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America.—The Boston Humane Society lately celebrated the anniversary of their institution. After the election of officers, and other business of the anniversary, the society went in procession to the chapel church, where, after prayers, by the Rev. Mr. Gray, a scientific discourse, embracing the great objects of the society, was pronounced by Dr. John C. Howard ; and the following original Ode, written by R. T. Paine, jun. esq. was sung by Mrs. Jones.

Spirit of the Vital Flame.


O’er the swift flowing stream, as the tree broke in air,

Plung'd a youth in the tyrannous wave;
No ear heard his shriek; faint with toil and despair,

He sunk, and was whelm’d in his grave!

RECITATIVE. See humanity's angel alight on the scene! Tho' the shadows of death have dissembled his mien, See his corse is redeem’d from the stream's icy bed, And a mother's wild grief shrieks, “ Alas! he is dead!"

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To human prayer benignant heaven
The salient spring of life has given;
And Science, while her eye explores
What power the dormant nerve restores,
Surveys the Godhead, and adores ;
And him, the first of glory's clan,
Proclaims, who saves a fellow man!

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Behold, the quick’ning spirit raise
The trembling limb, the wandering gaze!

Instinct listens! memory wakes!

Thought from cold extinction breaks; Reason, motion, frenzy, fear, Religion's triumpb, nature's tear, i Almighty Power, thy hand is here ! While fair religion keeps her standard here, The God of Israel will be ever near; But while we hear from far the din of arms, And Europe feels convulsed with war's alarms, . In this dread time of wrath let Britain pray, That God would cast the threatning sword away, Once more the olive branch of peace bestow, And put an end to sin and death and woe.

Lines on the Funeral Procession of the late Lord

Nelson, January 9, 1806.

See where the Britons crowd with solemn state!
And round the ashes of some hero wait.
Behold them clad, each in a sable vest,
By outward signs their inward grief exprest.
For whom moves all this great funereal show ?
For whom do briny tears of sorrow flow ?
Great Nelson's gone- long England's pride and boast,
The great defender of his native coast.
He's gone—the terror of the tyrant sbore,
Where his loud cannons shall resound no more.
He's gone—the idol of his faithful crew,
Who, at his sigual, prompt with vigour flew.
He's gone—but laurels still shall crown bis head,
He ever lives, tho'number'd with the dead.
The sculptur'd stone shall raise his honours high,
And long the ravages of time defy;
But a more sure, more priz'd, more honor'd place,
The memory of Nelson still shall grace,
Shall sound responsive to his merit's claim,
The grateful bosom, shall preserve his name.

Peace to his shade !—tho' sorrow's deadly darts
So deeply wound, so agonize our hearts, .
Yet, not insensible to mercies left,
We own that God has not our land bereft ;
How many still remain the Trident's boast,
See! for our aid they stand a numerous host,
Their wisdom, courage, and their zeal unite,
To gall our foes, and put their force to flight.
How many brave for us the winds and waves,
Nor start at death, nor shrink from watery graves.
Brave Collingwood, may I thy name resound,
In whom such judgment, and such zeal were found !

By thee, acknowledg'd was the Hand Divine
Who made the palm of victory be thine ;
Thy noble actions, were more noble made,
As humble gratitude thy lips display'd;
While crown'd with conquest, lo! the victors own,
The glory due to God, to God alone.

While thus acknowledg'd is the Lord of Hosts,
We need not fear the proud Philistine's boast;
God is the bulwark of our favour'd land,
And holds the main in his capacious hand. .
He can present the wondrous awful sight:
A thousand chas'd by one, and put to flight:
The swift may not pursue their threaten'd race,
Nor yet the strong subdue the Sons of Grace.

The Courtier's Soliloquy.-Dazzled with the false lustre of ambition, I quitted too precipitately my little walk in life, in hopes of shining among the great. By executing every ministerial commission with which I was charged, with the most servile fidelity, however disagreeable it was to my taste, however repugnant to my conscience, I raised myself, by hasty strides, from obscurity to splendour. By never framing the slightest objections to the commands of my despotic superiors, by always receiving them with humility, and obeying them with swiftness, I have fixed myself in a magnificent situation. I have acquired honours and riches, and should derive no small happiness from the envy which I excite among thousands less successful in the world, did I not feel myself despised by many of the most


respectable men in the nation, whose contempt is the more mortifying to me as I am conscious of deserving it. In vain do my friends (my flatterers rather should I say, for how can we, with any propriety, call those our friends, who studiously endeavour to hide us from ourselves ?) in vain do they bestow on my principles and my parts the most exalted encomiums; in vain would they make me believe that I am a capital pillar of the British constitution : sick of the fawning crew surrounding me from morning to night, I began to nauseate their gross, their surfeiting adulation. My gains, indeed, have been considerable; since I have been a patient persevering drudge in the ministerial road; considerable, too, have been my lashes. What have. I gained ? A ribbon and a pension. What have I lost? My character and my peace.

A captain of an African ship had lately a young tiger on board, which was so civilized, and even humanized, that the beast lay every night for many weeks in the captain's cabin, along with his play-fellow and particular favourite, a Negro boy. The captain being awaked one morning earlier than usual, by the noise and playfulness of the tiger, called to the boy to be quiet, but having no answer from the boy, and the noise still continuing, he looked out of his hammock, and perceived the tiger playing at football with Quamino's head. The cause was this:

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