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line may be drawn from the confluence of the rivers Piscatagnis and Penobscot in Maine, to the same river Chandiere, and down the Penobscot to Castine, continuing it out at sea to the Isle Haute. This would include an important coast, well stored with islands and harbours."

“ The opportunity, we apprehend, has gone by for making these desirable arrangements as to the boundaries, and there is unquestionably some rational ground for regret, that among the British commissioners at Ghent, there was not one intimately ac. quainted with the topography of the country concerning whose destinies they were appointed to deliberate. Much disappointment is accordingly felt in the provinces, and the best informed people there hesitate not to assert that their interests have either not been understood or miserably neglected, in framing the late treaty. We do not hold ourselves competent to judge on sich matters; but we can feel no hesitation in concurring with the sen. sible and patriotic writer who has suggested these remarks, in the opinion, that there is no people on earth who will so readily as the Americans, take advantage of an oversight, and that, in short, Great Britain never had an enemy more to be dreaded.

“We give the author thanks for the pains which he has taken to rouse the attention of the public to this most important subject. He has stated facts strongly and fearlessly, and evidently too with the feelings of a man who loves his country. Perhaps he does not perceive, as clearly as he ought, the difficulties which are to be surmounted in the creation of a new system; and seems occasionally to forget, that it is the duty of governments rather to guide than excite every impulse on the part of the people. We concede to him, at the same time, that cmigration at present would be a national blessing, and that of all parts in the world, Canada is the colony to which it ought to be directed.”

A fellow snatched a diamond ear-ring from a lady; but it slipping through his fingers, and falling into her lap, he lost his booty. The doubt was, whether it was a taking from her person. How frivolous! was there not plainly an assault, and an intention to rob? But there are many of the like quirks and frivolities in our law.

Ships, in most languages, are females, and they speak of them as such; is it not then absurd to give them the names of men, as Atlas, Ajax, Royal George, &c.? and will it not occasion often strange solecisms in the language of mariners?

Our Bibles mostly preserve the different cases of the plural English pronoun ye and you; and our grammarians also attend to this. Why then will not people conform to rule, and write grammatically, and use yc for the nominative case?

POETRY.-FOR THE PORT FOLIO.

ADIEU TO THE MUSE.

Written after reading Milton's Penseroso.
Hence, now the poet's life forlorn,
Of Vanity and Fancy born,
'Tis but a wild, delusive joy,
And shall no more my peace annoy.
Find out, oh muse, some garret high,
Where sits the bard with haggard eye.
There Poverty his bosom wrings,
And the starv'd cricket nightly sings.
By dying coals I see him sit,
With naught to warm but sparks of wit.
See him, with hunger how perplex'd,
Or how with sonnets he is vex’d.
I hear the girl, by landlord sent
To dun him for his quarter's rent:
But though he gives a muse's note,
It will not stop her cursed throat.

No, no, sweet muse, I quit the train;
No more I'll sing the tuneful strain.
Without a sigh I quit the hill,
The painted mead, the babbling rill:
The rustling trees, the nodding grove,
Where oft in rhyme I wrote of love.
No more I dream of maidens fair,
With azure eyes and auburn hair;
Of youthful nymphs, whose sad disdain,
Has waken'd all my bosom’s pain,
(Though all the pain was in my pen;
But tell not this, sweet muse, again.)
No more I'll watch the midnight oil,
Biting my nails in rhyming toil;
Calling on every muse and grace

But for an hour to take my place,
VOL. IV.

And write some soft and tender sonnet
On lady's eye-brow or her bonnet;
Nor call on Love to cast his dart,
And wound some fair one's throbbing heart,
Who so afflicts this breast of mine,
That I can neither sleep nor dine.

So pretty muse, pray take your flight; Away you go this very night. Though we have pass'd bright hours together, And this is cursed chilly weather, Yet tramp you must before I waver, Seduced again by your palaver. But come, thou judge, sedate and sage, Come, and unfold thy learned page. Oh! how shall I thy name invoke? Chief justice, or my master Coke! Whose ancient visage is so rough To me it seems quite in a huff. Thy wig and gown tell what thou art, And terrors strike within my heart. Thy firm fix'd eye and scowling frown, Are quite enough to knock one down: I do confess I've been a truant, But prythee take a milder view on't. Think, judge, how many a Caroline, A Susan, Sall, and Emmeline, Trip by the door, and with a look, Entice us from thy crabbed book; Which is the very sort of writing, That Job did wish his foe inditing; For all the plagues which he did bear, With thy perusal can't compare:

I mean, to youths of ardent heart,
- By thy commands compell’d to part

With all the sports of opening age,
The turf, the dance, the mimic stage:

To study quirks and find out tricks,
Each morn and eve of hours full six,
Six hours to sleep, and four to pray,
Is what thou orderest every day.
But two to eat, whate'er the food,
Sour-crout, accurst, or beef steak, good.
Then-lest our trade, with plots so thick,
Should headlong drive us to Old Nick,-
What time is left-in spite of qualms,
Must all be spent in singing psalms.
Why Satan fled from David's fiddle,
Has long been deem'd a puzzling riddle:
But Shakespeare's page will make it plain,
And Avon's aid I ne'er disdain.
Old Nick was full of plots and wiles,
All which he scorn'd to cloak with smiles;
He had no “music in his soul;">
His feelings he could ne'er control;
But lawyers better act their part,
They seem to love the tuneful art;
Though discord is the darling stream,
Which floats their barks to wealth and fame.
Thus 'tis we say, though quite uncivil,
A GUNNING LAWYER BEATS THE DEVIL!

Give ear, LORD Core, to what I sing! Take what a truant fain would bring, Exert the force to thee belongs, Protect thy son and burn his songs: In silken strings his muse, oh! bind: Be to his Fair a little kind: To reading grave restrain his rage, And chain him to thy grimmest page. Not fee-less then his days may pass, When he forgets each smiling lass, And stead of frowns, and blush and dimple, He dreams of fees--in tail or simple,

Thee, Common Law, in days of yore,
To that grave wizard, STUDY, bore,
In Albion's great Eliza's reign,
Nor was such mixture held a stain.
Oft in the Pleas and in the bench, *
With eager feet he sought the wench:
And there be strove her heart to woo,
And did what every judge should do.t
Then through the realm he spread your naines,
Notwithstanding proud king James.

Come, steadfast judge, so wise and grave,
And bring both Butler and Hargrave;
With sheets about the folio size,
And notes to please the student's eyes:
Black-letter type, and Norman French,
Which erst was used on the bench.
Or rather cheer the weary way,
With such a guide as Mr. Day. I
Come, but keep thy frowning state,
Or I, again, in rhyme shall prate.
Give me thy mind, thy piercing look,

That I may understand thy book,
And, kept within my office still,
Study myself “ to marble,” till,
“ With a sad, leaden, downward cast,"
I am a limb of law at last.

* C. P. and B. R.

| Alluding to the answer which lord Coke made to king James, upou being asked whether certain oppressive exactions, which were about to be levied by royal authority, would be legal. All the other judges replied that the king's will was law; but Coke sturdily said, that when the cause came before him as a judge, he would do what a judge ought to do.—SCRIBLERUS.

Here I apprehend our author hath reference to master Day, of Connecticut, a right worthy son of the law, who bath lately put forth a new edition of Co. Litt., enriched with a commentary which bears a goodly testimony of his patient labour and learned reading.–SCRIBLERUS.

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