ened visage. After a wild stare at me, he changed from the first expression of his countenance, and welcomed me. He asked me why I had come? I replied, that I had received his note, and brought him the money he had required. I sat down by him, and after a few incoherent sentences of complaint, and entreaty that I would not leave him, he burst into tears. tears. I soothed him, and replied to his repeated entreaties of "don't leave me," by promises of remaining with him, but told him we must leave that place. He agreed, but added, with vehemence, "Not back to his house-No, never! never!!"-which apparent resolution he confirmed , with vehement and reiterated oaths. The officer let me know that the gentleman had stopped the levying on the goods, and agreed to pay the quarter's rent. I was proceeding to make some inquiries, but Cooke, in the most peremptory tone, required that the money should be paid; as if fearing that his ability to fulfil his promise should be doubted by the bystanders. I paid the money, and demanded a receipt. The officer, who was nearly drunk, asked for the gentleman's christian name; when, with all the dignity of the buskin, the drooping hero raised his head, and roared out most discordantly," George Frederick! George Frederick Cooke!" The peculiar sharpness of the higher tones of his voice, joined to the unmelodious, broken, and croaking notes of debauchery, with his assumed dignity and squalid appearance, were truly comic, though pitiable. The receipt given by the officer, I will copy as a curiosity. Received New-York Febuary 19th 1811 of Gf Cook thirty four dollars and 75-100 In Full of a Landlords Warrant Due to Isaak Halsey For House Rent Due From the First Day of February Last In Full For House Rent Due & costs $34 75-100 MOSES SINGUER The combination of circumstances, flowing from causes as inevitable as they are unforeseen, makes of the sober record of real life such a relation of effects as a romance writer would not think of; or if his imagination suggested them, he would not present them to the public, for fear of the charge of improbable fiction. We here see a poor woman, a widow, with several children, supported by her industry, who is incapacitated by sickness from making those exertions on which the usual subsistence of the family depends; while want and its chilling train are the attendants upon the bed of sickness. Still some support remains while the necessary and commodious furniture of the house gives present comfort, and may, by future sale, aid in animating to exertion, and perhaps in restoring health. But quarter-day comes; and in the depth of an uncommonly hard winter, a harder, and a colder heart, sends its brutal and drunken ministers, armed by resistless authority, to tear away the curtain from the bed of the sick sufferer, and the blanket from the shivering victim of penury and neglect. This last blow is suspended but till the morrow; and the anxious mother lies, wakeful and heart-broken, watched by one of her children, who is preserved by health and inexperienced youth from the cares which waste her parent. In the mean time, revelling in sensuality, and overwhelmed by the good gifts of nature and of fortune, a man, who all his life seems to have been struggling to mar the good lavishly cast upon him, sallies out from every comfort of warmth and enjoyment, and is saved from death by the hospitable poverty of the widow's comfortless dwelling. In return, a portion of his superfluity is applied for her relief; the impending blow which would have probably destroyed the prostrate sufferer is warded off; and returning hope and health make the catastrophe of this "romance of real life" as cheerful as it threatened to be gloomy and heart-rending. After giving a five dollar note to the child who guided me to him, and making some other presents to members of the family, Mr. Cooke agreed to go to Bryden's in a sleigh, which I had previously sent for. He rose from his chair; his step was not steady, and some of the crowd offered to assist him; but he put them by with his hand, in a style of courtly contempt. He accepted my arm, but before we reached the door, stopped to wipe his face, and having lost the piece of dirty linen he had before used, he made inquiry for his handkerchief-it was not to be found; and I, fearing a change in his determination, and somewhat impatient of my own situation, offered him a white handkerchief, which I had put in my pocket but a few mintues before receiving his note, and which, after seeing the filthy rag he had been using, and displaying on his knee before the fire, I did not hesitate to present to him; but he put it aside with a most princely motion, saying, "A gentleman cannot accept a handkerchief that has been used." They say, that my unfeeling breast Ne'er felt love's pleasing, anxious smart; Was ne'er with doubts and fears opprest Nor sighed to win a woman's heart: And let them say Whate'er they may, I heed not censure now, nor praise: To seek with me the lowly shade ; —— Yes, I have felt that hallowed flame Which burns with constant, chaste desire I, too, have cherished long a name And witching wiles, Beguiled my heart of every pain; Ah! now her fairy reign is past, For youth's warm raptures now are o'er; Those visions all, too bright to last, Of love and joy, can charm no more! Some puny joys, To wear life's listless calm away; Come, then, whatever ills await, Though age sits hoary on my brow, Obscured by thee, Fair, lovely woman's charms decay!- Not one. Why, then, without a tear, THE VISIONARY. By W. R. Spencer. WHEN midnight o'er the moonless skies No bloodless shape my way pursues, The shade of youthful hope is there, With phantom honours at her side. What empty shadows glimmer nigh! They once were friendship, truth, and love! Since lifeless to my heart ye prove! ON MODERATION IN OUR PLEASURES. By Abou Alcassim Ebn Tabataba. "Tabataba deduced his pedigree from Ali Ben Abou Taleb, and Fatima, the daughter of Mohammed. "He was born at Ispahan, but passed the principal part of his life in Egypt, where he was appointed chief of the sheriffs, i. e. the descendants of the prophet, a dignity held in the highest veneration by every Mussulman. He died in the year of the Hejira 418, with the reputation of being one of the most excellent poets of his time." HOW oft does passion's grasp destroy But heightens and secures the rest. Wouldst thou a trembling flame expand, But if thy flask profusely sheds A rushing torrent o'er the blaze, |