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46. WANTS.


ASSING from the abodes of want and misery, they at length

from the windows, the cāliph approached, and looking through the silken curtains, beheld a man walking backward and forward, with languid step, as if oppressed with a load of cares. At length casting himself down on a sofa, he stretched out his limbs, and yawning desperately, exclaimed, “O Allah! what shall I do? what will become of me! I am weary of life ; it is nothing but a cheat, promising what it never purposes, and affording only hopes that end in disappointment, or, if realized, only in disgust.”

2. The curiosity of the caliph being awakened to know the cause of his despair, he ordered Mesrour to knock at the door ; which being opened, they pleaded the privilege of strāngers to enter, for rest and refreshments. Again, in accordance with the precepts of the Ko'ran and the customs of the East, the strangers were admitted to the presence of the lord of the palace, who received them with welcome, and directed refreshments to be brought. But though he treated his guests with kindness, he neither sat down with them nor asked any questions, nor joined in their discourse, walking back and forth languidly, and seeming oppressed with a heavy burden of sorrows.

3. At length the cāliph approached him reverently, and said : “Thou seemèst sorrowful, O my brother! If thy suffering is of the body, I am a physician, and peradventure can afford thee relief; for I have traveled into distant lands, and collected věry choice remedies for human infirmity.”

4. “My sufferings are not of the body, but of the mind,” answered the other.

5. “Hast thou lost the beloved of thy heart, the friend of thy bosom, or been disappointed in the attainment of that on which thou hast rested all thy hopes of happiness ?”

6. “ Alas! no. I have been disappointed, not in the means, but in the attainment of happiness. I want nothing but a want. I am cursed with the gratification of all my wishes, and the fruition of all my hopes. I have wasted my life in the acquisition

of riches, that only awakened new desires, and honors that no longer gratify my pride or repay me for the labor of sustaining them. I have been cheated in the pursuit of pleasures that weary me in the enjoyment, and am pěrishing for lack of the excitement of some new want. I have every thing I wish, yět enjoy nothing.”

7. “Thy case is beyond my skill,” replied the caliph ; and the man cursed with the fruition of all his desires turned his back on him in despair. The caliph, after thanking him for his hospitality, departed with his companions, and when they had reached the street exclaimed

8. “Allah preserve me! I will no longer fatigue myself in a vain pursuit, for it is impossible to confer happiness on such a perverse generation. I see it is all the same, whether a man wants one thing, every thing, or nothing. Let us go home and sleep.”

PAULDING. JAMES KIRKE PAULDING was born August 22, 1779, in the town of Pawling, on the Hudson, so named from one of his ancestors. After receiving a liberal edu. cation, he removed to New York City, where he has since principally resided. After writing some trifles for the gazettes, Mr. Paulding, with Washington Irving, established a periodical entitled “Salmagundi,” in 1807. It met with extraordinary success, and was, perhaps, the determining cause of the author's subsequent devotion to literature. In 1819, Mr. Paulding published a second series of the “Salmagundi,” of which he was the sole author. He is a voluminous writer. His various works, including stories, essays, and other papers, which he has published in periodicals, make more than thirty volumes. " The Dutch man's Fireside,” published in 1831, and “Westward Ho,” published the next year, are regarded as his best novels. They are distinguished for considerable descriptive powers, skill in character-writing, natural humor, and a strong national feeling, which gives a tone to all his works. Mr. Paulding was many years navy agent for the port of New York. When President Van Buren formed his cabinet, in the spring of 1837, he was selected to be the head of the navy department, in which office he continued for four years. He died at his country seat in Hyde Park, in his native county, in 1860.




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WEET Auburn! loveliëst village of the plain,

Where health and plenty cheered the laboring swain,
Where smiling Spring its earliëst visit paid,
And parting Summer's lingering blooms delayed :
Dear, lovely bowers of innocence and ease,

Seats of my youth, when every sport could please,
How often have I loitered o’er thy green,
Where humble happiness endeared each scene !
How often have I paused on every charm,-
The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm,
The never-failing brook, the busy mill,
The decent church that topped the neighboring hill,
The hawthorn bush, with seats benēafin the shade,

For talking age and whispering lovers made! 2. How often have I blessed the coming day,

When toil remitting lent its aid to play,
And all the village train, from labor free,
Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree!
While many a pastime circled in the shade,
. The young contending as the old surveyed;
And many a gambol frolicked o'er the ground,
And sleights of art and feats of strength went round.
And still, as each repeated pleasure tired,
Succeeding sports the mirthful band inspired :
The dancing pair, that simply sought renown
By holding out to tire each other down;
The swain, mistrustlèss of his smutted face,
While secret laughter tittered round the place;
The bashful virgin's sidelong looks of love,
The mātron's glance that would these looks reprove :
These were thy charms, sweet village ! sports like these,
With sweet succession, taught e'en toil to please ;
These round thy bowers their cheerful influence shed,

These were thy charms ;—but all these charms are fleda 3. Sweet, smiling village, loveliëst of the lawn,

Thy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawn :
Amid thy bowers the týrant's hand is seen,
And desolation saddens all thy green ;
One only master grasps the whole domain,
And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain.
No more thy glassy brook reflects the day,
But, choked with sedges, works its weedy way;
Along thy glades, a solitary guest,
The bollow-sounding bittern guards its nest;

Amid thy desert walks the lapwing flies,
And tires their echoes with unvaried cries.
Sunk are thy bowers in shapeless ruin all,
And the long grass o'ertops the moldering wall;
And, trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's hand,

Far, far away thy children leave the land.
4. Til fares the land, to bastening ills a prey,

Where wealth accumulates, and men decay :
Princes and lords


flourish or may fade ;
A breath can make them, as a breath has made,
But a bold peasantry, their country's pride,
When once destroyed can never be supplied.
A time there was, ere England's griefs began,
When every rood of ground maintained its man;
For him light labor spread her wholesome store,
Just gave what life required, but gave no more;
His best companions, innocence and health ;
And his best riches, ignorance of wealth.
But times are altered : trade's unfeeling train
Usurp the land, and dispossess the swain ;
Along the lawn, where scattered hamlets rose,
Unwieldly wealth and cumbrous pomp repose;
And every want to luxury allied,
And every pang that folly pays to pride.
Those gentle hours that plenty băde to bloom,
Those calm desires that asked but little room,
Those healthful sports that graced the peaceful scene,
Lived in each look, and brightened all the green ;-
These, far departing, seek a kinder shore,

And rural mirth and manners are no more.
5. Sweet Auburn! parent of the blissful hour,

Thy glades forlorn confess the týrant's power.
Here, as I take my solitary rounds,
Amid thy tangling walks and ruined grounds,
And, many a year elapsed, return to view
Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grow,
Remembrance wakes with all her busy train,
Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain.
In all my wanderings round this world of care,
In all my griefs—and God has given my share-


I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown,
Amid these humble bowers to lay me down ;
To husband out life's taper at the close,
And keep the flame from wasting by repose :
I still had hopes,—for pride attends us still, -
Amid the swains to show my book-learned skill;
Around my fire an evening group to draw,
And tell of all I felt and all I saw ;
And as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursūe,
Pants to the place from whence at first she flew,
I still had hopes, my long vexations past,

Here to return-and die at home at last.
6. O blessed retirement! friend to life's decline,

Retreat from care, that never must be mine,
How blessed is he who crowns, in shades like these,
A youth of labor with an age of ease;
Who quits a world where strong temptations try,
And, since 'tis hard to combat, learns to fly!
For him no wretches, born to work and weep,
Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep ;
Nor surly porter stands, in guilty state,
To spurn imploring famine from the gate ;
But on he moves to meet his latter end,
Angels around befriending virtue's friend ;
Sinks to the grave with unperceived decay,
While resignation gently slopes the way ;
And all his prospects brightening to the last,

His heaven commences ere the world be past.
7. Sweet was the sound, when öft, at evening's close,

Up yonder hill the village murmur rose :
There, as I passed with carelèss steps and slow
The mingling notes came softened from below;
The swain responsive as the milkmaid sung,
The sober herd that lowed to meet their young ;
The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool,
The playful children just let loose from school;
The watch-dog's voice that bayed the whispering wind,
And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind :
These all in sweet confusion sought the shade,
And filled each pause the nightingale had made.

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