MIDNIGHT AND THE SPIRIT.

OFT in the deep of night, when the great cope
Was canopied with clouds - and muttering storms
Were sweeping 'neath the stars - oft have I sate
Amid that music of the elements,
Over some page of story that gray Time
Hath sadden'd and made holy by the lines
Of wonder or of wo engraven there,
In characters that know no perishing;
Some page by generations hallow'd-full,
And voic'd as with a trumpet, to call up
The spirit to great visions -and at night
Seeming translucent with the light of days
Of which it is the record for a world!

Oft have I pondered, while the glary lamp
Was flickering on the wall - and the sad song
Of the shrill cricket told the weary chime
From hour to hour and as I read, the words
Took shapes as in our dreams, until the page
Seem'd but a congregation of strange forms,
Dim with the mist of years-and my wild brain
Was busied with that ancient companie,
As with a fever's pageantry! Did sleep
Come upon such imaginings, a sound
Came with it, as of aimless sibberings,
A voice that had no echo, and whose tones
Stirr'd not, nor satisfied-a weary sound,
More sadd'ning than the grievous passing bell,
Or the unearthly dreams it heralded!

And when I woke, I thought some dull rebuke
Had visited life's citadel, and turn'd to ice
The streams that were its bravery - and laid
Command on its deep places - until all
Within me seem'd but passing to a land

With shadow link'd, and silence. My wet brow
Was beaded, as it oft is, with great drops,
That mark the pallid marble of its front,
Where the night storm has revel'd!

Do you ask

For a new country, while this inward power
Gives one continual, whose mount and wave

Change ere they can grow ancient- and whose lights
And shadows like a panorama shift

With hues that shame your pencil? Do you ask

For better beauties, when your tangled dreams

Present you oft with worlds of loveliness

Whose colors take a depth beyond your prayers?
Ask you for music, when your pillow brings
Such melody about you as if lyres

Of the veil'd cherubim were swept around
The paths that open o'er you to the sky!
Ask you for glories of the land and sea,
When you have that within you which will call
Those glories up from chaos, with the bow
Of promise crowning them, like that which once
Repos'd on earth's new summit and the cloud?

Nay ask not for a world, while you can bring,
Though in your cell, chaf'd with the racking chain,
A host around you at your summons; nay,
Ask not for anthems, when the wave and wind
Pour out this lifting chorus as you tread
The hill-top and the shore-and as you gaze,
Ask not for volumes, while this bending sky
Spreads such a page above you - nor complain
Of earth's companionship, while all the stars
Hold nightly such communion with your soul!
Portland, October, 1836.

GRENVILLE MELLEN.

THE ORDINARY MAN.

BEING A SERIES OF INCIDENTS INCIDENTAL, OR RATHER INDIGINOUS TO INDIGENCE.

Ir a man has plenty of money, dresses well, and walks the streets all day, he is denominated a gentleman;' but if a man, on the contrary, is destitute of cash, attires himself somewhat indifferently, and lounges about, he is at once stigmatized with the inelegant cognomination of 'loafer.' Such, O reader! are the inscrutable usages of society. Now, some people call me a loafer, merely because I transport bricks for builders, and hold horses sometimes at the races; but I content myself with the knowledge that man is a fallible animal, and too often led away by appearances. One fellow at the theatre, a few evenings since, was preposterous enough to affix that appellative to me, without having had the slightest previous acquaintance. I stepped up to him as he was issuing from the door, and very urbanely requested his check. Go to! you d-d loafer!' said he. I was so shocked at the man's reply, that I absolutely wheeled short round, and left him.

I should not take this ungentle appellation so much to heart, if I was one of that class of persons who extract sugar from hogsheads on the wharf, by means of a piece of reed fashioned in the form of a scoop, or pitch pennies in public places, or vend, as agents, the daily papers of the city. These occupations have never engaged my attention; yet some are indiscriminate enough to rate me among their professors. During my leisure hours, I saunter about the most respectable and fashionable places of amusement. I frequent the Battery. I do not visit Castle Garden, it is true: a shilling is demanded as entrance money, and being a gentleman of limited means, I cannot afford to disburse that sum. But as I have said, I go very often to the Battery, and yet people call me a loafer.

Last night, Uncle Jake and Mr. Dobbs requested me to accompany them to Maelzel's. I consented, on condition that they would become responsible for the charge of admission, which they jointly agreed to do. My worthy relative was very much astonished with the performance of the chess-player. He looked at it steadily for half an hour, and then turning to Mr. Dobbs, remarked, that 'the ingenuity of man was unaccountable to God.' Mr. Dobbs said that it was sartinly a great effort of nature, and a good deal previous to any thing he had ever seen;' and his sage companion finished the collocution, by observing that it was, to his idee, a most unmitigated complexion of machinism.'

I thought that, after having been seen at Maelzel's, people would cease to use the hateful epithet so unjustly bestowed upon me: but, unhappily, the very next day I was pushed against the stall of an apple-woman, overturning her table, and creating a world of havoc among her gingerbread and small beer. The lady, very much incensed, seized the body of a decapitated bottle, and discharged it with a most wonderful accuracy at my head, exclaiming, at the same time: Take dat, ye loafer!-ye tafe o' the world, dat ye are - and may the divil sind his blessing along wid it!'

I was very sorry at being the cause of the lady's misfortune, and

endeavoured, as far as possible, to palliate the offence; but this, instead of pacifying the female, only served to exasperate her the more. Ye divil incarnate!' shouted she, menacing me at the same time with the largest fragment of another bottle, 'be aff wid ye!' and not caring to receive a second salutation from so effective a missile, I walked on, leaving the wrathful dame to arrange matters with divers bad little boys, who had taken illegal possession of sundry of her apples, after the overthrow of the table.

While in this state of defection, I was joined by George Edward Fitz-Augustus Seaton, a colored man, who discharged the functions of waiter at the City Hotel. He informed me that he was going to market, for de special object,' as he declared, 'of purchasing wegetables and other animal matter, for de immediate consumption of de establishment.' Having nothing better to do, I agreed to accompany George Edward Fitz-Augustus, and we accordingly set off for Catharine Market. When we arrived at that dépôt of natural animate and inanimate productions, my companion walked up to the wagon of a fat countryman, and after peering for some time at his stock, inquired, if dose were good taters?'

'Yes, Sir,' responded the countryman.

'A tater,' resumed George Edward Fitz-Augustus, is inevitably bad, unless it is inwariably good. Dere is no mediocrity in de combination of a tater. De exterior may appear remarkably exemplary and beautisome, while de interior is totally negative. But, Sir, if you wends de article upon your own recommendation, knowing you to be a man of probability in your transactions, I without any further circumlocution takes a bushel !'

George Edward now passed to the stall of a dealer in eggs and butter, and taking a quarter of a dollar from his vest pocket, commenced an inspection of the latter commodity. You call dat good butter?' demanded he, with a disagreeable expression upon his countenance, as of an ill flavor suddenly inhaled.

'Yes, Sir, I do

place.'

as good butter as comes to this or any other

'What you tink 'bout axing for dat butter?'

Twenty-five cents.'

nasty, rancid

'Twenty-five cents! And do you suppose, for de moment, dat your butter extensifys to such extreme waluation? stuff, churned over for de 'casion! - old butter renovated!' said the indignant George Edward, moving off; but dat 's de kind of negotiation I frequently meets with in dis market!'

A few days since, a shabby, shoeless, semi-coatless biped detained me in the street by thrusting forth his paw, and inquiring how I fared. I regarded the individual for some moments with a stare of mingled astonishment and disgust; and if he had had the smallest share of gentility, he would have perceived at once that I could be no otherwise than happy to dispense with his company.

'Ha' you forgot me already?' said he: 'why I'm the gen'leman that helped you to pile wood last Saturday, at the lead-factory.'

Are you, indeed ?'

'Yes,' responded he: why you and I is old acquaintances: don't

you recollect how we used to ride the porkers together, down at the Fulton market?'

'I cannot say that my memory serves me, in regard to such equestrian incidents,' answered I, shocked at the fellow's vulgarity.

'And you do n't remember 'old black,' that used to hustle us off by running between the two post'ses !'

No, I do not, Sir,' said I, indignantly.

'Well, that's redikelus !' rejoined the animal: ' any how, come and drink some brandy with me.'

Although I was startled at his rudeness, and treated him somewhat cavalierly, I nevertheless accepted his invitation, because I make it a point never to refuse a kindness. He conducted me passively to one of the city wharves, from thence up an alley, and finally into a back warehouse, where there were a great many pipes, barrels, and quarter-casks. Now,' said he,' that there tier of pipes is Cogniac ; those quarter-casks is Madeira; and them barrels has got whiskey in 'em so take your choice - and here's a straw to suck it with.'

Brandy is my selection,' responded I, extracting a bung, and commencing operations. Scarcely had I tasted the beverage, when a third person made his appearance. My companion and I immediately suspended proceedings, for in this person we recognised the features of a notorious police officer.

'Aha! you wagrants !' exclaimed he, flourishing a huge stick, which he carried in his dexter paw, I've nabbed ye at last!'

'What have I done, Sir?' demanded I, trembling from the toes up.

'Done? you d-d loafer!' roared out this Polyphemus

(he

had but one eye,)-why, hav n't ye been compromising the effects of individuals, by drinking their liquor?'

'Sir, I came here by that gentleman's invitation.'

Then you always accepts invitations, eh ?'

Yes, Sir, I do,' said I.

Then I inwites you to come along with this gentleman and I, up to the office of a big fat man that wears spectacles, and is always happy to see indiwiduals like you, 'specially when you're in my company.'

The officer was inexorable in his purpose, and we were compelled to repair to the hall of justice. The constable made a statement of the case to the magistrate, and that stern disciple of the law, after eying us severely through a pair of glasses whose magnitude, to my excited vision, approximated the circumference of a tea-saucer, committed us for trial. I was recommended by the constable to some portion of this functionary's mercy, it being my first offence; but the unbending limb of the law shook his head with a negative,' saying that if I was not a rogue then, I soon would be one, and that it was always better to crush an evil in the bud.' 'It's a duty,' continued he, that I owe my country, and, by the shade of the immortal Draco! I'll perform it to the fullest extent: and as for you, young man,' turning to my companion, I know you to be an old offender; and so you may as well make up your mind for Blackwell's Island.' The day of our trial at length arrived, and we were conducted to

the court, and in due season arraigned at the bar. My case came on previous to my companion's. Oh, the horror and despondency that possessed my faculties, as I mounted the prisoner's box! Never shall I forget it. Even now it comes over me, like the memory of some dark transaction to the mind of the departing soul. My charges were read, and the trial, with all its solemn attendant formalities, began. My own counsel and the counsel for the prosecution labored like men whose dearest interests were at stake. At length the jury were charged they retired, and after the absence of an hour, returned and communicated with the court.

'Prisoner at the bar!' said the judge- and his silvery voice rang like a death-knell in my ear-stand up, and hear your sentence !' I mechanically sprang to my feet, and a deep, still silence succeeded.

You have been arraigned at this tribunal, upon sundry charges; and after having been allowed the full benefit of the law, you have been, by an impartial jury of your own countrymen, found guilty of them all.' The judge paused for a moment, and that peculiar solemnity, broken only by an occasional cough, reigned for an interval.

Young man,' resumed he, 'it is our duty, professional and moral, to suppress vice in every shape; for this courts are instituted - for this punishments are awarded; and it now becomes my painful obligation to impart to you the sentence of the law. It is the judgment of this court, that you be fined one dollar and may the Lord have mercy on your soul!'

A WINTER SCENE.

THE arrested stream is silent: the broad lake
Gives back no dimple to the eddying wind:
No shadowy furrows streak its gleaming plane,
No ripple murmurs on its beach of snow.

The trees are hung with wreaths of pendant gems:

The mountains seem embodiments of light
Resting their bright crowns in the blue of heaven
So lustrous, fair, and spirit-like they stand
In their investiture of purity.

Is this the river that in voiceful spring

To its own music danced through banks of flowers?
The lake where lightly rocked the gilded bark
And the proud swan led forth her crested brood?
And are yon hills the same, whose fertile sides
Zoned with all grades of verdure, sent toward heaven
Commingling incense on the mists of morn?
All are the same, and yonder brilliant sun,
That scarcely warms the dazzling landscape now,
Shall melt them back to life the hills shall yield
Of their dissolving robes to swell the stream,
Which to the lake shall pour its tribute tide:
The lake shall feed the clouds, and their dark folds
Shade the young roses from the kindling beam.

Earth shall yield up her vegetable dead;
But of all those who pressed her last spring flowers,
Many shall rest beneath them some that roved
These solitudes, and made their echoes ring
With wild, heart-bubbling laughter, shall be still,
Yea, chambered in that vast unlighted hall,
To which earth's surface forms one mighty roof,
Which, with mad mirth, its coming tenants tread !

B.