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A MORAL AND PHYSICAL THERMOMETER ;

OR, A

SCALE OF THE PROGRESS OF TEMPERANCE AND INTEMPERANC Drawn up by the ingenious Dr. Lettsom.

LIQUORS, with THEIR EFFECTS, in THEIR USUAL ORDER

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To the Editors of the Cheap Magazine.

GENTLEMEN, IF the following lines are worthy of being preserved in

the pages of your valuable Miscellany, their insertion will confer an

obligation upon your constant reader, and sincere well-wisher, Leven-Street, Edin. 22d. Dec. 1813.

MA

VIGIL OBSERVATOR.

ARK hapless MARY, as she sits beneath
The oak's refreshing shade, her eyes suffus'd
With briny tears, while at her foot her boy
Playful and thoughtless often, lisping craves
The cause of her distress; ah! little knows
The prattling innocent, the various griefs
Which wring his mother's heart. Tho' now she sits
The livelong day, dependant on the boon
Of casual charity, in former times

When heav'n propitious smil'd, she had to spare
To those who were in, want; and she would oft
Dry from the orphan's cheek the falling tear,
And soothe the woes of age; oft would she seek
Th' abode of poverty, and with the hand
Of genuine Christian charity bestow

Her liberal bocn.. Nor to the soul distress'd
With dread forebodings of a future state
Did she neglectful prove, it was her care
To point the sinner to the Son of GOD;
Whose meritorious life, atoning death
And intercession with his father, forms
The basis of the Christian's hope; the way
By which mankind attain the rest divine.

Yet, ah! how oft the streams of providence
Run counter to our wishes and our hopes:

How

How oft the night of dire adversity

Beclouds our fairest prospects, and destroys

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The sunshine of the breast.' Such was the fate
Of hapless MARY; smiling morn arose

And all was peace, but ere the orb of day
Had sunk beneath the wave, her husband fell
Beneath th' assassin's hand, and groaning, died.

As sorrow seldom comes alone,' the grave
Had scarce received her dead, when, sad to tell,
A sudden shriek at midnight gave th' alarm
Of fire, resistless raging; from her sleep
Disturb'd and broken, MARY woke, but ah!
What pencil could her countenance pourtray,
When through the roaring element she heard
At intervals her children's shrieks, and saw
Drear ruin now at hand; yet love of life
Compell'd her from the raging flame to fly,
And with her infant hanging at her breast
She stood afar, and saw her mansion fair
Become her children's tomb; frantic she sought
The dreary waste, where she would roam all day,
For now she friends had none, (the world, alas!
Owns not the child of poverty,) and now

She lives upon the charity of those

Whose hearts feel for another's misery.

Ye fair! in beauty's bloom, to whom kind Heav'n Hath lent a liberal store of worldly goods, Reflect on MARY's fate; such fate ere long May be your own;-she once was fair like you, And once had wherewithal to soothe the lot Of virtuous poverty: that task be yoursDo ye as MARY did; and when the storms Of ruthless winter chill the darken'd air, Affliction's daughters gratefully shall pour Their blessings on your head; and ye shall know, This sacred truth- To bless is to be blest!'

TO M. D.—WITH A MELON.

MADAM,-I do present ye here
A Melon, fresh and new,

The first that ever I did rear,
The first you ever grew.

This melon, nurs'd with tender care,

Was never doom'd to know

The plagues of pestilential air,

Nor killing damps below.

1913.

While others shar'd a common lot,
Upon the open field,
This plant was foster'd in a pot,
Within a frame conceal'd.

No nipping frosts its foliage waste,
Nor blasting stormy winds,
It, in each garden, where 'tis plac'd,
A new Madeira finds.

Its odours sweet, and comely hue,
By rich and poor respected;
While other plants around it grew
Unnotic'd, and neglected:

But why caress'd? why thus ador'd?
The fairest and the best
Promiscuously shall be devour'd,
And mix'd among the rest.

REFLECTION.

Ye mortals read the moral here,
The melon's fate is yours;
Suppose the earth a garden fair,
And mankind plants and flow'rs;
Some bloom in fortune's sunny bow'r,
Some meet the stormy blast

Of fate, till Death alike devour,

And mix us all at last.

R. GARDNER.

THE DISTINCTION OF AGES.

THE seven first years of life, (man's break of day)
Gleams of short sense, a dawn of thought display;
When fourteen springs have bloom'd his downy cheek,
His soft and blushful meanings learn to speak;
From twenty-one proud manhood takes its date,
Yet is not strength complete till twenty-eight;
Thence to his five-and-thirtieth, life's gay fire
Sparkles, burns loud, and flames in fierce desire;
At forty-two his eyes grave wisdom wear,
And the dark future dims him o'er with care;
On to the nine-and-fortieth, toils increase,
And busy hopes and fears disturb his peace;
At fifty-six, cool reason reigns entire,

Then life burns steady, and with temp❜rate fire;
But sixty-three unbinds the body's strength,
Ere th' unwearied mind has run her length;
And when from seventy Age surveys her last,
Tir'd she stops short-and wishes all were past.

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Deaf and Dumb Institution.

FROM THE EDINBURGHI STAR."

WE are informed, that at the annual meeting of the subscribers to the Deaf and Dumb Institution, held in the Assembly Rooms. George Street, on Wednesday, which was attended by the Duke of BUCCLEUGH as president, the Earl and Countess of LEVEN and MELVILLE, the Earl of ANCRUM, &c. the children (thirty-two in number) gave the most satisfactory proof of the very great progress they had made, since the last meeting, in articulation, writing, arithmetic, composition, and accurate definition of words., At the conclusion, some of them were called upon to recite the Lord's Prayer, and one of them the following verses, which they did with great distinctness and propriety

TH

HOUGH harsh my sounds, my voice tho' weak,
Your kindness, friends, forbids my fear,

What I, once dumb, attempt to speak,

With patient candour you will lear.
My mind would o'er its prison range,

And mourn its thoughts in darkness bound,
For all within was wild and strange,
And all was silent wonder round.
Though oft your moving lips I see,
No cheering sounds my ears admit;
All Nature is as dumb to me,

As I, alas, am deaf to it.
Aided by your industrious art,
Defective nature doth improve,
And helps me thus, with grateful heart,
To thank you for your generous love.

I came-nor knew to speak or read,

Lost to myself, my friends, and man;`

I'll shortly go-to earn my bread,

And shew the world your useful plan.

NOTES TO CORRESPONDENTS.

"THE BEACON, IN A BLAZE AGAIN!" by the Observant Pedestrian, will appear soon, and we will be highly gratified by the remainder of the affecting story of Tom Bragwell.

A Tender Plant blasted in the Bud-Directions for managing Bees and the favours of H.-D. M. and a Well-wisher are received.

HADDINGTON;

Printed and Published, MONTHLY, by G. MILLER & SON

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