Then over all that he might be
Equc i tom po to me.

His ang red conk, weil brush i and next.
He munruly did throw.

Now see him mounted once again

Cor his aimcie steed.

Full slowly pacing o'er the stores.
With caution and good beed.

But finding seen a smoother road
Beneath his wel shod feet.
The snorting beast began to trot.
Which gall d him in his seat.

So, fair and softly, John he cried,
But John he cried in vain ;
That trot became a gallop soon.
In spite of curb and rein.

So stooping down, as needs he must
Who cannot sit upright,

He grasp'd the mane with both his hands,
And eke with all his might.

His horse, who never in that sort

Had handled been before,
What thing upon his back had got
Did wonder more and more.

Away went Gilpin, neck or nought;
Away went hat and wig;
He little dreamt, when he set out,
Of running such a rig.

The wind did blow, the cloak did fly,
Like streamer long and gay,
Till. loop and button failing both,
At last it flew away.

Then might all people well discern
The bottles he had slung;
A bottle swinging at each side,
As hath been said or sung.

The dogs did bark, the children scream'd,

Up flew the windows all;

And every soul cried out, Well done!
As loud as he could bawl.

Away went Gilpin-who but he?
His fame soon spread around,

He carries weight! he rides a race!
'Tis for a thousand pound!

VOL. VII.

Your scruples and arguments bring to my mind
A story so pat, you may think it is coin'd,
On purpose to answer you, out of my mint;
But I can assure you I saw it in print.

A youngster at school, more sedate than the rest,
Had once his integrity put to the test;

His comrades had plotted an orchard to rob,
And ask'd him to go and assist in the job.

He was shock'd, sir, like you, and answer'd, "Oh no! What! rob our good neighbour! I pray you

don't go;

Besides, the man's poor, his orchard's his bread, Then think of his children, for they must be fed.'

"You speak very fine, and you look very grave, But apples we want, and apples we'll have ;

If

you will go with us, you shall have a share, If not, you shall have neither apple nor pear."

They spoke, and Tom ponder'd-"I see they will

go;

Poor man! what a pity to injure him so!

Poor man! I would save him his fruit if I could, But staying behind will do him no good.

[tree;

"If the matter depended alone upon me,
His apples might hang till they dropp'd from the
But, since they will take them, I think I'll go too,
He will lose none by me, though I get a few.”

His scruples thus silenced, Tom felt more at ease, And went with his comrades the apples to 'seize; He blamed and protested, but join'd in the plan He shared in the plunder, but pitied the man.

:

THE MORNING DREAM.

'Twas in the glad season of spring,
Asleep at the dawn of the day,
I dream'd what I cannot but sing,
So pleasant it seem'd as I lay.
I dream'd that, on ocean afloat,

Far hence to the westward I sail'd,
While the billows high lifted the boat,
And the fresh-blowing breeze never fail'd.

In the steerage a woman I saw,

Such at least was the form that she wore,
Whose beauty impress'd me with awe,
Ne'er taught me by woman before.
She sat, and a shield at her side

Shed light, like a sun on the waves,
And smiling divinely, she cried-
"I go to make freemen of slaves."

Then, raising her voice to a strain

The sweetest that ear ever heard,
She sung of the slave's broken chain,
Wherever her glory appear'd.

Some clouds, which had over us hung,
Fled, chased by her melody clear,
And methought while she liberty sung,
'Twas liberty only to hear.

Thus swiftly dividing the flood,

To a slave-cultured island we came,
Where a demon, her enemy, stood-
Oppression his terrible name.
In his hand, as the sign of his sway,
A scourge hung with lashes he bore,
And stood looking out for his prey
From Africa's sorrowful shore.

But soon as, approaching the land,
That goddesslike woman he view'd,
The scourge he let fall from his hand,
With blood of his subjects imbrued.
I saw him both sicken and die,

And, the moment the monster expired,
Heard shouts, that ascended the sky,
From thousands with rapture inspired.

Awaking, how could I but muse

At what such a dream should betide? But soon my ear caught the glad news, Which served my weak thought for a guide; That Britannia, renown'd o'er the waves For the hatred she ever has shown To the black-sceptred rulers of slaves, Resolves to have none of her own.