some admirer of nature, who seems to have had eye for the beauty of utility

!

"Hail, lovely Connecticut, who ever hast ran, Giving shad to South Hadley, and pleasure to man Spent at Worcester two delightful days, with more than two delightful friends. Let them be sacred from print! This town is quite inferior to Northampton in natural scenery, and perhaps in the number of magnificent, patriarchal-looking mansions; but it has greatly the advantage of Northampton, in being laid out for the most part in one straight and wide main street, in traversing which, you enjoy all the prettiness of the village at one coup d'œil. Leaving Worcester at sunrise, I walked thirty-two miles that day; and at ten o'clock the next forenoon found myself at home.

My absence was ten days. If you have noticed my numerals, gentle reader, you have perceived that I walked on the first day but little more than half as much as on the tenth. Yet, I was less tired at the close of the last day than of the first. So much does simple exercise effect, especially in walking.

As the result of my ten days' experience, I would advise any one to perform his journeys, in pleasent weather, on foot -if he be in no great hurry to "arrive the point proposed " -if he like to move now fast, now slow, now here, now there, as the humor may sieze him-if he dislike the trouble of seeing to any other animal than himself if he have a pretty stout pair of legs-if he be troubled with bashfulness.

A TALE OF OTHER TIMES.

I HAVE been reading tales of chivalry;

Tales of the gallant knight and tented field;
When man was ruled by glance of woman's eye,
And wore her semblance on his burnished shield;

When for his sword she dictated the motto;
Such a dominion had the ladies got to!

No one can have a greater reverence,
Than my poor self, for all the softer sex
No one can have a more exalted sense

Of all their arts and powers to tease and vex
My heart beats pit-a-pat, like any hammer,
Before a beauty,-if she talk good grammar.

But from the instance I 'm about to tell

Of female tyranny, you must confess,
If such things took place frequently, 't were well
To have their influence a little less;

I'll cite you in as few words as I'm able
This fact-which seems to me much like a fable.

Rich in a flowing wealth of golden hair,
The precious beauty of a darkling eye,
Of well turned limb, and features passing fair,
Of crimson lip and cheek of roselike dye,
A fairy damsel lived in ancient time,

Well worthy of some deathless minstrel's rhyme.

A sage resided in the court with her,

Of hoary locks and wrinkled cheek and brow;
Whose age exactly I cannot aver,

And, if I could, it matters little now;
I don't consider it as very weighty;
However, he was something short of eighty.

Now, was it not, or was it, very strange

That this philosopher should fall in love? He did and his attachment knew no change;

"T was really such as "saints might feel above"; And for my life I can see no objection

The dame could have, to slight his pure affection.

She did, however. Once upon a day,

The aged man besought her for a kiss,
Told her she was a sunbeam on his way,

And swore point blank to that lie and to this,
As lovers always do-till she relented,
And kindly to the boon required consented-

On one condition-on his hands and knees
He must succumb, and in his mouth receive
A bridle; let her saddle him, at ease,

And ride upon his back;—he gave her leave!
A girl thus made a slave of a philosopher;
A tale of love the stoic cannot gloss over.
Mills tells the full-length story in his way,
And you may read it any leisure day.

"O father, father, list to me,

The Pig is deadly sick,

And men have hung him by his heels,
And fed him with a stick."

It was the bloody butcher then
That laughed as he would die,
Yet did he soothe the sorrowing child,
And bid him not to cry-

"O Nathan, Nathan, what's a Pig,
That you should weep and wail?
Come, bear you like a butcher's child,
And you shall have his tail."

It was the butcher's daughter then,
So slender and so fair,

That sobbed as if her heart would break,
And tore her yellow hair;

And thus she spoke in thrilling tone

Fast fell the tear-drops big

"Ah, wo is me! alas! alas!

The Pig! the Pig! the Pig!"

It was the stalwart butcher man
Made merry with her wo,
And called her many a naughty name,
Because she whimpered so.

Ye need not weep, ye gentle ones,
In vain your tears are shed,
You cannot wash his crimson hand,
Ye cannot soothe the dead.

The bright sun folded on his breast
His robes of rosy flame,

And softly over all the West,
The shades of evening came.

He slept, and troops of murdered Pigs
Were busy with his dreams-

Loud rang their wild, unearthly shrieks,
Wide yawned their mortal seams.

The clock struck twelve-the dead hath heard,

He opened both his eyes,

And sullenly he shook his tail,

To lash the feeding flies.

One quiver of the hempen cord,

One struggle, and one bound,
With stiffened limb, and leaden eye,
The Pig was on the ground!

And straight toward the sleeper's house,
His fearful way he wended,

And hooting owl and hovering bat
On midnight wing attended.

Back flew the bolt, up rose the latch,
And open swung the door,

And little mincing feet were heard,
Pat, pat, along the floor.

Two hoofs upon the sanded boards,

And two upon the bed,

And they are breathing side by side,

The living and the dead!

"Now wake, now wake, thou butcher man!
What makes thy cheek so pale ?
Take hold, take hold,-thou dost not fear
To clasp a spectre's tail?"

They called full loud, they knocked full long, They did not waken him.

Strait, strait towards that oaken beam,

A trampled pathway ran

A ghastly shape was swinging there;
It was the butcher man.