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"I feel, however," said he, "more pity than indignation towards these offenders, since they were far greater enemies to themselves than to me. But there are a few outrageous ones, by whom I have been defrauded of so much of my substance, that it is difficult to think of them with patience, particularly that notorious thief Procrastination, of whom every body has heard, and who is well known to have wronged my venerable father of much of his property. There are also three noted ruffians, Sleep, Sloth, and Pleasure, from whom I have suffered much; besides a certain busybody called Dress, who, under pretence of making the most of me, and taking great care of me, steals away more of my gifts than any two of them.

"As for me, all must acknowledge that I have performed my part towards my friends and foes. I have fulfilled my utmost promise, and been more bountiful than many of my predecessors. My twelve fair children have, each in their turn, aided my exertions; and their various tastes and dispositions have all conduced to the general good. Mild February, who sprinkled the naked boughs with delicate buds, and brought her wonted offering of early flowers, was not of more essential service than that rude blustering boy, March, who, though violent in his temper, was well-intentioned and useful.-April, a gentle, tender-hearted girl, wept for his loss, yet cheered me with many a smile. June came crowned with roses, and sparkling in sunbeams, and laid up a store of costly ornaments for her luxuriant successors. But I cannot stop to enumerate the good qualities and graces of all my children. You, my poor December, dark in your complexion, and cold in your temper, greatly resemble my first-born January, with this difference, that he was most prone to anticipation, and you to reflection.

"If there should be any, who, upon hearing my dying lamentation, may feel regret that they have not treated me more kindly, I would beg leave to hint, that it is yet in their power to make some compensation for their past conduct, by rendering me, during my few

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remaining days, as much service as in their power; let them testify the sincerity of their sorrow by an immediate alteration in their behaviour. It would give me particular pleasure to see my only surviving child treated with respect let no one slight her offerings; she has a considerable part of my property still to dispose of, which, if well employed, will turn to good account. Not to mention the rest, there is one precious Sunday yet in her gift; it would cheer my last moments to know that this had been better prized than the past.

"It is very likely that, at least after my decease, many may reflect upon themselves for their misconduct towards me. To such I would leave it as my dying injunction, not to waste time in unavailing regret; all their wishes and repentance will not recall me to life. I shall never, never return! I would rather earnestly recommend to their regard my youthful successor, whose appearance is shortly expected. I cannot hope to survive long enough to introduce him; but I would fain hope that he will meet with a favourable reception; and that, in addition to the flattering honours which greeted my birth, and the fair promises which deceived my hopes, more diligent exertion, and more persevering efforts may be expected. Let it be remembered, that one honest endeavour is worth ten fair promises."

Having thus spoken, the Old Year fell back on his couch, nearly exhausted, and trembling so violently as to shake the last shower of yellow leaves from his canopy. Let us all hasten to testify our gratitude for his services, and repentance for the abuse of them, by improving the remaining days of his existence, and by remembering the solemn promises we made him in his youth. Rev. Dr. Henderson.

ITALY.

"Italia! oh Italia! thou who hast
The fatal gift of beauty”.

THE name of Italy is connected with many associations that are dear to the soul. Not with more enthusiasm did the crusaders visit the Holy Land than does the man of literature this classic clime. He cannot think of Virgil or Horace, Tasso, Ariosto, or him with the "hundred tales," or the visionary Dante, or the divine Petrarch, without conjuring up to his imagination this "land of sweet sounds," this paradise of the world. Nor is it less endeared, or become less interesting by the pilgrimages of men of modern times. Addison and Goldsmith, and the living bard whose genius has shed its departing rays over the remnants of its freedom, rush at once upon our minds when we think of Italy. The poet there takes his full draught of inspiration; and when contemplating the ruins of all that was once great and glorious in the earth, pausing as it were over the wrecks of time, and pondering ou the vanity of all things, insensibly imbibes the pervading spirit of its former greatness; and in describing the dim forms of old as they are shadowed to his imagination, his breast glows with a chivalrous ardour at their exploits, and he becomes at once a partaker of their pleasures and their immortality.

The richness and fertility of the soil, its abundance of cattle, the salubrity of the air, the endless variety of its fruits and flowers, its aromatic gums, its wine and oil, however beautiful they appear upon the face of the country, are not to be compared with the deep interest that is excited by its connexion with the mistress of the world. Rome, the queen of the nations whose ruins are now enshrined in the jewels of poesy Rome, the kingdom of the arts and sciences, whose literature was disseminated over the whole civilised worldRome, whose proud line of Cæsars are slumbering in the dust, and whose mighty consuls are no more

Rome, whose golden eagles glittered in the sunbeam, and extended their ambitious wings over the face of the earth-Rome still survives for the poet, the painter, the sculptor, and the enthusiast.

"While stands the Coliseum, Rome shall stand,

And while Rome stands-the world."

We cannot step even on the confines of Italy without being overshadowed and overwhelmed with the my steries of its mythology. Here Saturn reigned and gave the golden age-and two-faced Janus, who built up splendid temples, and reared the sacred altars. Here the nymphs and satyrs danced to the inspiring music of the timbrel-here Agrippa erected his noble fane to the honour of all the gods. The Tiber, with its golden sands, still flows; and is the same river which Horace describes as he saw it forced backward from the Tuscan shore ! We may even now stand upon the Capitoline-hill, and look down upon ruined Rome-the skeleton," as some author has expressed himself, of that gigantic form which was once terrible to the nations. Tradition still consecrates the name of Hannibal with the lake of Thrasymene, and there is an old circular ruin which the peasants still call "the Carthaginian's tower." The Egerian grot brings to our memory the fabled interview of Numa with the beautiful nymph, who, during her mighty visitations, instructed him to rule full well the Roman people. The springs over which she presided still bubble from among the pumice rocks, and trickle through the mosses and long grasses that flourish there.

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The swift Camilla scoured the plains of Italy, and opposed the landing of Æneas, who, having escaped from the dangers of the Trojan war, and the perils of the deep, by command of Venus here rested from his toils and founded a city. Here Pythagoras, after having travelled for knowledge to Egypt, and beyond the walls of Babylon, founded his school of philosophy, and taught the doctrine of the transmigration of souls. Nor should we forget Rome's founder, the son of

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warlike Mars, with the she wolf,' his nurse, whose story seemed so wondrous in our youth. The luxurious Ovid attached his name to the immortal city, when in the spirit of prophecy he divined the perpetuity of his fame, and shouted

"One half of round eternity is mine!"

Corinna, and the wanton Julia, and the chaste Virginia, and the vestal train who watched the vital fire, and Tullia, the proud parricide, and a numerous train of women, endeared by their virtues, or odious for their vices, rush over the memory when we think of Italy. Cato and Brutus, names dear to liberty, and Cicero, the parent of Roman eloquence, and what was still dearer to his honour and his virtues, the father of the Roman people. Poets, philosophers, historians, and orators, rise and pass in review before us with all their attributes, and in all their glory, and render Italy a country deservedly the most famous in the world. The Alps and the Appenines, and the now spouseless Adriatic,' and the Tyrrhene sea, names sacred to sweet song, will ever be remembered with the region they protect and adorn; and so long as the love of the fine arts maintains its influence over the mind of man, shall Italy be celebrated and had in remembrance above the other nations of the earth. She now stands "like Niobe in tears," but, beautiful in her melancholy, she will continue to be an object of reverential worship—a form of idolatry, by all those who have seen her marble statues, and to whom her paintings and her poesy are known.

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THE ISLAND OF CALYPSO.

SWEETEST island of the ocean, for ever memorable in the works of the great poets who have immortalized thy name, what reverence does thy memory inspire! Thou art associated in our imagination with the remembrance of the beautiful Calypso, the beloved of

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