benefit will not fail to result from them even in their lowest degree. |

The idea of the Supreme Being, has this' peculiar property that, as it admits of no substitute, so, from the first moment it is impressed, it is capable of | continual growth, and enlargement. God himself is immutable; but our conception of his character, | is continually receiving fresh acces.sions, is continually growing more extended and refulgent, by having transferred upon it new perceptions of beauty, and good.ness; by attracting to itself, as a centre, whatever bears the impress of dignity, or'der, or happiness. | It borrows splendor from all that is fair, subordinates to itself all that is great', | and sits enthroned on the riches of the universe. |

THE THREE WARNINGS.

(MRS. THRALE.)

The tree of deepest root, is found |
Least willing still to quit the ground:|
"T was therefore said by ancient sages, |
That love of life increas'd with years |
So much, that, in our latter stages, |
When pains grow sharp, and sickness rages, |
The greatest love of life appears. I

This great affection to believe, |
Which all confess, but few perceive, |
If old assertions can't prevail, |

Be pleas'd to hear a modern tale.]

When sports went round, and all were gay,¦
On neighbor Dodson's wedding-day, |

Death call'd aside the jocund groom

With him, into another room; |

And looking grave

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"You must," says he, |

'Quit your sweet bride', | and come with me.'

"With you'! and quit my Susan's side'!|
With you!" 'the hapless husband cried,;|
Young as I am, 't is monstrous_hard! |
Beside, in truth, I'm not prepar'd: ¦
My thoughts on other matters go; |
This is my wed'ding-day, you know."|
What more he urg'd, I have not heard, |
His reasons could not well be stronger;|
So Death the poor delinquent spar'd, |
And left to live a little longer. |
Yet, calling up a serious look-

('His hour-glass trembled while he spoke) |
2. Neighbor," he said, "farewell. No more
Shall Death disturb your mirthful hour、;|
And farther, to avoid all blame |
Of cruelty upon my name, |

To give you time for preparation, |
And fit you for your future station, |
Three several war'nings you shall have, |
Before you're summon'd to the grave.|
Willing for once, I'll quit my prey', |
And grant a kind reprieve, |

In hopes you'll have no more to say`;!
But, when I call again this way, |

Well pleas'd the world will leave." |
To these conditions both consen'ted,'}
And parted perfectly contented. |

What next the hero of our tale befell, |
How long he liv'd, how wise', how well, {
How roundly he pursued his course, |

And smok'd his pipe', and strok'd his horse',
The willing muse shall tell.:!

he sold, I

He chaffer'd then, he bought',
Nor once perceiv'd his growing old',

Nor thought of Death as near,; |

His friends not false', his wife no shrew',¦
Many his gains', his children few,,|

S

a

He pass'd his hours in peace.

But, while he view'd his wealth increase, Į
While thus along Life's dusty road,|
The beaten track content he trod,|

Old Time, whose haste no mortal spares, |
Uncall'd', unheeded, unawares1, |
Brought on his eightieth year. I

And now, one night, in musing mood, |
As all alone he sate, |

The unwelcome messenger of Fate, [
Once more before him stood. I

Half kill'd with anger, and surprise, |
"So soon return'd'!" | 'old Dodson cries,, |
2" So soon, d'ye call it?" | 'Death replies,: |
"Surely, my friend, you're but in jest! |
|
Since I was here before |

'Tis six-and-thirty years', at least,"

And you are now fourscore." |

"So much the worse," 'the clown rejoin'd, |
To spare the aged would be kind:]
However, see your search be le'gal; !
And your author'ity is 't re'gal?!
|
Else you are come on a fool's' errand, |
With but a secretary's warrant.

Beside, you promis'd me Three War'nings |
Which I have look'd for nights, and mornings!{
But, for that loss of time, and ease, |

I can recover dam'ages.” |

"I know," cries Death, "that, at the best',
I seldom am a welcome guest; |
But don't be captious, friend, at least: 1
I little thought you'd still be able |
To stump about your farm', and stable; |
Your years have run to a great length; |
I wish you joy, though, of your strength.!" |

But in jest; not button jest. b Years at least; not years'at-least

"Hold," says the farmer, "not so fast!
I have been lame these four years past."
"And no great won'der," | Death replies、:|
"However, you still keep your eyes';]
And sure, to see one's loves, and friends, |
For legs, and arms, would make amends." |
Perhaps," says Dodson, "so it might`, |
But latterly, I've lost my sight.." |

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"This is a shocking tale, 't is true, |
But still there's comfort left for you:|
Each strives your sadness to amuse
I warrant you hear all the news." |
"There's none'," cries he;" and, if there were, |
I'm grown so deaf, I could not hear.”|
"Nay, then," | the spectre stern_rejoin'd、,|
These are unjus'tifiable yearnings; |

If you are Lame', and Deaf', and Blind', |
You've had your Three sufficient Warnings.]
So, come along, no more we'll part;" |
He said, and touch'd him with his dart. |
And now, old Dodson turning pale, |

Yields to his fate, so ends my tale. I

THE CHAMELEON; OR, PERTINACITY EXPOSED.
(MERRICK.)

Oft has it been my lot to mark |
A proud, conceited, talking spark,
With eyes that hardly serv'd at most', |
To guard their master 'gainst a post; |
Yet round the world the blade has been, ]
To see whatever could be seen: |
Returning from his finish'd tour, |
Grown ten times perter than before. ; |
Whatever word you chance to drop, |
The travell'd fool your mouth will stop.:!

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Sir, if my judgment you'll allow

I've seen and sure I ought to know." |
So, begs you'd pay a due submission,
And acquiesce in his decision. |

Two travellers of such a cast, |
As o'er Arabia's wilds they pass'd, I
And on their way, in friendly chat, |
Now talk'd of this', and then of that', |
Discours'd a while, 'mongst other matter, |
Of the Chameleon's form, and nature. |

"A stranger animal," cries one,
"Sure never liv'd beneath the sun! |
A lizard's body, I lean, and long, |
A fish's head, a serpent's tongue,
Its foot with triple claw disjoin'd
And what a length of tail' behind! |
How slow, its pace! | and then, its hue'-t
Who ever saw so fine a blue, ?" |

"Hold there," the other quick replies, | ""Tis green' I saw it with these eyes', | As late with open mouth, it lay,

And warm'd it in the sunny ray; |
Stretch'd at its ease, the beast I view'd', |
And saw it eat the air for food." |

"I've seen it, friend, as well as you', |
And must again affirm it blue.. |
At leisure, I the beast survey'd', |
Extended in the cooling shade.” |

"'Tis green', 't is green', I can assure ye."!
"Green" 'cries the other in a fury,
26 Why', do you think I've lost my eyes'?" |
"'T were no great loss," the friend replies,, !
"For, if they always serve you thus',
You'll find them but of little use." |