ARGUMENT.

The post comes in. The newspaper is read. The world contemplated at a distance. Address to Winter. The rural amusements of a winter evening compared with the fashionable ones. Address to Evening. A brown study. Fall of snow in the evening. The wagoner. A poor family piece. The rural thief. Public houses. The multitude of them censured. The farmer's daughter: what she was, what she is. The simplicity of country manners almost lost. Causes of the change. Desertion of the country by the rich. Neglect of magistrates. The militia principally in fault. The new recruit and his transformation. Reflection on bodies corporate. The love of rural objects natural to all, and never to be totally extinguished.

THE MAIL. THE POSTMAN AND HIS BUDGET.

[locks;

HARK! 't is the twanging horn o'er yonder bridge,
That with its wearisome but needful length
Bestrides the wintry flood, in which the moon
Sees her unwrinkled face reflected bright;
He comes, the herald of a noisy world,
With spattered boots, strapped waist, and frozen
News from all nations lumbering at his back.
True to his charge, the close-packed load behind,
Yet careless what he brings, his one concern
Is to conduct it to the destined inn ;

And, having dropped the expected bag, pass on.
He whistles as he goes, light-hearted wretch,
Cold and yet cheerful messenger of grief
Perhaps to thousands, and of joy to some;
To him indifferent whether grief or joy.
Houses in ashes, and the fall of stocks,
Births, deaths, and marriages, epistles wet
With tears, that trickled down the writer's cheeks
Fast as the periods from his fluent quill,

Or charged with amorous sighs of absent swains,
Or nymphs responsive, equally affect
His horse and him, unconscious of them all.

THE NEWS,' FOREIGN AND DOMESTIC.
But, 0, the important budget! ushered in
With such heart-shaking music, who can say
What are its tidings? have our troops awaked?
Or do they still, as if with opium drugged,
Snore to the murmurs of the Atlantic wave?
Is India free? and does she wear her plumed
And jewelled turban with a smile of peace,
Or do we grind her still? The grand debate,
The popular harangue, the tart reply,
The logic, and the wisdom, and the wit,
And the loud laugh — I long to know them all;
I burn to set the imprisoned wranglers free,
And give them voice and utterance once again.

THE COMFORTABLE WINTER EVENING FIRESIDE. — THE THEATRE. PARLIAMENT.

Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast,

Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round,
And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn
Throws up a steamy column, and the cups,
That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each,
So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
Not such his evening, who with shining face
Sweats in the crowded theatre, and, squeezed
And bored with elbow-points through both his sides,
Outscolds the ranting actor on the stage:

Nor his, who patient stands till his feet throb,
And his head thumps, to feed upon the breath
Of patriots, bursting with heroic rage,
Or placemen, all tranquillity and smiles.

THE NEWSPAPER DESCRIBED. A MAP OF LIFE.

This folio of four pages, happy work!
Which not even critics criticize; that holds
Inquisitive attention, while I read,
Fast bound in chains of silence, which the fair,
Though eloquent themselves, yet fear to break;
What is it, but a map of busy life,

Its fluctuations, and its vast concerns?
Here runs the mountainous and craggy ridge
That tempts ambition.

THE POLITICAL ASPIRANT. THE SUPPLE DEMAGOGUE.

On the summit see

The seals of office glitter in his eyes;
He climbs, he pants, he grasps them! At his heels,
Close at his heels, a demagogue ascends,

And with a dexterous jerk soon twists him down,
And wins them, but to lose them in his turn.
THE POLITICIAN'S MOCK MODESTY.

Here rills of oily eloquence in soft
Meanders lubricate the course they take;
The modest speaker is ashamed and grieved
To engross a moment's notice; and yet begs,
Begs a propitious ear for his poor thoughts,
However trivial all that he conceives.
Sweet bashfulness! it claims at least this praise;
The dearth of information and good sense,
That it foretells us, always come to pass.

VARIED CONTENTS OF THE NEWSPAPER. —A MEDLEY,

Cataracts of declamation thunder here;
There forests of no meaning spread the page,
In which all comprehension wanders lost;
While fields of pleasantry amuse us there
With merry descants on a nation's woes.
The rest appears a wilderness of strange
But gay confusion; roses for the cheeks,
And lilies for the brows, of faded age;

Teeth for the toothless, ringlets for the bald,
Heaven, earth, and ocean, plundered of their sweets,
Nectareous essences, Olympian dews,
Sermons, and city feasts, and favorite airs,
Ethereal journeys, submarine exploits,
And Katerfelto, with his hair on end

At his own wonders, wondering for his bread.

A PEEP AT THE WORLD FROM THE LOOP-HOLES OF A COUNTRY RETREAT.

'Tis pleasant through the loop-holes of retreat To peep at such a world; to see the stir Of the great Babel, and not feel the crowd; To hear the roar she sends through all her gates At a safe distance, where the dying sound Falls a soft murmur on the uninjured ear. Thus sitting, and surveying thus at ease The globe and its concerns, I seem advanced To some secure and more than mortal height, That liberates and exempts me from them all.

THE RURAL PHILOSOPHER RETAINS HUMAN SYMPATHIES, WITHOUT BEING BETRAYED BY HUMAN PASSIONS.

It turns submitted to my view, turns round
With all its generations; I behold

The tumult, and am still. The sound of war
Has lost its terrors ere it reaches me;
Grieves, but alarms me not. I mourn the pride
And avarice, that make man a wolf to man;
Hear the faint echo of those brazen throats,
By which he speaks the language of his heart,
And sigh, but never tremble at the sound.

VOYAGES AND TRAVELS AT HOME.

He travels and expatiates, as the bee
From flower to flower, so he from land to land;
The manners, customs, policy, of all
Pay contribution to the store he gleans;
He sucks intelligence in every clime,
And spreads the honey of his deep research
At his return-a rich repast for me.
He travels, and I too. I tread his deck,
Ascend his topmast, through his peering eyes
Discover countries, with a kindred heart
Suffer his woes, and share in his escapes;
While fancy, like the finger of a clock,
Runs the great circuit, and is still at home.

APOSTROPHE TO WINTER.

O Winter, ruler of the inverted year,
Thy scattered hair with sleet-like ashes filled,
Thy breath congealed upon thy lips, thy cheeks
Fringed with a beard made white with other snows
Than those of age, thy forehead wrapped in clouds,
A leafless branch thy sceptre, and thy throne

A sliding car, indebted to no wheels,
But urged by storms along its slippery way,
I love thee, all unlovely as thou seem'st,
And dreaded as thou art!

WINTER A SOVEREIGN DISPENSER OF HOME PLEASURES; WIN-
TER EVENINGS.

Thou hold'st the sun

A prisoner in the yet undawning east,

1 A famous juggler and conjurer of the day.

Shortening his journey between morn and noon,
And hurrying him, impatient of his stay,
Down to the rosy west; but kindly still
Compensating his loss with added hours
Of social converse and instructive ease,
And gathering, at short notice, in one group,
The family dispersed, and fixing thought,
Not less dispersed by daylight and its cares.
I crown thee king of intimate delights,
Fireside enjoyments, home-born happiness,
And all the comforts that the lowly roof
Of undisturbed retirement, and the hours
Of long-uninterrupted evening, know.

CITY POMPS AND DISSIPATIONS. OCCUPATIONS AT THE

COUNTRY HEARTH-STONE.

No rattling wheels stop short before these gates; No powdered, pert proficient in the art

Of sounding an alarm assaults these doors
Till the street rings; no stationary steeds
Cough their own knell, while, heedless of the sound,
The silent circle fan themselves, and quake:

NEEDLE-WORK.

But here the needle plies its busy task, The pattern grows, the well-depicted flower, Wrought patiently into the snowy lawn, Unfolds its bosom; buds, and leaves, and sprigs, And curling tendrils, gracefully disposed, Follow the nimble finger of the fair;

A wreath that cannot fade, or flowers that blow With most success when all besides decay.

READING ALOUD TO THE FAMILY CIRCLE; MUSIC.

The poet's or historian's page by one Made vocal for the amusement of the rest ; The sprightly lyre, whose treasure of sweet sound The touch from many a trembling chord shakes out; And the clear voice symphonious, yet distinct, And in the charming strife triumphant still; Beguile the night, and set a keener edge On female industry: the threaded steel Flies swiftly, and unfelt the task proceeds.

THE RURAL SUPPER.

The volume closed, the customary rites
Of the last meal commence. A Roman meal;
Such as the mistress of the world once found
Delicious, when her patriots of high note,
Perhaps by moonlight, at their humble doors,
And under an old oak's domestic shade,
Enjoyed, spare feast! a radish and an egg.

FAMILY CONVERSATION. MIRTH CHASTENED BY PIETY.

Discourse ensues, not trivial, yet not dull,
Nor such as with a frown forbids the play
Of fancy, or proscribes the sound of mirth :
Nor do we madly, like an impious world,
Who deem religion frenzy, and the God
That made them an intruder on their joys,
Start at His awful name, or deem His praise
A jarring note.

PROVIDENCES

ESPECIALLY IN OUR SPIRITUAL PROGRESS.
Themes of a graver tone,

Exciting oft our gratitude and love,
While we retrace with Memory's pointing wand,
That calls the past to our exact review,

The dangers we have 'scaped, the broken snare,
The disappointed foe, deliverance found
Unlooked for, life preserved, and peace restored,
Fruits of omnipotent, eternal Love.

Q evenings worthy of the gods! exclaimed
The Sabine bard. O evenings, I reply,
More to be prized and coveted than yours,
As more illumined, and with nobler truths,
That I, and mine, and those we love, enjoy.

THE THEATRE NOT NECESSARY TO THE ENJOYMENT OF THE
WINTER EVENING.

Is Winter hideous in a garb like this?
Needs he the tragic fur, the smoke of lamps,
The pent-up breath of an unsavory throng,
To thaw him into feeling; or the smart
And snappish dialogue, that flippant wits
Call comedy, to prompt him with a smile?
The self-complacent actor, when he views
(Stealing a sidelong glance at a full house)
The slope of faces from the floor to the roof
(As if one master-spring controlled them all),
Relaxed into a universal grin,

Sees not a countenance there that speaks of joy
Half so refined or so sincere as ours.

CARDS UNNECESSARY. THE WINGS OF TIME.

Cards were superfluous here, with all the tricks That idleness has ever yet contrived To fill the void of an unfurnished brain, To palliate dulness, and give time a shove. Time, as he passes us, has a dove's wing, Unsoiled, and swift, and of a silken sound; But the world's time is time in masquerade! Theirs, should I paint him, has his pinions fledged With motley plumes; and, where the peacock shows His azure eyes, is tinctured black and red With spots quadrangular of diamond form, Ensanguined hearts, clubs typical of strife, And spades, the emblem of untimely graves.

DICE. BILLIARDS. FASHION.

What should be and what was an hour-glass once, Becomes a dice-box, and a billiard-mace Well does the work of his destructive scythe. Thus decked, he charms a world whom fashion blinds

To his true worth, most pleased when idle most; Whose only happy are their wasted hours.

THE PRECOCIOUSLY FASHIONABLE MISS.

Even misses, at whose age their mothers wore
The backstring and the bib, assume the dress
Of womanhood, fit pupils in the school
Of card-devoted time; and night by night,
Placed at some vacant corner of the board,
Learn every trick, and soon play all the game.

But truce with censure. Roving as I rove,
Where shall I find an end, or how proceed?

FASHIONABLE FOLLIES. A SIMILE.

As he that travels far oft turns aside To view some rugged rock or mouldering tower, Which seen delights him not; then coming home Describes and prints it, that the world may know How far he went for what was nothing worth; So I, with brush in hand and palette spread, With colors mixed for a far different use, Paint cards, and dolls, and every idle thing, That fancy finds in her excursive flights.

DESCRIPTIVE APOSTROPHE TO EVENING. THE EVENING STAR. -THE MOON.

Come, Evening, once again, season of peace!
Return, sweet Evening, and continue long!
Methinks I see thee in the streaky west,
With matron step slow moving, while the Night
Treads on thy sweeping train; one hand employed
In letting fall the curtain of repose

On bird and beast, the other charged for man
With sweet oblivion of the cares of day:
Not sumptuously adorned, not needing aid,
Like homely-featured Night, of clustering gems;
A star or two, just twinkling on thy brow,
Suffices thee; save that the moon is thine
No less than hers, not worn indeed on high
With ostentatious pageantry, but set
With modest grandeur in thy purple zone,
Resplendent less, but of an ampler round.

CALM COMPOSURE THE GIFT OF EVENING. — THE LIGHTED
DRAWING-ROOM.

Come, then, and thou shalt find thy votary calm. Or make me so. Composure is thy gift: And, whether I devote thy gentle hours To books, to music, or the poet's toil, To weaving nets for bird-alluring fruit, Or twining silken threads round ivory reels, When they command whom man was born to please, I slight thee not, but make thee welcome still. Just when our drawing-rooms begin to blaze With lights, by clear reflection multiplied From many a mirror, in which he of Gath, Goliah, might have seen his giant bulk Whole without stooping, towering crest and all, My pleasures too begin.

PARLOR TWILIGHT. VISIONS IN THE EMBERS; SIGNS ON THE
SOOT.

But me perhaps
The glowing hearth may satisfy a while
With faint illumination, that uplifts
The shadows to the ceiling, there by fits
Dancing uncouthly to the quivering flame.
Not undelightful is an hour to me

So spent in parlor twilight: such a gloom
Suits well the thoughtful or unthinking mind,
The mind contemplative, with some new theme
Pregnant, or indisposed alike to all.

Laugh ye, who boast your more mercurial powers,

That never felt a stupor, know no pause,
Nor need one; I am conscious, and confess,
Fearless, a soul that does not always think.
Me oft has fancy ludicrous and wild
Soothed with a waking dream of houses, towers,
Trees, churches, and strange visages, expressed
In the red cinders, while with poring eye
I gazed, myself creating what I saw.
Nor less amused have I quiescent watched
The sooty films, that play upon the bars
Pendulous, and foreboding in the view
Of superstition, prophesying still,
Though still deceived, some stranger's near ap-

REVERY A REPOSE OF THE MIND.

'Tis thus the understanding takes repose In indolent vacuity of thought,

[proach.

And sleeps, and is refreshed. Meanwhile the face
Conceals the mood lethargic with a mask
Of deep deliberation, as the man

Were tasked to his full strength, absorbed and lost.
Thus oft, reclined at ease, I lose an hour
At evening, till at length the freezing blast,
That sweeps the bolted shutter, summons home
The recollected powers; and snapping short
The glassy threads with which the fancy weaves
Her brittle toils, restores me to myself.

COMFORT WITHIN; THE STORM WITHOUT.-SCENERY BEFORE THE FIRST SNOW.

How calm is my recess, and how the frost, Raging abroad, and the rough wind, endear The silence and the warmth enjoyed within! I saw the woods and fields at close of day A variegated show ; the meadows green, Though faded; and the lands, where lately waved The golden harvest, of a mellow brown, Upturned so lately by the forceful share. I saw far off the weedy fallows smile With verdure not unprofitable, grazed By flocks, fast feeding, and selecting each His favorite herb; while all the leafless groves That skirt the horizon wore a sable hue, Scarce noticed in the kindred dusk of eve.

THE FIRST SNOW-STORM.

To-morrow brings a change, a total change! Which even now, though silently performed, And slowly, and by most unfelt, the face Of universal nature undergoes. Fast falls a fleecy shower: the downy flakes Descending, and with never-ceasing lapse, Softly alighting upon all below, Assimilate all objects. Earth receives Gladly the thickening mantle; and the green And tender blade, that feared the chilling blast, Escapes unhurt beneath so warm a veil.

PATIENCE AND SYMPATHY.

In such a world, so thorny, and where none Finds happiness unblighted; or, if found, Without some thistly sorrow at his side;

It seems the part of wisdom, and no sin
Against the law of love, to measure lots
With less distinguished than ourselves; that thus
We may with patience bear our moderate ills,
And sympathize with others suffering more.

TRAVELLING THROUGH THE SNOW.

Ill fares the traveller now, and he that stalks In ponderous boots beside his reeking team. The wain goes heavily, impeded sore By congregated loads adhering close To the clogged wheels; and in its sluggish pace Noiseless appears a moving hill of snow. The toiling steeds expand the nostril wide, While every breath, by respiration strong Forced downward, is consolidated soon Upon their jutting chests.

THE TEAMSTER; BLEST WITH HARDIHOOD. He, formed to bear The pelting brunt of the tempestuous night, With half-shut eyes, and puckered cheeks, and teeth Presented bare against the storm, plods on. One hand secures his hat, save when with both He brandishes his pliant length of whip, Resounding oft, and never heard in vain. O happy! and in my account denied That sensibility of pain, with which Refinement is endued, thrice happy thou! Thy frame, robust and hardy, feels indeed The piercing cold, but feels it unimpaired. The learned finger never need explore Thy vigorous pulse; and the unhealthful East, That breathes the spleen, and searches every bore Of the infirm, is wholesome air to thee.

HUMANITY TO TEAMS IN WINTER.

Thy days roll on exempt from household care;
Thy wagon is thy wife; and the poor beasts,
That drag the dull companion to and fro,
Thine helpless charge, dependent on thy care,
Ah, treat them kindly! rude as thou appear'st,
Yet show that thou hast mercy! which the great,
With needless hurry whirled from place to place,
Humane as they would seem, not always show.

THE COTTAGE LABORERS IN WINTER. THEIR SCANTY FUEL.
Poor, yet industrious, modest, quiet, neat,
Such claim compassion in a night like this,
And have a friend in every feeling heart.
Warmed, while it lasts, by labor, all day long
They brave the season, and yet find at eve,
Ill clad and fed but sparely, time to cool.
The frugal housewife trembles when she lights
Her scanty stock of brushwood, blazing clear,
But dying soon, like all terrestrial joys.
The few small embers left she nurses well;
And, while her infant race, with outspread hands,
And crowded knees, sit cowering o'er the sparks,
Retires, content to quake, so they be warmed.
The man feels least, as more inured than she
To Winter, and the current in his veins

More briskly moved by his severer toil; Yet he too finds his own distress in theirs.

SCANTY LIGHTS AND SCANTY FARE OF THE HONEST POOR. — THEIR RESPECTABILITY.

The taper soon extinguished, which I saw Dangled along at the cold finger's end

Just when the day declined; and the brown loaf
Lodged on the shelf, half-caten without sauce

Of savory cheese, or butter, costlier still;
Sleep seems their only refuge for, alas!
Where penury is felt the thought is chained,
And sweet colloquial pleasures are but few.
With all this thrift they thrive not. All the care
Ingenious parsimony takes but just

Saves the small inventory, bed, and stool,
Skillet, and old carved chest, from public sale.
They live, and live without extorted alms

From grudging hands; but other boast have none,
To soothe their honest pride, that scorns to beg,
Nor comfort else, but in their mutual love.

PRISON CRIMINALS AND PAUPERS OFTEN BETTER FED THAN THE INDUSTRIOUS POOR.

I praise you much, ye meek and patient pair,

For ye are worthy; choosing rather far

A dry but independent crust, hard earned
And eaten with a sigh, than to endure
The rugged frowns and insolent rebuffs
Of knaves in office, partial in the work
Of distribution; liberal of their aid
To clamorous importunity in rags,
But ofttimes deaf to suppliants who would blush
To wear a tattered garb, however coarse,
Whom famine cannot reconcile to filth :
These ask with painful shyness, and, refused
Because deserving, silently retire !

THE POOR ENCOURAGED. TRUE CHARITY.

But be ye of good courage! Time itself Shall much befriend you. Time shall give increase; And all your numerous progeny, well trained But helpless, in few years shall find their hands, And labor too. Meanwhile ye shall not want What, conscious of your virtues, we can spare, Nor what a wealthier than ourselves may send. I mean the man who, when the distant poor Need help, denies them nothing but his name.

SLOTH AND WASTE CHIEFLY ORIGINATE BEGGARY AND

THIEVING.

But poverty with most, who whimper forth Their long complaints, is self-inflicted woe; The effect of laziness or sottish waste. Now goes the nightly thief prowling abroad For plunder; much solicitous how best He may compensate for a day of sloth By works of darkness and nocturnal wrong.

STEALING FRUIT.

Woe to the gardener's pale, the farmer's hedge, Plashed neatly, and secured with driven stakes Deep in the loamy bank. Uptorn by strength, Resistless in so bad a cause, but lame

To better deeds, he bundles up the spoil,
An ass's burden, and, when laden most
And heaviest, light of foot steals fast away.
Nor does the boarded hovel better guard
The well-stacked pile of riven logs and roots
From his pernicious force.

ROBBING OF HEN-ROOSTS.

Nor will he leave Unwrenched the door, however well secured, Where Chanticleer amidst his harem sleeps In unsuspecting pomp. Twitched from the perch, He gives the princely bird, with all his wives, To his voracious bag, struggling in vain, And loudly wondering at the sudden change.

INTEMPERANCE, THE CRUEL CURSE.

Nor this to feed his own. "T were some excuse,
Did pity of their sufferings warp aside
His principle, and tempt him into sin
For their support, so destitute. But they
Neglected pine at home; themselves, as more
Exposed than others, with less scruple made
His victims, robbed of their defenceless all.
Cruel is all he does. "Tis quenchless thirst
Of ruinous ebriety that prompts

His every action, and imbrutes the man.
O, for a law to noose the villain's neck,
Who starves his own; who persecutes the blood
He gave them in his children's veins, and hates
And wrongs the woman he has sworn to love!

LICENSED DRAM-SHOPS.

Pass where we may, through city or through town, Village or hamlet of this merry land, Though lean and beggared, every twentieth pace Conducts the unguarded nose to such a whiff Of stale debauch, forth issuing from the styes That law has licensed, as makes temperance reel.

THE GROG-SHOP AND ITS INMATES. DISCORD PERSONIFIED. -PROFANITY.

There sit, involved and lost in curling clouds
Of Indian fume, and guzzling deep, the boor,
The lackey, and the groom: the craftsman there
Takes a Lethean leave of all his toil;
Smith, cobbler, joiner, he that plies the shears,
And he that kneads the dough; all loud alike,
All learned, and all drunk! the fiddle screams
Plaintive and piteous, as it wept and wailed
Its wasted tones and harmony unheard :
Fierce the dispute, whate'er the theme; while she,
Fell Discord, arbitress of such debate,
Perched on the sign-post, holds with even hand
Her undecisive scales. In this she lays
A weight of ignorance; in that, of pride;
And smiles delighted with the eternal poise.
Dire is the frequent curse, and its twin sound,
The cheek-distending oath, not to be praised
As ornamental, musical, polite,

Like those which modern senators employ,
Whose oath is rhetoric, and who swear for fame'