on a moderate computation, to 400,000; and he conceived it probable, that they might considerably exceed that number. On balancing the account between the profits arising to government, and the damage accruing to the nation at large, he endeavours to prove, that a loss, little less than four millions, must yearly fall on the trading interest, and the revenues of Great Britain. Add to this, the damage sustained by the premature and untimely deaths of so many fellow-creatures, the loss is incalculable. Supposing, for the present, however, we only consider the loss of time, the loss of labour, and of money mispent in public-houses; can we wonder that our parishes are overburdened with poor; that our prisons overflow with insolvent debtors; or, that our poor-rates, which long ago amounted to the enormous sum of two millions a year should be rapidly increasing? Is it not high time, then, that some powerful check should be given to this alarming abuse of spirits, and that some more efficient, or economical, plan be adopted, which may prove more favourable to industry and sobriety? Should no means short of a total prohibition of them be found effectual, what ought to be the alternative? Ought the mere acquisition of revenue, arising from spirits, even for a moment, be suffered to stand in competition with the health and virtue of the community? or is there no method of supporting the revenue, but at the expence of population, property, and comthe great sources from whence revenue itself is derived, and to which it ought ever to be subservient. merce, THE LAWSUIT. "Well met!" I exclaimed, joyously, as I encountered my old college friend, Charles Morton, one morning in Oxford-street. 66 Why, Charles, looking on your happy countenance recalls the gladsome days of youth and merriment!" "Is mine indeed a happy countenance?" asked Morton, as, after a hearty shake, he withdrew his hand from mine; and he uttered the question in such an accent of bitter heartbrokenness that I involuntarily paused to look on him. There were still the same fine features-deep eye, aquiline nose, and lofty brow, which had gained for him in his youth the appellation of the handsome Morton;' but care had paled his cheek, and after I had gazed at him for a moment, I almost imagined that it had bowed his tall and graceful figure. "Charles," I uttered painfully, "you are ill."—" Yes my friend,"replied Morton with mournful earnestness, "I am indeed ill-sick at heart-a disease which knows no remedy." I asked the cause of his unhappiness. He felt that the question was one of friendship, not curiosity; and he told me of his sorrows like a man who had the miserable satisfaction of feeling, that although unfortunate, he was not degraded. He was an orphan, dependant on a rich and parsimonious relative. On leaving college, he had induced the only daughter of a wealthy baronet to elope with him, and her father had resented the action even to his death hour. Morton's uncle, with the caprice incident on avarice, bequeathed to him but a poor pittance, almost inadequate to the support of nature, and thus Charles, in a few short months, beheld the woman of his heart, in all save his affections-a beggar! He had been induced to mortgage his slender annuity, and to dispute the will of the lady's father. "I have done it," concluded Morton in a hollow tone; "I have become the victim of a lawsuit. Alicia and my boy are the sacrifices of my credulity-but till to day I madly clung to a hope, wild and chimerical enough to satisfy the raving fancy of a lunatic-and to day, one more merciful than his fellows, told me that there was no hope. In a few hours the fiat goes forth, and I am taught that utter ruin will be the result. For myself I care not-but Alicia, bred in affluence, the child of luxury and indulgence,❞—and he smote his brow, and trembled with the excess of his emotion. 66 "Do not despair while even a shadow of trust remains," I urged, gently, Charles, for Alicia's sake-for your son'syou must hope on; let us return to your wife, if you are thus moved, what must be her suffering?" A flush of the deepest crimson overspread the countenance of Morton; then bursting into a hysterical laugh, he himself directed my attention to it, as he exclaimed bitterly: "Do you not see how my impotent pride rushes to arms, when a friend would look on the wretchedness that will ere long be food for the cold eye of an unpitying world?—and yet-" 66 and he held me back a moment, and the glow of memory brightened his countenance and flashed in his dark eyes: 'You will not see Alicia as I have seen her-as she once was -as she will be no more!" The vision of present wretchedness darkened the tablet of memory, and with an expression of subdued feeling, he led me in silence to an obscure street, and finally to his miserable lodging: the creaking stairs gave notice of our approach to the young and heart-stricken wife, and on our entrance her eye at once eagerly sought and rested on her husband. Fair and beautiful as the Mahommedan houri, there was a cast of thought upon her fine face, that pictured to the heart the deprecating sadness of the recording angel when noting down the trespasses of man- her dress was homely even to wretchedness, but what had dress availed to such a face and form? The long braids of raven hair that pressed her forehead, were lost beneath a close cap of the purest white: her child played at her knee, plump and rosy, unconscious of present troubles, and thoughtless of those to come. Never did I bow so low before a titled beauty on a first meeting, as I did before the wife of Morton! On our entrance, Charles had thrown himself upon a chair, and with his face buried in his hands, sobbed aloud. Alicia was beside him her white arms encircled his neck-her lips prest his brow-I was forgotten! At length Morton raised his head, and his eye fell on me as I stood in the centre of the apartment. Alicia, speak to him," he murmured in an unearthly tone, "our own sorrows are enough; why should we spread their pestilence abroad?" She approached me, and at the moment Morton's child playfully clung to his knees-hurriedly he grasped the little innocent, and raising him up at arms length, he exclaimed ; Charles, unhappy victim of a father's weakness-you are a beggar!" Pleased with the rapidity of the motion, and the emphatic accents of his father, the import of which he guessed not, the child laughed gayly in his face. Morton could not bear this:--in a frenzy of emotion he would have rushed from the room; Alicia, like his guardian angel, held him back :she had not shed a tear; her bosom heaved wildly, and her cheek was deadly pale, but still she spoke with fearful calm ness. Alicia," said the unhappy Charles, as subdued by the violence of his own emotion, he remained passionately in her embrace, "why do you cling to me? have I not drawn the world's scorn down upon you?" "If the world indeed scorn us, my love," said the young wife, tenderly, "let us be every thing to each other, and the sting will be unfelt." At this moment a quick step was heard upon the stairsthe door yielded to the pressure of a heavy hand, and with a smile of honest joy upon his countenance, a man in a mean habit entered the room, 66 you have gained your cause, Mr. Morton," he uttered hastily-and I heard no more.-A wild laugh burst from the lips of Charles, and he strained the senseless form of his wife to his breast with frightful violence. I was slowly sauntering down Pall Mall but three days ago, when from the window of a handsome chariot a fair hand motioned my approach.-For a moment I looked incredulously at the lofty brow, kissed at intervals by a superb snow-white plume; at the raven hair hanging in glossy and luxuriant ringlets; at the mild dark eyes, gleaming with tempered brightness;-but, in the next instant, a large tear swelled in them. I was in doubt no longer it was Alicia; and as I extended my hand, her boy twined his little fingers around one of mine, and I drew my hat over my eyes to conceal my weakness. TO MY PARENTS. BY JOHN CLARE, THE NORTHAMPTONSHIRE PEASANT. Ah, little did I think in time that's past, By summer burnt, or numb'd by winter's blast, |