit to his wife will give my friend Granby real pleasure.
Mrs. B. I promise you, my dear, I do not go to give him pleasure or you either? but to satisfy my own curiosity.
To a Waterfowl.-BRYANT.
WHITHER, 'midst falling dew,
While glow the heavens with the last steps of day,
Vainly the fowler's eye
Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong,
Seek'st thou the plashy brink