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Trust not for freedom to the Franks-
They have a king that buys and sells :
In native swords, and native ranks,
The only hope of courage dwells;
But Turkish force, and Latin fraud,
Would break your shield, however broad.

Fill high the bowl with Samian wine!
Our virgins dance beneath the shade-
I see their glorious black eyes shine:
But gazing on each glowing maid,
My own the burning tear-drop laves,
To think such breasts must suckle slaves.

Place me on Sunium's marbled steep-
Where nothing, save the waves and I,
May hear our mutual murmurs sweep;
There, swan-like, let me sing and die:
A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine-
Dash down yon cup of Samian wine!

HOW TO GROW RICH.

It is not my business to discuss or pursue any nice abstract question in philosophy or metaphysics, which may arise in the progress of his history. I only record facts; and though it may be said that nothing can come of nothing, I have the means of proving beyond the possibility of cavil or dispute, that Peter Pellet, the new lord of Cwn Owen, did literally begin the world with nothing, nay, worse than nothing, having been born in the poor house in the parish of Keynsham, (between Bath and Bristol,) and bred up on the eleemosynary contributions of the parishioners of that place, until he was able to do in the world (as it is called) for himself. The little citizen bowed with as much humility to Mr. Geoffrey Owen, as if he had been selling a saucepan, instead of buying a castle: so habitual were the manners to which he stood indebted for the goods of fortune. The latter, in following up the suggestion which the peculiar circumstances of his situation had prompted, addressed Mr. Peter Pellet-"You appear to be a very fortunate man, sir, by your successful industry to have become the purchaser of this castle."

"Castle, quotha ?—yes, yes, I ask ye pardon—it was called a castle in the partic'lars of sale, and that were my main objection."

"Objection-How's that, sir ?"

"Why, I never see'd a castle that warn't a jail-I ask ye pardon-and so thinks I, a'rter all I've toiled and laboured-and owed no man a farden-it's but a bad job to buy oneself into jail, that's a good 'un-aynt it—but la-they laughed at me, and said e'ery man's house was a castle in this country; so I made no more ado, but bought it out and out, as the saying is—I ask ye pardon."

"My pardon! For what, sir?"

"O! that's my way-I beg ye-I mean that's my way, all as I may say in the way of business. It takes hugely. Two cus

tomers together-can't answer both-ask pardon of one—serve the other. Why, sir, it tells in a sight of ways; make a small mistake in a bill-beg your pardon, sir-man tells a little bit of a lie, saving your presence, must beg your pardon sir. It's all one, always handy-so got into it, and so can't get out of itthat's good-an't it?"

"Thou art a humourist, Mr. Pellet."

"Anan ?-Oh humourist, well enough at home, that is-to wife and brats-he! he! ask ye pardon—that won't do in trade -be in good humour with all-you're an ass, says a testy fellow -beg your pardon, sir-I'll knock you down, sirrah-bow the lower; ask pardon again, and he begins to cheapen."

"Thou art at least a politician," smiled Geoffrey.

"Ask ye pardon-never more out in your life-never knew a politician make a fortin in my born life-always steered clear of them there things. Vote for my friend, Mr. Kingsman, says one-beg your pardon, sir, I can't promise. Vote for Mr. Crop, says another-beg pardon, don't mean to vote at all."

"So you surrender your privilege on the score of prudence." "Why-lauk, never voted but once for a parliament-man, and got enough of it then-never vote again. Why, sir, I ask—I mean, I got a large commission for the Russey market-house failed-fobbed off with two and sixpence in the pound-and lost a venter to Boney's Haris, by giving offence to Alderman Totherside--which neighbour Twostringit took up, and made several hundred pounds hard cash by."

"Rather hard upon you, Mr. Pellet, as you voted so conscientiously."

66 Ay, y, ay, that's all gammon-what's conscience got to do with voting for a parliament-man? Never see him again, ten to one -never get nothing out of him a'terwards, unless so be when he's served his seven years-out of his time, as we call it--hey! good-weigh him in his balance again."

"Well, sir, what I would ask of you," said Mr Geoffrey Owen, interrupting his loquacity, "supposing a man like myself were to enter business, what is the first step."

"The first step-into a good business, to be sure-hey!

"I'm not disposed to trifle, Mister Pellet; I ask you a serious question, and desire you to inform me what measures it would be necessary for me to take in order to become a man of busi

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"You! he, he, that's a good one-ask ye pardon, thou❜lt make an odd figure behind a counter!"

"A counter, sirrah!" ejaculated Geoffrey.

"Why, how wilt carry on business without a counter, I should like to know, that's a good un, an't it! thee'st not up to business, I take it."

"It is on that account I apply to you, sir; you are now in possession of the last remaining property of an ancient family, the castle of my forefathers."

"Four fathers! that's a good one, an't it! now this comes of being of a great old family!"

"What, sir!"

"What! why, to ha' four fathers, when I remember it was a joke agen me, as I had ne'er an one."

"Very likely, Mr. Pellet, I speak of those from whom this castle came down to me."

"Odds boddikins, I wonder it hadn't come down upon them long ago, he, he! Its a tumble down piece o' rubbish, and I dare to say, when we comes to overhaul the timbers, they'll be"

"D--n the timbers, sir, speak to the point, and answer my plain question, how a man like yourself (eyeing the hardwareman somewhat too superciliously) could rise from small beginnings into comparative affluence."

66

Nothing to be done without a counter, I can tell thee, or without sticking to it-aye, sticking to it-I ask ye pardon.

66 Psha, with what capital did you start in business, man?" "Capital! come, that's a good one, hey! ask your pardon, thank God, I hadn't a brass sixpence to cross myself with, should'nt have been here now, buying castles, as thee call'st 'em -no, no,-never knew any body do good in business as begun with any thing."

66

Why, confound the man! how could you get a house, a shop, a hovel, without money?

"Don't be angry, ask ye pardon, got first into a good shop." "But, how-how-that's what I want to know."

"How!-Why by sweeping my way."

"Sweeping! what?"

"The shop, to be sure."

"Take your own way, sir."

"And so I did, and the best way, so on I goes from sweeping to trampling."

"Trampling !"

"To be sure, trampling a'ter master's customers wi' parcels and such like, and doing little odds and ends of 'omissions." "Well, sir, you seem to have taken your degrees."

"Degrees! there's no getting on in any other guess manner; so after that, I got on to scraping."

66

Making up your capital, I presume."

"Lord love ye, no such thing, never thought of capital-always running in thy head, ask ye pardon-scraping my master's door, and putting the best leg foremost, as we have it ;" which the honest trader illustrated by making a series of very profound flexions of the body.

"And pray, sir," asked the almost exhausted Mr. Geoffrey Owen, "what did that do for you?"

"Do! make friends."

"How ?"

"By booing and civility."

"Servility, thou meanest

"Ye; civility, I mean."

"Your advances were slow at least."

"Slow! should like to see thee get on as fast-ask ye pardon, I began to climb like smoke."

"Climb! creep, you would say."

"I would say no such thing, for I should lie, ask ye pardon, I climbed to the garret-first housed, then lodged, then fed as shopman."

"That was a jump indeed," observed Geoffrey rather contemptuously."

"Nothing to the next."

"What, higher than the garret."

"Higher, a mile-hop, step, and as we has it-from the off side to the near side of the counter."

"In what manner."

"My own manner, to be sure-master liked my manner, missis liked my manner, customers liked my manner, so they put me on my prefarment, and I riz to be foreman."

"And how did'st thou rise above the counter."

"Above the counter! that's a good un, an't it ?-Why Lord love ye, I could not rise higher, it is the nonplush, as we has it— where the dickons would'st thee ha' me go? There I stuck, for nobody could move me, 'till I growed to it, like a nailed Brummegem; and it's the awkwardest thing in life to me to go without it.".

"I mean to ask, how didst thou rise from the situation of a foreman, to that of master? For such I presume thou wert." Popped into master's shoes."

66

"By what means?"

"He died one day-popt to his widow-she jumped at itcarried on the concern, and pocketed the old boy's savings as well as my own. He! he! that's a good un an't it?"

"For thee, a very good one, friend; I see I shall make no progress in thy school."

"No; don't look cut out for it; can't give ye much encouragement-can't bend thee body enough-too upright."

"I fear so indeed," groaned Geoffrey.

"You maun creep first before you can climb, as we say ; besides, too rich, too rich; I beg pardon, he !"

"Dost thou mean to insult my poverty, sir?"

“Oh lud, not I ; ask ye pardon: say 'gain too rich." "Why, sir, I have not fifteen hundred pounds in the world." "Fifteen hundred! too much, too much! why, ye can't begin sweeping with such a sum in your pocket."

"Sweeping! why, thou dar'st not imagine

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"Oh! not I-beg pardon, don't imagine any such thing; only if don't begin by sweeping, can't climb after my manner, that's all; and good lack! All men's not made for all things, as I heard the famous Zekel Patterface, at Redcliffe church say -you ha'nt the manner, the figure, the

"Dost thou laugh at me, sirrah?"

"Laugh! not I, the Lord love ye, it's no laughing matter, I can tell ye. Wouldn't say nothing to disparage ye; 'tisn't thee fault-nater made us as we be,-can't all rise to the top ;ben't all born to fortin."

DEATH-SCENE IN GERTRUDE OF WYOMING.

BUT short that contemplation-sad and short
The pause to bid each much-loved scene adieu!

Beneath the very shadow of the fort,

Where friendly swords were drawn, and banners flew,
Ah! who could deem that foot of Indian crew
Was near?-yet there, with lust of murderous deeds,
Gleam'd like a basilisk, from woods in view,
The ambush'd foeman's eye-his volley speeds,

And Albert-Albert-falls! the dear old father bleeds!

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