reach of its vapours. It is a small grotto, about eight feet high, twelve long, and six broad; from the ground arises a thin, subtile, warm fume, visible enough to a discerning eye, which does not spring up in little particles here and there, but in one continued stream, covering the whole surface of the bottom of the cave; having this remarkable difference from common vapours, that it does not, like smoke, disperse into the air, but quickly after it rises falls back again, and returns to the earth, or hovers to a certain height, above which it never rises. This fact is ascertained by the colour of the sides of the grotto, which, as high as the vapour ascends, is of a darkish green, but above this it has only the appearance of common earth. As I found no inconvenience from standing in it myself, so I believe no animal, if its head were kept above this mark, would be in the least injured. But when, as is often the case, a dog, or any other creature, forcibly kept below it, or the animal is so small that it cannot hold its head above this noxious vapour, it presently loses all voluntary motion, falls down as dead, or in a Swoon; the limbs at first become convulsed and trembling, till at last no more signs of life appear, than a very weak and almost insensible beating of the heart and arteries; which, if the animal is left a little longer, quickly ceases also, and then its fate is irrevocable; but if it be snatched out and laid the air, it soon revives, and, if thrown into the adjacent lake, resuscitation is still more rapid. THE MORALIST. BY FREDERICK TYRRELL, ESQ. Let youth pluck the rose, and a wreath let him weave, But alas! he will find, when with me at the eve, The pluck'd rose is the classical emblem of death, It teaches how virtue embalmeth the breath, Fair Ladies see this withered flower, 'Twas once the garden's boasted pride, Anon. Each passer by in rapture gaz'd, Let not the pride of fashion's way That ere yon sun has sunk in night, Thou'rt young-but many young as thee By death are oft called hence; Then learn a moral from my tale, Let folly ne'er drown sense. There's time for thought, there's time for mirth, But one thing keep in mind, Let all thy doings ever be Good, innocent, or kind: Do no one harm, nor harm yourself, And from all vice keep clear. "Do unto others as you'd have And then the moral of my tale, Thus moralized an aged man, To two fair ladies, in whose charms, They thank'd him as they turn'd away, Each learnt a moral from his tale was obliged to go away again, upon finding that his servant had forgot to put a pair of breeches in his portmanteau. Between Adam and me the great difference is, Though a Paradise each has been forc'd to resign, That he never wore breeches till turn'd out of his, While for want of my breeches I'm banish'd from mine. Mr. Moore, it is well known, is the author of a volume published under the title of "Little's Poems;" which name; it is supposed, he adopted in allusion to his shortness of sta ture, and which furnished his friends with subjects for repar tees and epigrams in abundance. At this period, our bard was in the habit of paying frequent visits to Carlton House, when his present majesty, after a perusal of the volume in question, is reported to have addressed him thus wittily and briefly," More Little, Little Moore." The following lines made their appearance when he published his translation of Anacreon, and certainly boast much point: When Moore in amorous strains first sigh'd, The enraptur'd world enamour'd, cried, But, bursting from concealment's span, He found that yet he wanted Moore ! GREECE. A FRAGMENT. -SHE was soft and fair As any who are tenants for the grave; |