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I love to listen when the year grows old
And noisy, like some weak wrinkled thing
That vents his splenetic humours, murmuring
At ills he shares in common with the bold.
Then from my quiet room the Winter cold
Is barred out like a thief; but should one bring
A frozen hand, the which DECEMBER'S wing
Hath struck so fiercely, that he scarce can hold
The stiff'ned fingers tow'rd the grate, I lend
A double welcome to the victim, who
Comes shivering with pale looks, and lips of blue,
And thro' the snow and splashing rain could walk,
For some few hours of kind and social talk;
And deem him more than ever now my friend.

THE HERE cannot be a more effectual mode of dissipating the reserve of an English constitution, than by subjecting it to the influence of a brisk fire during the dark evenings of December. We may venture, indeed, to remark, that, like the hoary vesture of a winter's morning, exhaling in the solar light, so vanishes this repulsive frost-work of the soul before the exhilarating illumination of the social hearth. It is also curious and pleasant to trace the effects of such relaxation on the two great classes of mankind; to compare the tranquil and elegant gratifications of the educated circles of both sexes in the middle order of society, with the hearty but too often boisterous mirth of the honest peasant in his chimney corner. With both,however, rest those feelings of homefelt enjoyment, which so generally shun the halls of grandeur and of wealth, and which, most assuredly, keep far aloof from the mansions X ATHENEUM VOL. 10.

B. CORNWALL.

of dissipation and vice. We can picture, without incurring any charge of romantic exaggeration, the cottage hind hanging over his blazing faggots, telling or listening to the tales of faithful love, or goblin fear; or recounting, with blithesome glee and reiterated peals of laughter, the frolics of his earlier days; nor heeding, unless to enhance the comforts of his warm retreat,

The storm that blows
Without, and rattles on his humble roof.

We can also paint, with equal facility and truth, the gaiety, the wit, and humour that sparkle by the fire-side of him who, with a few friends, alike distinguished for their worth, their wisdom and their taste, knows how to illuminate the dreariest night of winter

With mirth that, after, no repenting draws.

But where, except in the abodes of rustic honesty or educated virtue, shall we find that heartfelt exhilaration, or

those pure and attic pleasures, which have given to the fire-sides of our countrymen a character so enviably sacred? Highly privileged as we are in this repect, let us show our gratitude to Him who affords us these blessings, by extending our assistance to the poor cottager, who is now, perhaps, stretched on the bed of sickness, and is surrounded with a starving family. Think of his sufferings, at this inclement season, and let the perusal of the following eloquent, but not exaggerated, descriptions of them, induce you to give your mite towards their relief.

The WOODMAN.

Now driving sleets and piercing whistling wind
Through every cranny a rude entrance find,
Chilling the cottage hearth, whose stinted blaze
Half warms the urchin that around it plays.
The trying season came, and, sad to tell,
Rheumatic agonies on Basil fell,

And with a rude, unsparing, withering hand,
Cast him a wreck on life's hard frozen strand!
No more his vigorous arm can strike the blow,
That lays the monarch of the woodland low;
No more, alas! no more his daily toils

Feed his poor babes, and wake their grateful smiles;
The hand that fed the little white-haired race
Lies motionless, in one sad resting-place,
And keen varieties of woe combined

Prey on his flesh, and lacerate his mind.

Paulding's Backwoodsman.

The WINTRY DAY.

Is it in mansions rich and gay,
On downy beds or couches warm,
That Nature owns the Wintry Day,
And shricks to hear the howling storm?
Ah! no!

'Tis on the bleak and barren heath,
Where mis'ry feels the shaft of death,
As to the dark and freezing grave
Her children, not a friend to save,
Unheeded go!

Is it in chambers, silken drest,
At tables with profusion's heap;
Is it on pillows soft to rest

In dreams of long and balmy sleep?
Ah! no!

'Tis in the rushy hut obscure
Where poverty's low sons endure,
And, scarcely daring to repine,
On a straw pallet, mute, recline,
O'erwhelmed with woe;

Is it to flaunt in warm attire,
To laugh and feast and dance and sing,
And crowd around the blazing fire,
And make the room with revels ring?
Ah! no!

'Tis on the prison.s flinty floor,
'Tis where the deaf'ning whirlwinds roar,
'Tis when the sea-bey, on the mast,
Hears the waves bounding to the blast!
And looks below!

Is it in chariots gay to ride,

To crowd the splendid midnight ball,
To revel in luxurious pride,
While pampered vassals wait your call?
Ah! no!

'Tis in a cheerless, naked room,
Where mis'ry's victims wait their doom!
Where a fond mother famished dies,
While forth a frantic father flies,

Man's desp'rate for.

Is it where, prodigal and weak,
The silly spendthrift scatters gold,
Where eager folly hastes to seek
The sordid, wanton, false and bold?
Ah! no!

'Tis in the silent spot obscure,
Where, forced all sorrows to endure,
Pale Genius learns, oh lesson sad!
To court the vain, and on the bad

False praise bestow!

Is it, where gamesters flocking round,
Their shining heaps of wealth display?
Where fashion's giddy tribes are found
Sporting their senseless hours away?
Ah! no!

'Tis where neglected genius sighs,
Where hope exhausted silent dies;
Where merit starves by pride oppressed,
Till ev'ry stream that warms the breast
Forbears to flow !

Rain and wind are now very prevalent; and as severe frost seldom sets in till the latter end of the month, December may be reckoned the most unpleasant of the whole year. At other times, November is better entitled to this appellation, and ice and snow contribute to give to Christmas that union of frost and good cheer which form the usual character of this season. December has, occasionally, put on a milder form. In the year 1760, in this month, many pear-trees in the gardens about London appeared in blossom, and others were bursting into leaf; primroses and daisies were seen in the fields, and other indications of approaching spring. In a gentleman's garden in Cumberland there were marigolds and ten different kinds of flowers in full bloom, and all the trees in the garden in bud. On the 23d of January following, at Swansea,a gooseberry bush was observed with gooseberries on it, as large as cherry-stones;

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Where no perpetual drizzle drives or soaks ;
Where skies are blue, and suns give light and heat;
Where the wind woos you lovingly, and where
Wit walks the street, and music's in the air.

'The above lines (observes a modern traveller, in a letter dated from Venice in December 1817) comprise, in my opinion, the principal attractions of Italy, and I ought to confess, that I have found all these without going farther south than Venice in pursuit of them. Till within these three days, we have had the weather of an English May, with its accompaniments of green peas, strawberries and roses.

'Italy's skies and suns have passed into a proverb: but I have never yet heard her comparative calm comment ed upon, though she affords a strange contrast in this to England; which may be compared to the island of Ruach, whose inhabitants, Rabelais tells us, “eat nothing but wind, drink nothing but wind, and have no other houses but weather-cocks." Not only England; I think every part of Europe which I have visited is more swept by winds than Italy, where continued gales are unknown; such rarely continuing, even in the season of the equinox, for more than three or four days without intermission, so that a winter's

gale of wind is here little more than what seamen call a summer's gale in England. A striking proof indeed of comparative calm may be observed in the public gardens of Venice. These are situated on the sea-side of the town, yet their acacias are neither bent nor broken. Something of which may be observed of the bays of Naples and Genoa, along both of which are thousands of trellised galleries, covered with the vine or the oleander, whose foliage remains undishevelled by the wind.'

of the year. The whole race of insects, which filled every part of the summer landscape with life and motion, are now either buried in profound sleep, or actually no longer exist, except in the unformed rudiments of a future progeny. Many of the birds and quadrupeds (as the frog, lizard, badger, hedgehog, &c.) are retired to concealments, from which not even the calls of hunger can force them; and the rest, intent only on a joyless life, have ceased to exert those powers of pleasing, which, at other seasons, contribute to their mutual happiness as to the amusement of their human sovereign.

The evergreen trees with their beautiful cones, such as firs and pines, are In the warmer countries, where shade. now particularly observed and valued. is more desirable, their worth and beauty are more regularly appreciated. Virgil talks of the pine as being handsomest in gardens and it is a great favourite with Theocritus, especially for the fine sound of the air under its kind of vaulted roof. But we have flowers as well as leaves in winter-time; besides nite and hellebore, two names of very a few of last month, there are the acoof the flowering shrubs, which put forth different celebrity; in addition to some their beauty at Christmas. The evergreens and winter flowers are like real friends, who, whatever be their peculiar disposition, whether serious or gay, will never forsake us. Even roses, with which we are apt to associate summer weather, flourish from May to December inclusive; and, during the winter months, will live and prosper in apartments. We need not be without them from the first day of the year to the last.

LINES

Sent with a Cluster of December Roses. I gathered these roses, my love, in July,

When the roses were thick on the trees,

As sweet to the scent, and as soft to the eye,

But, oh! not so lovely as these.

For they were but one in a crowd of delights,
The children of sunshine and dew,

nights,

From the fall of the leaf, and wither- When the days were all blessed, all blessed the ing of the herb, an unvarying deathlike torpor oppresses almost the whole vegetable creation, and a considerable part of the animal, during this entire portion

And the sky an unchangeable blue.
But these, when December is dark over head,
And the garden all leafless around,

We cherish these buds as a voice from the dead,
As a well in the summer-scorched ground.

As the prisoner would cherish the strugglings of light,

That found their way into his cell,

Telling yet of a world that is blithesome and bright,
A world where the happy ones dwell.

Cornelius Neale.

There is one portion of the winter (observes an amiable writer) when the fire-side, from the customary convivialities of the period, becomes peculiarly attractive. I allude to the season of Christmas, a festival which, from a vivid recollection of the manner of its celebration in the North about forty years ago, has been indissolubly associated in my mind with all the delight ful reminiscences of early life; blending the rainbow visions of youth and unalloyed hope, with those religious feelings and innocent recreations which give to the close of the year so hallowed, and, at the same time, so exhilarating an aspect. With what a soothing melancholy, as the blast sweeps across my shutters and whistles round my room, do I often sit by the fire-side on the dark nights of December, and call to mind the festiv pleasures of a northern Christmas eve;

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The happy night, That, to the cottage as the crown, Brought tidings of salvation down;

when, after having surrounded the yuleclog, as it lay in ponderous majesty on the kitchen floor, and each had sung his yule-song, standing on its centre, we consigned it to the flames that

Went roaring up the chimney wide,

and, tripping across the hall, sprang with joyous faces into the parlour, where the tale, the dance, and the game, the minced-pie, and the spiced bowl, rendered doubly sweet by the approving smiles of our delighted parents, completed our satisfaction.

'It is in combination with imagery such as this, which, in the morning of life, spread as it were a fairy mantle over the severest rigours of the season; that winter, independent of the attractions arising from its awful and sublime scenery, ever after charms.'

They should have drawn thee by the high-heap'd

hearth,

Old Winter! seated in thy great arm chair,
Watching the children at their Christmas mirth;
Or circled by them, as thy lips declare
Some merry jest, or tale of murder dire,

Or troubled spirit that disturbs the night;
Pausing at times to move the languid fire,
Or taste the old October, brown and bright.

In concluding our eighth annual survey of frost and snow, of fruits, and flowers, and shrubs,-of birds and insects, and of the various beauties and curiosities of the Creation,—we cannot, we think, render a more acceptable service to our readers, than earnestly to recommend to them the study of Natural History. It is one of the most delightful occupations that can employ the attention of reasoning man ;—the engaging companion of every rural walk, courting his attention with unceasing variety, and raising the humble mind to the first GREAT CAUSE, with more gentle and sweet satisfaction than any other of his permitted resources; excepting, perhaps, Astronomy, a science too sublime for the contemplation of common man.-Young minds cannot be too early impressed with the simple wonders of Creation by which they are surrounded; in the race of life they may be passed by, the occupation of existence may not admit attention to them;-they may not be sufficiently heeded among the unceasing cares of some bias to the reasoning mind,—and the world, but yet will not fail to give may contribute to soothe the gloomy hours of adversity.

I love to mark the flow'ret's eye,
To rest where pebbles form my bed,
Where shapes and colours scattered lie
In varying millions round my head.
The soul rejoices when alone,

And feels her glorious empire free;
Sees GOD in every shining stone,
And revels in variety.

Then tell me not that I shall grow
Forlorn, that fields and woods will cloy;
From Nature and her changes flow
An everlasting tide of joy.

I grant that Summer heats will burn,

That keen will come the frosty night;
But both shall please: and each, in turn,
Yield Reason's most supreme delight.
Build me a shrine,and I could kneel
To rural gods, or prostrate fall;
Did I not see. did I not feel,

That one GREAT SPIRIT governs all.

A

(Blackwood's Magazine.)

THE FLORIDA PIRATE.

thing must be done," I exclaimed, starting up: "If these are pirates, I will join them. My profession will enable me to render them valuable services. I shall be guilty of no crime in doing so ;

late the laws of man." I looked anxiously towards the schooner, which lay within half a mile of the shore, in hopes that I should see her boat approaching, and thus find means of speaking with the person who commanded her.

SERIES of misfortunes had unexpectedly thrown me upon a foreign land, and entirely deprived me of the means of subsistence. I knew not where to apply for relief, or how to avoid the alarming evils that threaten--the law of nature compels me to vioed me on every side. I was on one of the Bahama islands. I could not enjoy the temporary asylum I then possessed longer than two days, without involving myself in debts which I was unable to pay, and consequently bringing my person under the power of individuals, who, I was inclined to suspect, had nothing humane or generous in their characters. I wandered along the seashore, sometimes shuddering at the dreariness of my prospects, and sometimes trembling lest the horrors of want should urge me to obtain the necessaries of life by concealing from others that I was in absolute poverty.

When about a mile distant from the small town where I lodged, my attention was attracted by a schooner lying at anchor behind a projecting point of land. I knew that vessels did not usually moor in such a situation, and inquired at a fisherman, whom I met on the beach, if he could tell me what the schooner did there? "I am not quite sure," returned he, " but I rather suspect she's a pirate. Those on board of her are mostly blacks, and they seem very anxious to keep out of sight. Had she been a fair trader, she would have come into the harbour at once."

This information startled me a good deal. I became excessively agitated without knowing the reason; and felt an anxious desire to repress some idea,that had, as it were, arisen in my mind, without my being conscious of its existence. I left my informant,and seated myself under a cliff. Half of the sun had disappeared below the horizon. I watched his descending orb, and wished I could retard the flight of time, when I reflected, that, after the lapse of two days, I should perhaps be destitute of an asylum, and perishing from want. "Some

Ι

I waited upwards of an hour, but could not discover that those on board made any preparation for coming ashore. It was now dark, and the beach was silent and deserted. I found a small boat lying upon the sand; and, having pushed her off, I cautiously embarked, and began to row towards the schooner-but, after a few strokes of the oars, my resolution almost failed. shuddered at the idea of forming a league with the outcasts of society, and rendering myself amenable to the laws of every civilized nation. The gloom of the night, the calmness of the ocean, and the brightness of the sky, seemed to urge me to reflect upon what I was doing. I did reflect-I looked towards the town-a sense of the wretchedness of my condition struck irresistibly upon my mind,and I pushed furiously forward.

"I must

When I had got within a short distance of the schooner, one of her crew called out, "Avast, avast! who have we here?" On reaching the side of the vessel,I said I wished to see the captain. "What do you want with him?" demanded the same voice. speak with him alone," answered I. The questioner retired to the stern, and I heard the sound of people talking, as if in consultation for a little time. I was then desired to come on board; and, the moment I stepped upon deck, a negro led me towards a man who stood near the helm.

He was very tall and athletic, and of a jet black, and wore only a shirt and white trowsers.

His face had a bold

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