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No. II.

THE PARSON'S DAUGHTER.

THERE are who love, impelled by tender passion; While some are lured by belles who dress in fashion; A beauteous face can set some hearts on fire; A handsome shape and stature some admire ; Some love for this, while others sigh for that, And not a few they cannot tell for what. As measles and the hooping-cough are found To spread contagion all the country round, Love, hov'ring like disease, on viewless wings, The dire infection on his victim flings; Most powerful 'tis when settling in the heart, Though seldom that's the vulnerable part: More frequently it fixes on the head, Producing waking dreams, by fancy fed; The patient giddy, in delirium toss'd,

In frenzied wildness raves of fire and frost.

In youth, those sudden fits are sometimes strong,
But seldom either dangerous or long;

The fever cooling, makes recovery sure,

While time and absence soon complete the cures

Of love in dotage, at some after time
The moralizing muse perhaps may rhyme;
Her wish, just now, to show that youthful fire
Misplaced, will land its victims in the mire.

George Sinclair's father felt his youthful mind Had in a narrow circle been confined;

So far was he behind this reading age,

He had no pleasure in the lettered page ;
Of figures ignorant, he blushed in shame,
When he in pot-hooks tried to scrawl his name.
Though bless'd with mother-wit and common sense,
He envied others for their eloquence;

Their stock, though scanty, of historic lore,
Appeared to him a rich, exhaustless store;
Thus brags and blunders he could not detect,
But wondering, listened with profound respect :
Thus counters with the poor, for gold may pass,
As savages are charmed with coloured glass.

Although too late his ignorance to cure,
To make his infant son's improvement sure,
The sire resolved that, in the nurse's arms,
George should in learning find attractive charms.
For the expansion of his latent powers,

The vestibule was strewed with gaudy flowers;
And he, delighted, saw the infant boy

Gaze on the gilded book, and pictured toy.

Lest childish pastimes should that passion cool,
At early age the lad was sent to school,
Where he displayed a keen, inquiring mind,
And, in his class, left each compeer behind:
With growing years his love of learning grew,
One boundless vista opening to his view;
The teacher faithfully performed his part,
Informed the head, while he improved the heart;
George, wise and prudent at fifteen, was deemed
A prodigy-by young and old esteemed.

George left the school, and, on his father's farm, With skilful hand, keen eye, and brawny arm, Could guide the plough, and turn the stubborn soil, Delighted musing 'midst his daily toil;

For he, enamoured of a farmer's life,

Deemed it with health and rural pleasures rife,
In which the active mind might still expand,
And find employment both for head and hand.
At twenty, George in skill to none would yield;
For he could plough, sow, reap, and stock the field ;
Of prudent cropping knew the just routine,
Knew when to fallow, when grain crops, or green.

Well pleased, his father placed him in a farm

Of fertile soil, with stocking rich and warm.

George, deeming now that he was fixed for life, Believed that nought was wanting but a wife

To make his cup of earthly bliss o'erflow,
And place him in a paradise below;

But still, though wedlock seemed a haleyon sea,
Temerity was dangerous; and he,

Aware that Love was oft a treacherous guide,
Resolved that Prudence should select his bride;
Nor splendid dowry, nor external charms,
Should make him fold the fair one in his arms.
She should be one of intellectual mind,
Her education good, her taste refined,
One who could in his mental pleasures share,
And with her converse banish every care;
One whose congenial soul with his could blend,
Through life his counsellor, companion, friend;
But where was such perfection to be found?
"Take time,” said Prudence, " pause, and look around.”

Jane Collins was a parson's youngest child, And he on her with doating fondness smiled; A pedant, but a worthy, pious man,

His daughter at an early age began,

With him, her studies on the classic page,

While all he taught was mixed with counsels sage.

Correctly she could Latin write and speak,

And even translate the Gospels from the Greek :
Yet virgin modesty made her demure,

A bashful maiden, for her mind was pure;

When wisdom spoke, most anxious still to hear :Such was Jane Collins in her twentieth year.

George, on a friendly visit, met the fair,
And felt delighted with her modest air;
Pleased with her comely and expressive face,
Each feature showed some intellectual grace;
Although she seemed to silence much inclined,
Her converse showed a cultivated mind;

With listening ear, the youth enraptured hung
On every accent dropping from her tongue :
He looked and loved-believed propitious Fate
Had guided him to a congenial mate.
A letter to the fair his love confess'd,
And her reply such sentiments express'd

As fanned the flame; repeated visits paid,
George pleased the parson-wooed, and won the maid ;
Their hands were by the happy father tied,

And George led home his fair and blushing bride.

Love seldom shone with more unclouded noon,
Than that which blessed their raptured honey-moon ;
Where he his roses and green myrtles twines,
And Hymen's hallowed torch with lustre shines,
He scatters sweets, that minds most pure and chaste
Will banquet on, delighted with the taste.

As o'er his fields George led the lovely fair,
Her eye, her tongue, said all was charming there;

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