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The Church-yard.—KARAMSIN.
[From the Russian Anthology.]

First Voice.
How frightful the grave ! how deserted and drear !
With the howls of the storm-wind-the creaks of the bier,
And the white bones all clattering together!

Second Voice.
How peaceful the grave ! its quiet how deep:
Its zephyrs breathe calmly, and soft is its sleep,
And fowerets perfume it with ēther.

First Voice.
There riots the blood-crested worm on the dead,
And the yellow skull serves the foul toad for a bed,
And snakes in its nettle weeds hiss.

Second Voice.
How lovely, how sweet the repose of the tomb:
No tempests are there :-but the nightingales come
And sing their sweet chorus of bliss.

First Voice.
The ravens of night flap their wings o'er the grave:
'Tis the vulture's abode ;—'tis the wolf's dreary cave,
Where they tear up the earth with their fangs.

Second Voice.
There the cony* at evening disports with his love,
Or rests on the sod ;-while the turtles above,
Repose on the bough that o'erhangs.

First Voice.
There darkness and dampness with poisonous breath,
And loathsome decay, fill the dwelling of death;
The trees are all barren and bare !

Second Voice.
0, soft are the breezes that play round the tomb,
And sweet with the violet's wăfted perfume,
With lillies and jessamine fair.

* Pron. kúa'ay.

First Voice.

The pilgrim who reaches this valley of tears,
Would fain hurry by, and with trembling and fears,

He is lâunched on the wreck-covered river !

Second Voice.

The traveller, outworn with life's pilgrimage dreary,
Lays down his rude stăff, like one that is weary,

And sweetly reposes for ever.


The rich man and the poor man.—KHEMNITZER.

[From the same.] So goes the world ;—if wealthy, you may call This friend, that brother ;-friends and brothers all; Though you are worthless—witless-never mind it; You may have been a stable boy—what then ? 'Tis wealth, good Sir, makes honorable men. You seek respect, no doubt, and you will find it. But if you are poor, heaven help you! though your site Had royal blood within him, and though you Possess the intellect of angels too, 'Tis all in vain ;-the world will ne'er inquire On such a score :- Why should it take the pains ? 'Tis easier to weigh purses, sure, than brains. I once saw a poor fellow, keen and clever, Witty and wise :-he paid a man a visit, And no one noticed him, and no one ever Gave him a welcome. “Strange," cried I, “whence is it?"

He walked on this side, then on that,

He tried to introduce a social chat;
Now here, now there, in vain he tried ;
Some formally and freezingly replied,

And some
Said by their silence—“Better stay at home.”

A rich man burst the door,

As Cræsus rich, I'm sure
He could not pride himself upon his wit;
And as for wisdom he had none of it;

He had what's better; he had wealth.

What a confusion all stand up erect
These crowd around to ask him of his health ;

These bow in honest duty and respect;
And these arrānge a sofa or a chair,
And these conduct him there.
“ Allow me, Sir, the honor;'_Then a bow
Down to the earth—Is't possible to show
Meet gratitude for such kind condescension ?

The poor man hung his head,

And to himself he said, “This is indeed beyond my comprehension :"

Then looking round,

One friendly face he found,
And said—"Pray tell me why is wealth preferr’d
To wisdom ?"_"That's a silly question, friend!"
Replied the other—"have you never heard,

A man may lend his store

Of gold or silver ore,
But wisdom none can borrow, none can lend ?"


The abuses of Conscience.-

A Sermon.-STERNE.

Hebrews xiii. 18.

For we trust we have a good Conscience. “Trust!—Trust we have a good conscience !"

[Certainly Trim, quoth my father, interrupting him, you give that sentence a very improper accent; for you

curl your nose, man, and read it with such a sneering tone, as if the parson was going to abuse the Apostle.

He is, an't please your honor, replied Trim.
Pugh!* said my father, smiling

Sir, quoth Doctor Slop, Trim is certainly in the right; for the writer, (who I perceive is a Protestant by the snappish manner in which he takes up the Apostle,) is certainly going to abuse him ;-if this treatment of him has not done it already. But from whence, replied my father, have you concluded so soon, Doctor Slop, that the writer is of our church ?-for aught I can see yet-he may be of any

* Pron. pooh.

church.-Because, answered Doctor Slop, if he was of ours, -he durst no more take such a license, than a bear by his beard ;-If in our communion, Sir, a man was to insult an apostle.—a saint,—or even the paring of a saint's nail, - he would have his


scratched out. What, by the saint? quoth my uncle Toby. No, replied Doctor Slop, he would have an old house over his head. Pray is the inquisition an āncient building, answered my uncle Toby; or is it a modern one ?-I know nothing of architecture, replied Doctor Slop. An't please your honors, quoth Trim, the inquisition is the vilest—Prithee spare thy description, Trim, I hate the very name of it, said my father.—No matter for that, answered Doctor Slop, it has its uses; for though I'm no great advocate for it, yet in such a case as this, he would soon be taught better manners; and I can tell him, if he went on at that rate, would be flung into the inquisition for his pains. God help him then, quoth my uncle Toby. Amen, added Trim; for Heaven above knows, I have a poor brother who has been fourteen years a captive in it.— I never heard one word of it before, said my uncle Toby, hastily: How came he there Trim ?-0, Sir! the story will make your heart bleed, ,—as it has made mine a thousand times ;—the short of the story is this ;—That


brother Tom went over, a servant, to Lisbonand married a Jew's widow, who kept a small shop and sold sausages, which, some how or other, was the cause of his being taken in the middle of the night out of his bed, where he was lying with his wife and two small chil. dren, and carried directly to the inquisition, where, God help him, continued Trim, fetching a sigh from the bottom of his heart,—the


honest lad lies confined at this hour; he was as honest a soul, added Trim (pulling out his handkerchief,) as ever blood warmed.

-The tears trickled down Trim's cheeks faster than he could well wipe them away.-A dead silence in the room ensued for some minutes. Certain proof of pity! Come, Trim, quoth iny father, after he saw the poor fellow's grief had got a little vent,-read on,—and put this melancholy story out of thy head—I grieve that I interrupted thee: but prithee begin the sermon again ;-for if the first sentence in it is matter of abuse, as thou sayest, I have a great desire to know what kind of provocation the Apostle has given.

Corporal Trim wiped his face, and returned his handkerchief into his pocket, and, making a bow as he did it, -he began again.]


The Abuses of Conscience.-A Sermon.-STERNE.

Heb. xiii. 18.

For we trust we have a good Conscience.

"_Trust! Trust we have a good co science ! Surely, if there is any thing in this life which a man may depend upon, and to the knowledge of which he is capable of arriving upon the most indis'putable evidence, it must be this very thing,—whether he has a good conscience or no."

[I am positive I am right, quoth Dr. Slop.]

“ If a man thinks at all, he cannot well be stranger to the true state of this account ;-he must be privy to his own thoughts and desires-he must remember his past pursuits, and know certainly the true springs and motives, which in general have governed the actions of his life.” [I defy him, without an assistant, quoth Dr. Slop.]

“ In other matters we may be deceived by false appearances; and, as the wise man complains, hardly do we guess aright at the things that are upon the earth, and with labor do we find the things that are before us. But here the mind has all the evidence and facts within herself ;-is conscious of the web she has wove ;-knows its texture and fineness, and the exact share which every passion has had in working upon the several designs which virtue or vice has plan. ned before her."

[The language is good, and I declare Trim reads very well, quoth my father.]

“Now,-as conscience is nothing else but the knowledge which the mind has within herself of this; and the judge ment, either of approbation or censure which it unavoidably makes upon the successive actions of our lives ; it is plain, you will say, from the very terms of the proposition, --whenever this inward testimony goes against a man, and he stands self-accused,—that he must necessarily be a guilty man.-And, on the contrary, when the report is favorable on his side, and his heart condemns him not ;-that it is not a matter of trust, as the apostle intimates, but a matter of certainty, and the fact that the conscience is good, and that the man must be good also.”

[Then the apostle is altogether in the wrong, I suppose, quoth Dr. Slop, and the Protestant divine is in the right

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