except as it
gave him power--power to ride in his state coach, to throw wide his
doors to hospitality, to load his table with plate, and his shelves with
learning; power to adorn his church with chandeliers and painted
windows; to make glad the cottages of his poor; to grant a loan, to a
tottering farmer; to rescue from want a forlorn patriot, or a thriftless
scholar. Whether misfortune, or mismanagement, or folly, or vice, had
brought its victim low, his want was a passport to Parr's pity, and the
dew of his bounty fell alike upon the evil and the good, upon the just
and the unjust. It is told of Boerhaave, that, whenever he saw a
criminal led out to execution, he would say, "May not this man be better
than I? If otherwise, the praise is due, not to me, but to the grace of
God." Parr quotes the saying with applause. Such, we doubt not, would
have been his own feelings on such an occasion.--_Quarterly Review_.

* * * * *

THE GATHERER

A snapper up of unconsidered trifles.
SHAKSPEARE.

* * * * *

SONG FROM THE ITALIAN OF P. ROLLI.

Babbling current, would you know
Why I turn to thee again,
'Tis to find relief from woe,
Respite short from ceaseless pain.

I and Sylvio on a day
Were upon thy bank reclin'd,
When dear Sylvio swore to me,
And thus spoke in accents kind:

First this flowing tide shall turn
Backward to its fountain head,
Dearest nymph, ere thou shall mourn,
Thy too easy faith betray'd.

Babbling current, backward turn,
Hide thee in thy fountain head;
For alas, I'm left to mourn
My too easy faith betray'd.

Love and life pursu'd the swain,
Both must have the self-same date,
But mine only he could mean,
Since his love is turn'd to hate.

Sure some fairer nymph than I,
From me lures the lovely youth,
Haply she receives like me,
Vows of everlasting truth.

Babbling current should the fair
Stop to listen on thy shore,
Bid her, Sylvio, to beware,
Love and truth he oft had sworn.

T.H.

* * * * *

THE SPRING AND THE MORNING,

_A Ballad._

_Written by Sir Lumley Skeffington, Bart._
_Inscribed to Miss Foote_.

When the frosts of the Winter, in mildness were ending,
To April I gave half the welcome of May;
While the Spring, fresh in youth, came delightfully blending
The buds