be too familiar with any body, before I know whether he deserves it or not.

King. You are in the right; but what am I to do?

Miller. You may do what you please. You are twelve miles from Nottingham, and all the way through this thick wood; but if you are resolved upon going thither to-night, I will put you on the road, and direct you the best I can; or if you will accept of such poor entertainment as a miller can give, you shall be welcome to stay all night, and in the morning I will go with you myself.

King. And cannot you go with me to-night?

Miller. I would not go with you to-night, if you were the king.

King. Then, I must go with you, I think.

Richmond Encouraging his Soldiers.

THUS far into the bowels of the land
Have we march'd on without impediment.
Richard, the bloody and devouring chief,
Whose ravenous appetite has spoil'd your fields,
Laid this rich country waste, and rudely cropp'd
Its ripen'd hopes of fair posterity,—

Is now even in the centre of the isle.

Thrice is he arm'd who hath his quarrel just;
And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel,
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted:
The very weight of Richard's guilt shall crush him.
Then, let us on, my friends, and boldly face him.
In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man,

As mild behaviour and humanity;

But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Let us be tigers, in our fierce deportment.

For me, the ransom of my bold attempt,
Shall be this body on the earth's cold face;
But if we thrive, the glory of the action,
The meanest soldier here shall share his part of.
Advance your standards, draw your willing swords,
Sound drums and trumpets, boldly and cheerfully;
The words, "St. George, Richmond, and Victory!"
Shakspeare.

Speech of Rolla.

My brave associates-partners of my toil, my feelings and my fame! Can Rolla's words add vigour to the virtuous energies which inspire your hearts?-No;-you have judged as I have, the foulness of the crafty plea by which these bold invaders would delude you. Your generous spirit has compared, as mine has, the motives which, in a war like this, can animate their minds and ours.-They, by a strange frenzy driven, fight for power, for plunder, and extended rule; we, for our country, our altars, and our homes.-They follow an adventurer whom they fear, and obey a power which they hate; we serve a monarch whom we love,-a God whom we adore.-Whene'er they move in anger, desolation tracks their progress! Whene'er they pause in amity, affliction mourns their friendship.—They boast, they come but to improve our state, enlarge our thoughts, and free us from the yoke of error! Yes-they will give enlightened freedom to our minds, who are themselves the slaves of passion, avarice, and pride. They offer us their protection:-Yes, such protection as vultures give to lambs-covering and devouring them. They call on us to barter all of good we have inherited and proved, for the desperate chance of something better which they promise.-Be our plain answer this: The throne we honour is the people's choice;—the laws we rever

ence are our brave fathers' legacy;—the faith we follow teaches us to live in bonds of charity with all mankind, and die with hope of bliss beyond the grave.-Tell our invaders this, and tell them too, we seek no change; and least of all, such change as they would bring us. Sheridan's Pizarro,

The Soldier's Dream.

OUR bugles sang truce-for the night-cloud had lower'd,
And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky;
And thousands had sunk on the ground overpower'd—
The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.
When reposing that night on my pallet of straw,
By the wolf-scaring faggot that guarded the slain;
At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw,

And thrice ere the morning I dreamed it again.
Methought, from the battle-field's dreadful array,
Far, far I had roam'd on a desolate track;
'Twas autumn-and sunshine arose on the way

To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back.

I flew to the pleasant field, traversed so oft

In life's morning march, when my bosom was young; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft,

And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung.
Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore,
From my home and my weeping friends never to part;
My little ones kiss'd me a thousand times o'er,

And my wife sobb'd aloud in her fullness of heart,-
"Stay, stay with us-rest, thou art weary and worn;"
And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay-
But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn,
And the voice in my dreaming ears melted away.

Campbell,

Cato on the Immortality of the Soul.

IT must be so-Plato, thou reason'st well!
Else, whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,
This longing after Immortality?

Or, whence this secret dread, and inward horror,
Of falling into nought? Why shrinks the soul
Back on herself, and startles at destruction?-
'Tis the Divinity that stirs within us;

'Tis Heaven itself, that points out-an hereafter,
And intimates-Eternity to man.

Eternity!-thou pleasing-dreadful thought!
Through what variety of untried being,

Through what new scenes and changes must we pass!
The wide, the unbounded prospect lies before me,
But shadows, clouds, and darkness, rest upon it.
Here will I hold. If there's a Power above us-
And that there is, all Nature cries aloud

Through all her works-He must delight in virtue;
And that which he delights in, must be happy.

But when? or where? This world-was made for Cæsar. I'm weary of conjectures-this must end them.

[Laying his hand on his sword.] Thus I am doubly armed. My death and life, My bane and antidote, are both before me. This in a moment brings me to an end; But this informs me I shall never die! The soul, secured in her existence, smiles At the drawn dagger, and defies its point.The stars shall fade away, the sun himself Grow dim with age, and nature sink in years; But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth, Unhurt amidst the war of elements,

The wreck of matter, and the crash of worlds!

Addison.

Lodgings for Single Gentlemen.
WHO has e'er been in London, that overgrown place,

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Has seen
Lodgings to let," stare him full in the face:
Some are good and let dearly; while some, 'tis well known,
Are so dear, and so bad, they are best let alone.

WILL WADDLE, whose temper was studious and lonely,
Hired lodgings that took Single Gentlemen only;
But WILL was so fat, he appeared like a tun,--
Or like two SINGLE GENTLEMEN roll'd into ONE.
He enter'd his rooms, and to bed he retreated;
But all the night long he felt fever'd and heated;
And, though heavy to weigh, as a score of fat sheep,
He was not, by any means, heavy to sleep.

Next week 'twas the same! and the next! and the next!

He perspired like an ox; he was nervous,

and vex'd; Week pass'd after week, till, by weekly succession, His weakly condition was past all expression.

In six months his acquaintance began much to doubt him, For his skin, "like a lady's loose gown," hung about him. He sent for a Doctor, and cried, like a ninny,

"I have lost many pounds-make me well, there's a guinea." The Doctor look'd wise:-" a slow fever," he said: Prescribed sudorifics,-and going to bed.

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Sudorifics in bed," exclaimed WILL,

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are humbugs! I've enough of them there, without paying for drugs!" WILL kick'd out the Doctor;-but when ill indeed, E'en dismissing the Doctor don't always succeed; So, calling his host,-he said,-Sir, do you know, I'm the fat SINGLE GENTLEMAN, six months ago? "Look ye, landlord! I think," argued WILL with a grin, "That with honest intentions you first took me in: