She sits her down to gain a little strength,
And rests her wrinkled forehead on her crutch,
Bending her dim eye with an idle gaze
Upon the grass. She moves so slowly on,
And makes such feeble rustling in the grass,
That oft the rabbit hopping through the hedge,
Crosses her path close by, nor pricks his ears
At sight of her. The farmers pass her by,
And only wonder
She looks so old.

she is yet alive,
Yet I can feel for her,
And when the flakes of snow fell fast last night,
I shivered as I thought how cold and chill
The day would be to her without her chips,
Which every morn she gathers in the wood.
I pity one who feels not for herself!
For I have talked with her about her youth,
Have heard her tell the sorrows she had known,
The disappointments she had met in life,

And she would say that she was old and feeble, And had outlived her friends. Yet she would

speak

As if she were to live yet many days,

And wished it too! And I have never seen
One transient frown upon her aged brow,
Nor heard her heave one sorrow-freighted sigh!
Oft on a summer's morn, as I have lain
Upon the old oak bench, beside her door,
And gazed intently on her palsied frame,
Bow-bent and clad in tatters, I have mused
In awful silence. I have pondered much

What gift the flatterer, Hope, could promise her,
Would be a compensation for the toil,

The pain, the weariness, the cheerless hours,
Of this old woman's day. The poor old man,
Crippled, and blind, and feeble as a babe,
More poor than Poverty, when from the womb
Of Idleness she came upon the earth,

What expectation lifts his palsied hand,
To grasp, as 'twere, the grass on his grave-side,
That he might draw another idle breath!
This ever flies my fancy's widest range!
But I can tell full well, for I have known,
What gilded visions cheer the dream of youth,
What balm is poured on his half-broken heart,
To prompt him onward thro' a desert wild?-
Anticipation gilds with lover's smiles,

His morrow's dawn-Hope leads the wanderer

on,

And Inclination, nurse of Hope, beguiles

The passing hours-embodies all their dreams,
And, harsh, repels the whispering voice of
Prudence,

Which speaks of blessings scattered on his path,
And tells him to enjoy them as they pass.
He grasps an empty unsubstantial bubble,
Or if a real good, Possession steals
Its value-Disappointment turns his eye,
What place Reflection, like a true friend, shows
The joys he scorned, yet seldom makes him wiser.
JACQUES.

THE MAMMOTH FEAST.

EWING.

The subsequent satire will be more fully understood, by recurring to an admirable prose description, which the historian of the Aurora has given to a wondering world. In the far famed Museum of Mr. Peale,

Behemoth, biggest born of earth

Upheaves his vastness,

and thirteen Virtuosi have decided that even the dry bones of the Mammoth afford very pretty picking.

"The SKELETON, with which it is Mr. Rembrandt Peale's intention shortly to visit Europe, was yesterday so far put together, that previous to taking it to pieces for the purpose of packing up, HE, and TWELVE other gentlemen partook of a collation WITHIN the BREAST of the animal, all comfortably seated round a small table, and one of Mr. Hawkin's Patent Portable Piano's ;-after which the following toasts were drunk, accompanied with music.

1. The Biped animal MAN-May peace, virtue, and happiness be his distinguishing character.

2. The American People-May they be as pre-eminent among the nations of the earth, as

the canopy we sit beneath surpasses the fabric of the Mouse. Yankee Doodle.

3. Agriculture-In constituting the pride and riches of our country, may its rewards be as abundant as THIS FRUIT* was unexpected.

4. The Constitution of the United StatesMay "its ribs be as ribs of brass, and its backbone as molten iron." Hail Columbia.

5. The Arts and Sciences-Nursed in a genial soil, and fostered with tender care, may their honour prove as durable as the bower which surrounds us.

6. The Brains of Freemen-May they never be so barricadoed by the jack-ass bones of opposition as to crush their native energy.

7. The Friends of Peace-To all else, such bones to gnaw, as, dried by ten thousand moons, may starve their hungry maws.-Jefferson's March.

8. All Honest men- -If they cannot feast in the Breast of a Mammoth, may their own breast be large enough.

9. The Ladies of Philadelphia-Ere their naked beauties prove as horrible as bare bones, may virtue behold them clothed in the garment of modesty.

* These bones were discovered by farmers dig

ging for manure.

† Job, chap. 40.

10. The Present Company-May their second birth, though from the womb of the breast, be followed with every blessing of life.

Volunteer-Success to these Bonny parts in Europe."-Aurora.

ORPHEUS! thou flinty-rock-enlivening God! Thou dancing-master to the tree-clad mountains!

Be kind for once, and tell me by a nod,
A nod familiar, gentle, kind,

That up Parnassus I may wind

And tipple inspiration at the Muses' fountain,
Where thou, its keeper, fiddlest all the day,
While pebbles, sands, and stones, like hail-
storms round thee play!

Orpheus! I venerate thy fiddling talent
And wish to make of it a trial,
I know thee musical and very gallant
Too much so to return a flat denial!
I pray thee, fiddler! to accept from me,
The homage of my high consideration,
Arcadian swains did not more joy to see

Your wife and you among them show
your faces,

Teaching the awkward oaks the airs and

graces,