And Fancy's loveliest landscapes yield The upright man shall still be blest. • This has been recently illustrated in a very singular and interesting manner. A poor widow, who received relief from Birmingham workhouse, came to the house of Mr. U., a professional gentleman, whom she had never seen before, and told him she had dreamt that he could recover an estate for her poor children, which a person unjustly detained from them; and that, although this person knew he possessed the estate unlawfully, he said he would never give it up, and that it was impossible for her to get it, as she could not afford to pay for law, and no lawyer would undertake her cause without money. Mr. U., no less concerned for the interests of the poor woman and her family than for the honour of his profession, after he had inquired into the truth of her statement, entered with becoming spirit into the business, dispossessed the man who detained the estate from her, and made him refund the arrears, and pay the costs of the suit. The poor widow and her children are now in complete enjoyment of the property thus rescued from the hands of a villain, which amounts to upwards of forty pounds a year; and thus her dream is happily accomplished. TQ ΤΟ MR. GEORGE MAVOR. AND what to you, dear blithsome boy, What tho' too young for War's alarms, For Learning's or for Glory's charms; A dearer debt to you I Owe Than Camp or College can bestow. O when dark storms, on Winter's wing, Forbade the cheerless Bard to sing; When scarcely strung the chiiling lyre, Ere the verse froze upon the wire; When Fancy's stream refus'd to flow, And the dull thought congeal'd to snow; When, sharper than the cutting wind, A winter gather'd o'er the mind; When mental vapours, storm and cloud, Life's changeful atmosphere enshroud, And, folded in Misfortune's gloom, Silent I woo'd th' oblivious tomb: .... Or, still move dire, when pangs obtrude, And yet, dear GEORGE, immense the gain And what, gay laughter-loving boy, The The minutes and the months more sleck Than the young down upon your check; - Which makes you wish the task were done, The present are the days of glec, And, trust me, never shalt thou share What then is left to Friendship's Muse, Or in soft solitudes you stray Where Nature strews with flowers the way; Or cottager, where blossoms shroud; Or merchant, who, to fill the sails And waft his freight, invokes the gales; Or holy man, on some fair green Where you may lead a life serene In rectory snug, your patron near, Amidst good neighbours and good cheer, Where fat and fair, my buxom lad, You may be happy as your pad; And both together take the air May May Thetis' self her god implore In short, dear Youth, whate'er the plan In spite of cloud, and storm, and vapour, And give the pastime you give me! Grant this till fourscore years are o'er,- |