And, when I bilked the drenching of the spray,
Her feeble cheer would join my shrill huzza!
Much would I prattle of the passing sail,

When scudding fast before the favouring gale.
Much of the finny tenants of the wave,

Much of the " sinking sands," and "mermaid's cave;" Much of the hidden treasures of the deep,

Where many crews of gallant sailors sleep

The sleep that needs nor couch nor downy pillow!
Nor constant lulling of the rolling billow!—
And when the Sabbath brought its heavenly calm,
With chime of bell, and voice of simple psalm,
How pleased was I to seek the house of prayer,
My hand in hers! With what a solemn air—
Precocious mannikin!-I took my seat!
Far was the flooring from my dangling feet,
Unwelcome neighbours of the muslin gown
Of buckram spinster, whose forbidding frown
And jerking jog, and eye as fierce as cat's,
Denounced both marriage and its plaguy brats!
But my old maid would draw me to her side,
With shoes and all, and looked so gratified
When I would note the text in holy book,
From which the man of God his counsel took,
And still would help her fading sight to trace
Th' appointed service to its proper place.
And when some pettish mood or froward pranks
Procured me something in the shape of thanks
(For some transgression of a high command),
From dreaded ferule, or the ready hand,
Bent on performance of the parent's duty,
In stern accordance with the moral beauty
Of that same proverb which seems rather odd

To all who feel the fondling of the rod;

How she would strive to soothe my little grief,
And to my faults would still refuse belief!

Of some "bad boy" she now and then would hear,
Yet sure she was it could not be "her dear!"
And when, with coming years, I laid aside
The child-the boy-for the gay stripling's pride,
And stepp'd abroad in all the confidence
Of what I deemed my own matured sense,
Careless of counsel-of success secure-
In hope, so rich !—in caution, very poor!
With what delight she viewed my ripening years—
Myself the centre of her hopes and fears!

At length, I helped to lay her reverend head
Gently upon her last and lowly bed.

Still to her grave my pensive steps I bend,
To bless my early venerable friend!
Ah! often 'midst the tumults of the strife
Of joys and sorrows in my after life,
Would I bethink me of my good old maid,
And e'en would fancy that her friendly shade
(If such permission to the saints were given)
Might steal a moment from the bliss of heaven
To touch my heart!-Did not the contrite tear-
My better thoughts-bespeak her presence near?
How dear, O memory! thy reflective power
To render back the bygone happy hour!
Too oft, alas thou only bringest gloom
From the dim precincts of the beacon-tomb
Of days departed !—When thou dost display
A pleasing dream of some past halcyon day,
We yearn for joys that never must return,
As fondly as we vainly clasp the cherished urn !

CRITICISM ON ADDISON.

ADDISON is justly regarded as one of the earliest and greatest improvers of the English language. During a period, which some have been pleased to consider the Augustan age of English Literature, his style was esteemed the standard of elegant composition. Although he is by no means an absolutely faultless author, and more recent usage has rendered his style in some respects antiquated, yet there are few writers whose style can be more safely recommended as a general model for imitation. The style of Addison is, generally speaking, extremely simple and unaffected. It is perspicuous and pure in a very remarkable degree; and if occasionally it is not very precise, it is at least as much so as his subject requires. In the construction of his sentences he is distinguished by graceful ease and insinuating melody. He often displays a rich vein of figurative language, which greatly enhances the beauty of his manner. Although he was careful, even to fastidiousness, in polishing his style, yet it bears no obtrusive marks of labour, no appearance

of constraint, but a happy union of elegance, simplicity, and ease. The moral characteristics of his works are of a very high order. All his writings are distinguished by a spirit of modesty, of urbanity, of philanthropy, and. of devotion to the great interests of religion and morality, which is as creditable to his heart, as the merely intellectual excellences of his style are to his head. If, in any respects, he is deficient, it is, as already remarked, in precision and strength; a circumstance which renders his style more suitable to such works as the Spectator, than to those which require a higher and more elaborate kind of composition. This defect, however, may have naturally arisen from the light nature of some of the subjects of which he treats, and the peculiar manner which he thought fit to adopt in order to secure a favourable reception from the public for others of a graver character. The more we consider the character of the age in which he wrote, the greater will the merit of Addison's writings appear in effecting a remarkable revolution in our literature, the beneficial effects of which have been transmitted through succeeding years, and are still conspicuous at the present day. True it is that, before his time, various writers had appeared who had exhibited unquestionable proofs of the vast capabilities of our language; yet, while these were distinguished for originality of thought, and masculine energy of style, they were frequently

deficient in that purity, harmony, simplicity, and polished grace, which Addison displayed in so remarkable a degree as mainly to contribute to the fixation of the English language. We shall now proceed to consider the most remarkable points, both in sentiment and style, in that paper of the Spectator, from the pen of Addison, which is the proper subject of this essay. In endeavouring, however imperfectly, to execute this task, we trust we shall experience that measure of indulgence to which its difficulty is entitled. The subject of the paper is Westminster Abbey. It so happens that a distinguished writer of the present day (Washington Irving) has treated the same subject in one of his essays in the Sketch Book. An occasional comparison of the different ways in which these two distinguished writers handle the same topic cannot fail to prove an interesting and profitable employment. The subject of this essay appears to us to have been peculiarly suited to the genius of Addison. The reflections to which a survey of this venerable cathedral naturally give rise, are of that pensive, moral, and religious character which are much akin to the subjects of many of Addison's most successful efforts. For example, the train of thought which might be supposed to be suggested by an edifice in which repose the ashes of many of the great and good of a series of ages, must be of a kindred nature with that which is so beautifully