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ment of his college life, and has at last determined to go into the church, while his brother is to spend his life as a country 'squire. I found him the only person in the house who had any information on subjects more abstruse than dogs, horses, and guns. You know how often he has told us of his father's attachment to field sports; but I had no idea that he carried it to such a pitch. Dinner was at last announced, and I was requested to hand my hostess into the dining parlour, and was placed at her right-hand, with the 'squire at my side-he having resigned the bottom of the table to his two sons. He was remarkably courteous to me; and, before the fish was removed, he had entered upon a most interesting account of some men whom he had found nutting in his woods, and whom, I afterwards found out, were discharged without any punishment; upon which the ’squire had quarrelled with all the justices in the vicinity. He had got through half his story, when he started from his seat, and darting to the window, immediately desired the servant to bring him his hat and stick, and rushed out of the room. I, who had no idea of the cause of this sudden movement, sat perfectly astounded, while the butler, laying down my plate, instantly followed his master. As soon as I had recovered from my surprise, I ventured to ask Mrs. Thornton whether any thing was the matter. Oh, no! said she, my husband only heard a dog barking in the woods, and, on these occasions, never trusts any one but himself. I hope he will discover the rascals, for they disturb us every day by their poaching practices. This, as Frederick afterwards told me, was a common occurrence with his father, who,

although he was rather hard of hearing on other occasions, could, nevertheless, distinguish the bark of a dog at a great distance. After some time the 'squire returned, rather out of humour at not being able to discover the offenders, and vented his spleen in sundry invectives against the mal-administration of the laws, ignorance of country justices, &c. &c. When the cloth was removed, my hostess retreated, and the bottle circulated very freely. I am, as you know, no great advocate for hard drinking, especially after a journey, and accordingly made my escape, by saying that I was excessively tired, and wished to go to bed. I was shown into a room, such a one as you may have read of in the Mysteries of Udolpho, or in any romance in which ghosts form a prominent part. It was hung with tapestry, which was not, as you may guess, in very good repair, and, in short, bore evident marks of being the state room. Whether ghosts do not frequent this apartment, or whether sound sleep prevented my observing them, I do not know; but I did not meet with a single adventure, out of which I could manufacture even a six-penny pamphlet. Early this morning I was awakened by a chorus of dogs in the yard, who were running about as if they were mad. But I did not regret the interruption, as my window looks out upon the most beautiful country you can well imagine. While I was admiring the prospect, I was informed by the breakfast-bell that I was waited for, and therefore hurried down stairs, and found the 'squire breakfasting on beef-steaks and ale, which he strongly recommended to my notice. But, as I am not training for a prize-fight, I preferred a plain cup of tea. The 'squire took my

refusal very quietly, although I saw by his looks he
thought me a great fool. Immediately after breakfast I
was hurried out to see the stables and dog-kennel, and
was forced to hear, from the 'squire's own mouth (who,
by-the-bye, I am told is a very good judge in these mat-
ters), the pedigree of each horse, and the merits and
demerits of every dog. My whole morning was wasted
in this intellectual employment, for it was two o'clock
before I had got through the whole stud, and then we
went to luncheon. I asked Frederick whether he would
take a walk, but I found, not a little to my disappoint-
ment, that he was engaged to go with his father to call
on a gentleman who had a pointer to sell. The 'squire
told me that he would be very happy to introduce me,
adding, that he had one of the best dog-kennels in the
country, and that it was built on a new plan; but, as I
felt no inclination to see either the gentleman or his
kennel, I excused myself on the plea of a head ache;
and, since I did not know what to do with myself, I
determined to give you an account of the commencement
of my fortnight's visit, and to send you my most hearty
congratulations on your not being with me.
going to have a grand dinner-party in a day or two,
from which I hope to derive some amusement, and of
which I will send you an account, if this long letter does
not sicken you of the diary of this place. I am afraid
I have tired you already, so, with best wishes for the
success of No. VIII,

I remain,
Your's truly,

P. M.

We are

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P.S. By-the-bye, send me the Seventh Number; it will be some little relief to me. The 'squire desires me to say, he is very sorry


could not come down with me.

I hope, for your sake, that the regret is not reciprocal.


The Isles of Greece! the Isles of Greece!

Where burning Sappho lov'd and sung,
Where grew the arts of war and peace,

Where Delos rose and Phæbus sprung !

Lord Byron.

It is the hour of even-and the sun

Shines in autumnal splendor o'er the deep,
The orb of light his course hath nearly run,

And the long waves majestically sweep
On the cool breeze, and glist’ning in the spray,
Reflect the glories of the parting day.

Bright is the prospect, and those Grecian Isles,

Like sea-born giants, spring from out the flood ;
Thus were their haughty summits deck'd with smiles,

When the proud Persian ting'd with Asia's blood
The deep, indignant in his blushing waves
To hold a tyrant's minions, Syria's slaves.

Soft blow, ye gales, ye zephyrs gently breathe,

These were the Isles of liberty and Greece, Here laurell’d freedom twin'd her fairest wreath, Here flourish'd arts and arms,

and arms, and dove-wing'd peace; Ali, all are fled !-Yet, ah, forbear to tell Not how Greece flourish'd, but how Grecians fell,

Mute is the voice of triumph, and the sound

Of the hoarse trumpet from mail-fronted war, And meagre want, and pallid care, around,

And Desolation's havoc, reign afar. "Tis silence all—the lover's silvery lute, And the fair virgin's plaintivé song, are mute.

No more with generous animation glows

The free-born spirit of each warrior chief ; But the lone widow'd breast conceals its throes,

In secret pines, and vainly seeks relief; Then left, as if by earth and heav'n accurst, The grief-tost heart must sorrow till it burst.

The sun's bright beams their beauties freely fling,

O'er hill and dale the wild stag freely roves,
And Philomel, if captur'd, would not sing;

Uncag'd, she freely warbles in the groves.
Yon rocky shores th' unfetter'd ocean laves,
Yes !-all are free and ye, oh heav'n! are slaves.

And are the spirits of old ages dumb,

Of Sparta's heroes, of Athena's line ?
And shall no remnant of those warriors come

Who fought the Persian o'er the billowy brine ?
It cannot be! Their sad, their silent doom
Is the cold slumber of the marble tomb.

Could but the shadows of those patriots arm

Bewilder'd Greece !-alas, each hope is gone! Vain ev'n the potency of freedom's charm,

The power that conquer'd, and the light that shone. Yet ʼmid this wreck of all, oh! might there be One soul, that fears not death, lost Greece, for thee.

Yet one there was—but he has pass'd away

Like the faint glories of a summer's dream; He was a noble minstrel, * and his lay

Cast, like a comet, one bright fervid gleam ; His touch could almost rouse the dead, his lyre Warm ev'n those icy hearts with patriot fire.

His voice is whisper'd ’mid the forests now

That rise umbrageous o'er the tempest's shock; I saw his name on Sunium's marble brow,

In characters of light, upon the rock

* Lord Byron.

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