No more to the home of my sire can I fly,

His hoar-hairs I have sunk in the grave...

To the haunts of my childhood, my babe! we must hie,
From Char'ty's cold hand to implore that supply
Which in youth oft to others I gave!

STANZAS,

Spoken by one of the Children of the DEAF & DUMB INSTITUTION, Edinburgh, at the Annual Examination, July 5th, 1813.

I,

AS when the SAVIOUR did from Heaven descend,
To ease the load of human woes,
To give the troubled soul repose,
Which did beneath the yoke of Satan bend :

II.

At his command disease and misery fled;
He caused the DUMB to speak, the DEAF to hear;
He raised, with gentle touch, the drooping head,
And calm'd the breast disturbed with grief and fear.

III,

So ye, by His example taught,

Your gentle hearts with pity fraught,

With sympathetic tenderness o'erflow:
Your hands are stretched to ease each grief,
To give each suff'rer kind relief,

And from each eye to wipe the tears of woe.
IV.

What, but for you, had been our mournful state?
Shut out from knowledge, sacred and refined;
No sweet sensation could each scene create
To please or to instruct the vacant mind.

But now, each parent sees with tears of joy,
This state amended by your tender care,
As thus with friendly aid the sad defects
Of Nature's suffering children ye repair.

VI.

Our grateful hearts we pour in thanks to you,
Because we now can thus our thoughts express;

With perseverance still your plan pursue,

Nor let your minds despair of hoped success.

VII.

For Heaven propitious, smiles upon your ways,
And all admire your ever bounteous hand;
A future race shall grateful sound your praise,
And call for blessings on this favour'd land,

A PARENT'S OFFERING on a CHILDS BIRTH-DA

AF

FFECTION, my child, speaks the language of Truth "Tis the voice of the parent-the guidance of youth ; Attend to its dictates, and, oh! may it prove

The bliss of your life, and the fruits of my love.
Revolving Time's circuit announces the morn
In annual return, on which you were born,
Your birth-day we hail, and to Heaven our prayer
Address-that you ever its blessings may share.
May your life in the future be mark'd ev'ry stage
By the progress of virtue, to reverenc'd age;
Let reason and sense, with reflection combin'd,
Have their influence in forming the cast of your mind;
Let your manners be gentle, and with them annex
A mildness of temper, the pride of your sex;
Let goodness be ever your object in view,

And instruction and knowledge the pathe you pursue.
In your breast cause a noble ambition to dwell,
And your fix'd resolution be that to excell:
Ever feel for the wretched...and knowing the call
To acts of compassion, shew kindness to all.
Need I add, that your God's benedictions accrue
From the filial discharge of the duty that's due.
May these be your own, and ever in store

Be blessings for you when your parent's no more!

Anon.

POETIC ANSWER to the ENIGMA in our last Number.

IN CONSCIENCE we've a friend sincere,
Who oft, in strongest language, bids us hear
His faithful judgment on our doubts.
He passes sentence on our thoughts:

He points the course we ought to steer.
My friend! then hold his sacred counsel dear!

NOTES TO CORRESPONDENTS.

I. D.

THE Road to Riches, Effusions of Gratitude, &c. are received; als the favours of H.-M.-P. D.-A. P.-and SYLYAB; together with several other Answers to the ENIGMA above alluded to, all of which have proved correct.

We are sorry at having overlooked the former communication by H. which was entirely an omission; as the postage of it, as well as of all the other contributions he has been so obliging as send us, was paid. We must refer M. M. to the first paragraph of p. 8 of our preface, lately published in the Supplementary Number to Vol. I.

HADDINGTON:

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

The Relapse:-or the sick-bed of Lewis in his brother's house.

THE CHEAP MAGAZINE.

No. III.]

MARCH, 1814.

[VOL. II.

DOMESTIC SCENES:

BEING A CONTINUATION OF

THE HISTORY OF AN IRISH FAMILY.

LEWIS takes up his abode with Terence...Sickens... Picture of a well-regulated family...Terence's house the abode of peace... Lewis removes to Dick's habitation... Finds it the seat of discord... Visits Roger and Lizzy... More bad effects of drunkenness...Traits of fraternal affection..... Betty's imprudent conduct....A lesson for wives...Life and death of a drunkard... Character of a good wife...A lecture to Betty... Reflections on brother Dick's case... Method devised for his recovery...In what true wealth consists...The subject broached with caution....The great regard of Lewis for his unhappy brother...Dick's penitence...Lewis begins his attempt at reformation...It meets with Betty's approbation... She agrees to his proposals... Lewis recovers apace... Terence well accommodated.....Examples of brotherly love...Lewis becomes an inmate with Dick.

SINCE Lewis had breathed the salubrious atmosphere of the British Channel, his strength had recruited a littlebut the journey to Terence's house, though performed in a carriage, occasioned a relapse of the intermitting fever. Vol. II.

The

The joy of his return was sorrowfully alloyed to his brothers and sisters when they beheld him emaciated, sallow, and nervous. They all offered him the best accommodation they possessed; but Terence's house was the first in his way from the metropolis.-There he had sickened, and there he remained from the end of autumn till late in the spring, and there he felt very comfortable. Terence was bound to attend his boys, and his wife was equally engaged in the girls' school for several hours every day; but their eldest daughter, a fine girl, eleven years old, was so handy and attentive, that her uncle was perfectly satisfied; and when he could bear to speak, or be spoken to, his nephew, nine years of age, was a pleasant, easy, and animated companion.

ones.

Lewis had always a tenderness for children, and while at L.-Lodge, spent as much time as he could command with his sister in the nursery. He was enchanted with the beauty, docility, and sprightliness of Terence's little His wife and he agreed most cordially in their management. Their children were restrained by gentle firmness, in the first stage of infancy, and as their understanding opened, and their principles became settled, a greater measure of liberty was granted to them. Tears, murmurs, or lamentations, were scarce ever known in this humble dwelling, where reason, and not arbitrary power, governed the numerous individuals.

In the beginning of summer, Lewis was able to accept the repeated invitations he had received from Dick and his wife; and there he saw with painful certainty, that with all the means that could be desired in their station, they were strangers to comfort. Dick's frequent transgressions against sobriety, his wife's ill temper, and the turbulence of their children, poisoned all the gratifications that wealth afforded them. As soon as decency would permit

permit, Lewis proceeded to Roger's house: He had not been two years married. His wife was nursing a fine boy. Lizzy's house was in the same street. She had a boy two years old, and an infant girl. The saturday after Lewis came to town, Dick attended a cattle-market there; and after drinking all the night, thundered at Roger's door about midnight. The family were asleep, but Dick made such an uproar, that his brother and sister-in-law got up and offered him a bed-but he insisted on seeing Lewis, and to make him promise to return with him next day. In short, the disturbance and concern he created to the invalid, occasioned a violent attack of his nervous complaints. Dick slept till a very late hour on Sunday-but when he recalled to mind his own conduct, and was informed of its effect on his brother, he tore his hair, and with frantic denunciations of vengeance on himself, terrified every one but Roger, who, seizing his hand, said to "What is past cannot be meñded, but you may make things worse. Lewis's life depends on keeping him quiet. If he hears you, it will kill him outright.”

him

"Kill him!" said Dick; "If I had twenty lives I would value them no more than a pin's point to his. The first time I seed his blessed face, he saved me from being shot, or flogged, worser than fair death--and, Oh! rascallion-I have, may-be, kilt him, Oh! that my heart's blood could do him good."

"No, Dick," said Roger, "your heart's blood could be of no avail-but I think I could tell you what would calm his, trembling fits."

"Name it then," said Dick, "and if I don't try to fetch it from the world's end, call me black-hearted Scoundrel forever.”

"You can easily bestow it, and you only can bestow it," said Roger.

I 2