That love of life increased with years
So much, that in our latter stages,

When pains grow sharp and sickness rages,
The greatest love of life appears.

2. This great affection to believe, Which all confess, but few perceive, If old assertions can't prevail,

Be pleased to hear a modern tale.

3. When sports went round, and all were gay On neighbor Dobson's wedding-day, Death called aside the jocund groom

With him into another room;

And looking grave, "You must," says he,
"Quit your sweet bride, and come with me."

4. "With you! and quit my Susan's side!
With you!" the hapless husband cried;
"Young as I am? 'tis monstrous hard!
Besides, in truth, I'm not prepared :
My thoughts on other matters go,
This is my wedding-night, you know."
What more he urged I have not heard:
His reasons could not well be stronger:
So Death the poor delinquent spared,
And left to live a little longer.

5. Yet, calling up a serious look—
His hour-glass trembled while he spoke,-
Neighbor," he said, "farewell! no more
Shall Death disturb your mirthful hour:
And farther to avoid all blame

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Of cruelty upon my name,

To give you time for preparation.
And fit you for your future station,
Three several warnings you shall have,
Before you're summoned to the grave.
Willing, for once I'll quit my prey,
And grant a kind reprieve,

In hopes you'll have no more to say,
But, when I call again this way,

Well pleased, the world will leave.'
To these conditions both consented,
And parted, perfectly contented.

6. What next the hero of our tale befell, How long he lived, how wisely, and how well It pleased him, in his prosperous course, To smoke his pipe, and pat his horse, The willing muse shall tell :— He chaffered then, he bought, he sold, Nor once perceived his growing old, Nor thought of death as near; His friends not false, his wife no shrew, Many his gains, his children few,

He passed his hours in peace.

But, while he viewed his wealth increase,-
While thus along life's dusty road
The beaten track content he trod,—
Old Time, whose haste no mortal spares,
Uncalled, unheeded, unawares,

Brought on his eightieth year.

7. And now, one night, in musing mood, As all alone he sate,

The unwelcome messenger of fate

Once more before him stood.

Half killed with anger and surprise,
"So soon returned!" old Dobson cries.
"So soon, d'ye call it?" Death replies:
"Surely, my friend, you're but in jest:
Since I was here before

"Tis six-and-thirty years at least,
And you are now fourscore."

8. "So much the worse!" the clown rejoined: "To spare the aged would be kind :

Besides, you promised me three warnings, Which I have looked for nights and mornings."

"I know," cries Death, "that, at the best,

I seldom am a welcome guest;

But don't be captious, friend, at least:
I little thought you'd still be able
To stump about your farm and stable:
Your years have run to a great length;
I wish you joy, though, of your strength."
9. "Hold!" says the farmer, “not so fast:
I have been lame these four years past.'
"And no great wonder," Death replies:
"However, you still keep your eyes;

And sure, to see one's loves and friends,
For legs and arms would make amends."
Perhaps," says Dobson," so it might;
But latterly I've lost my sight."

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"This is a shocking story, faith;

Yet there's some comfort, still," says Death:
"Each strives your sadness to amuse :

I warrant you hear all the news."

10. "There's none," cries he; "and if there were,
I'm grown so deaf I could not hear."
"Nay, then," the spectre stern rejoined,
“These are unreasonable yearnings:
If you are lame, and deaf, and blind,

You've had your three sufficient warnings:
So come along; no more we'll part."
He said, and touched him with his dart:
And now old Dobson, turning pale,

The Dervis and the Two Merchants.-LACON.

1. THE ignorant have often given credit to the wise, for powers that are permitted to none, merely because the wise have made a proper use of those powers that are permitted to all.

2. The little Arabian tale of the dervis, shall be the comment of this proposition. A dervis was journeying alone in the des ert, when two merchants suddenly met him; "You have lost a camel," said he to the merchants; "indeed we have," they replied:

3. "Was he not blind in his right eye, and lame in his left leg?" said the dervis; "he was," replied the merchants; "had he not lost a front tooth?" said the dervis, "he had," rejoined the merchants; "and was he not loaded with honey on one side and wheat on the other?"-" most certainly he was," they replied, "and as you have seen him so lately, and marked him so particularly, you can, in all probability, conduct us unto him.”

4. "My friends," said the dervis, "I have never seen your camel, nor ever heard of him but from you." "A pretty story, truly," said the merchants, "but where are the jewels which

formed a part of his cargo?" "I have neither seen your camel, nor your jewels," repeated the dervis.

5. On this, they seized his person, and forthwith hurried him before the cadi,* where, on the strictest search, nothing could be found upon him, nor could any evidence whatever be adduced to convict him, either of falsehood or theft.

6. They were then about to proceed against him as a sorcerer, when the dervis, with great calmness, thus addressed the court: “I have been much amused with your surprise, and own. that there has been some ground for your suspicions; I have lived long, and alone; I can find ample scope for observation, even in a desert.

7. "I knew that I had crossed the track of a camel that had strayed from its owner, because I saw no mark of any human footstep on the same route; I knew that the animal was blind of one eye, because it had cropped the herbage only on one side of its path: and I perceived that it was lame in one leg, from the faint impression that particular foot had produced on the sand; I concluded, that the animal had lost one tooth, because wherever it had grazed, a small tuft of herbage was left uninjured, in the centre of its bite.

8. "As to that which formed the burden of the beast, the busy ants informed me that it was corn on the one side, and the clustering flies, that it was honey on the other."

LESSON CVIII.

On the Present and Future State.-ADDISON.

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1. A LEWD young fellow seeing an aged hermit go by him barefoot, "Father," says he, " you are in a very miserable condition, if there is not another world." True, son," said the hermit; "but what is thy condition if there is ?"-Man is a creature designed for two different states of being, or rather for two different lives. His first life is short and transient; his second permanent and lasting.

2. The question we are all concerned in, is this-In which of these two lives is it our chief interest to make ourselves happy? Or, in other words—Whether we should endeavour to secure to ourselves the pleasures and gratifications of a life which is uncertain and precarious, and at its utmost length, of a very inconsiderable duration; or to secure to ourselves the pleasures of a

* A Turkish magistrate.

life which is fixed and settled, and will never end? Every man, upon the first hearing of this question, knows very well which side of it he ought to close with.

3. But however right we are in theory, it is plain that in practice we adhere to the wrong side of the question. We inake provision for this life as though it were never to have an end; and for the other life as though it were never to have a beginning.

4. Should a spirit of superior rank, who is a stranger to human nature, accidentally alight upon this earth, and take a survey of its inhabitants-What would his notions of us be? Would he not think that we are a species of beings made for quite different ends and purposes than what we really are? Must he not imagine that we were placed in this world to get riches and honors? Would he not think that it was our duty to toil after wealth, and station, and title?

5. Nay, would he not believe we were forbidden poverty by threats of eternal punishment, and enjoined to pursue our pleasures, under pain of damnation? He would certainly imagine that we were influenced by a scheme of duties quite opposite to those which are indeed prescribed to us.

6. And, truly, according to such an imagination, he must conclude that we are a species of the most obedient creatures in the universe; that we are constant to our duty; and that we keep a steady eye on the end for which we were sent hither.

7. But how great would be his astonishment, when he learnt that we were beings not designed to exist in this world above three score and ten years: and that the greatest part of this busy species fall short even of that age! How would he be lost in horror and admiration, when he should know that this set of creatures, who lay out all their endeavors for this life, which scarce deserves the name of existence, when, I say, he should know that this set of creatures are to exist to all eternity in another life, for which they make no preparations?

8. Nothing can be a greater disgrace to reason, than that men who are persuaded of these two different states of being, should be perpetually employed in providing for a life of three score and ten years, and neglecting to make provision for that, which, after many myriads of years, will be still new and still beginning; especially when we consider, that our endeavors for making ourselves great, or rich, or honorable, or whatever else we place our happiness in, may, after all, prove unsuccessful; whereas, if we constantly and sincerely endeavor to make ourselves happy in