Oh, then, sweet spirit! from the realms above, Save one bright beam of heaven-descended light, HENRY DE CLIFFORD. FOR THE PORT FOLIO. SONNET TO STELLA, ON RECEIVING HER PICTURE. As oft with sad desponding soul, Life's darker, gloomier scenes I view, When grief's harsh tempests round me fly, H. D. C. ANECDOTE. JUST after a division in the House of Commons on a motion of Mr. Fox, a member who had been absent the whole day, came down to the house full of the grape. Whether it was to make amends for having played the truant, or whatever other motive we know not, but nothing could prevent the baronet from attempting to speak on the honourable member's second motion; but beginning with "Sir I am astonished," the claret drenched patriot could go no further. The house, however, did not discover the Baronet till he had repeated the verb astonished seven times, when a general merriment ensued. Sir George was offended at the levity of the members, and, asking if there was any thing ridiculous in the word, began again, "Sir, I say, I am astonished;" which repeating three or four times more the house was in the loudest roar of laughter. The baronet then appealed to the speaker, who pleasantly asked him what he would have him to do. The tipsy gentleman took fire at this, and declared he would not give up the word, "for I am really astonished, quite astonished that-I am astonished," and was proceeding; but, finding the bursts of laughter too strong for his obstinacy, he was induced, by the advice of his friends, after having mentioned the word astonished above a dozen times more, to change it for surprised, by which time having entirely forgotten what he intended to have said, he sat himself down. A MAN going into a barber's shop to be shaved, popped his head through one of the squares of the window which was made of oiled paper instead of glass, and asked, is the barber within. Strap, popping out his head throug another square, answered Just gone out, sir. AN Hibernian telling his friend that passing along the street he saw a person on the other side with whom he thought he was acquainted, said, I crossed to see him, I thought I knew him, and he thought he knew me; but by - it was neither one nor t'other of us. VARIETY. You shall not see a sailor, says a very quaint author, without a good large pair of silver buckles, though what he has about him else be altogether mean; the reason they give for it is that, in cases of shipwreck, they have something with them whereof to make money. Although the writer of this whimsical passage was a legitimate son of John Buyet we doubt exceedingly whether it be applicable to ritish tar; but we must confess, with the tears running down our cheeks, and with the most profound respect for our invaluable country, not forgetting dear Nancy New England, that sweetest of charmers, that any thing about him whereof to make money is finely descriptive of your Yankee sailor. THE COACHMAKER'S FAITH. See Shabby's coach along the village runs, Drawn by four scrubs, pursued by thrice four duns : Without all vanity, all vice within; The mob the gaudy pageant strikes; they gaze, And thy surpassing art, O Fielding, praise : In different views thy merit I explore, Thy works surprise me, but thy faith much more. AN author, whose works had been severely criticised in the Edinburgh Review, assured a friend that he wished, of all things, to write down that journal: then write in it, said his friend. Mr. Southey, with great good humour, thus adverts to the number of times of sufferance, when he has been cut up by the knife of the critical anatomist, from the butchers in the Critical Review, to the surgeons of Edinburgh. "An author is proof against reviewing, when, like myself, he has been reviewed above seventy times; but the opinion of a reviewer, upon a writer's first publication, has more effect, both upon his feelings and success, than it ought to have, or would have, if the mystery of the ungentle craft were more generally understood. The price of The Port Folio is six dollars per annum, PRINTED FOR BRADFORD AND INSKEEP, NO. 4, SOUTH THIRDSTREET, BY SMITH AND MAXWELL. |