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more pious and humane Jews; and our Lord assures them that, if they do this in his name, they shall not lose their reward.-Harmer.
No. XV. A LETTER TO A VERY JUVENILE FRIEND,
COLLEGE, IN THE COUNTY OF YORK.
(Without one c soft, s, x, or 2.) MY DEAR HARRY,
You were very young at the time, and therefore may not remember that while you and I were living together, a gentleman from Poland complained of being unable to find a couplet in our language without c soft, s, x, or %. Now I greatly admire our noble and beautiful native tongue, and never could I bear to hear it calumniated without endeavouring to defend, what can, indeed, be defended with perfect truth; therefore I immediately began to rhyme, and within a quarter of an hour obliged the Pole to own that more than one couplet could be written without a letter annoying to the ear of a foreigner. “But,” replied he, “ I do not believe an account of the horror of war, attacking a town, the grief and fear of the women, and the like, could be given without employing one word or more that would remind you of the adder tribe when provoked.' Before the end of the week, I read to him the “ Fragment "copied for you at the end of my letter.
The thought occurred to my mind to-day that it would be improving were you now and then to relate an adventure, or write a note, or, if you prefer it, a little poetry, omitting every letter objected to by the afore-named gentleman. Or you might try to begin nearly every word with a b or a d. In my opinion, it would lead to your acquiring a good method of communicating an idea, to clothe it now in one garb, and then in another: at any rate, it would add the beauty of variety; and that ought not to be deemed unimportant. How do we know but you may one day become an author ?
When you learn that I took up my pen intending to tell you of a prank lately played in our village, you will think it high time for me to begin. One night in February, an individual (or it may
have been more than one) cleverly took off, and carried away, the knocker from nearly every dwelling in that part of Walmer near our abode. You are aware that we live not far from the Duke of Wellington, the renowned hero of Waterloo. People have imagined that the man or men, were inebriated; but I think a drunken man would not have managed cleverly enough to avoid being found out. Whether the performer of the feat were wicked, or rather mad, or only a little idiotic, we do not yet know. I hope, my dear boy, you will never play a trick likely to injure any body, particularly a female.
Real harm might have been done to the aged and feeble, who are often alarmed by a trifle in the dead of night. Two women, who live near a friend of mine, hearing an odd kind of fumbling or rumbling at the front of their dwelling, trembled with terror, jumped out of bed, and bolted or locked their room-door, apprehending robbery, if not murder. You may readily think how the people looked in the morning, and how every woman loudly clamoured, or quietly wondered what had become of her knocker! The lettercarrier took about a great pebble, in order to rap wherever he had to leave a letter. I believe many a door will long remain without a new knocker; for in the beginning of the year we heard of the like prank being played both here, and in the neighbouring town of Deal, and people do not like to lay out money for what will benefit no
While writing the above, I had to lay down the pen in order to remove my beautiful Eolian harp, (the gift I told you of a little while ago,) the current of air through the window being too powerful I find to-day. O how I love the melody in a mild May morning! I warn you that in the village of Walmer we have very windy weather. Will you, when replying, begin nearly every word with w? If you prefer l or p, you will find little difficulty in either letter, provided your note be not long. Hoping you will continue good and happy, I remain,
My dear boy,
ELIZA WEAVER BRADBURN.
THE FRAGMENT Referred to in the foregoing Letter. View that terrible army in fury draw nigh, The town to bombard we built lately on high : The heart of the mother will tremble with fear, The timid and gentle drop many a tear Of faithful, fond love, when the good and the brave, That die to defend them, are cold in the grave. Fly, warrior, fly! to the rampart repair, Cannonading and carnage already are there; With the ram, a famed engine of wonderful power, Hark, hark, how they batter yon fortified tower! With a deafening roar hear it fall to the ground ! But our foemen are conquer'd, are falling around, Before royal Henry, for valour renown'd. The loud din of battle he heard, the alarm Proclaim’d by the trumpet, commanding to arm. He flew, the brave hero! the patriot King ! Relief he delay'd not one moment to bring. Barnsley, 1839.
E. W. B.
THE LOST SHILLING.
A TRUE STORY.
“Do tell me a story, a true story," was the earnest request of little Mary Russell one day, to a friend who had frequently gratified her in a similar manner on former occasions. “Tell you a story? well, what must it be about?" was the reply. "O! I should like to hear about something that you did when you were a little girl, like me.” “Indeed, Mary,” replied her friend, “I do not know that ever I did anything very remarkable when I was a child, with the exception of once swallowing a shilling." Do, do tell me about it,” eagerly interrupted Mary. “Well, then, you must know I was about six years old, just such another as yourself: indeed, I think rather more giddy and careless. I was sent by my mamma to the servant with a shilling, for the purchase of something she needed: instead of giving it immediately to the person to whom it was sent, I amused myself with it, put it into my mouth, and, unfortunately, swallowed it.
“My alarm was very great: I durst not tell mamma, as I was sure she would be distressed about the probable consequences : so I said it had fallen into the fire. Of course a severe reprimand followed my carelessness; but, O! the distress of mind that lie occasioned me for many succeeding years. I had deceived my parents, but I could not deceive an all-seeing God. Never, my dear Mary, tell a falsehood, even though it may be to screen yourself from severe punishment. As I told you before, I was about six years of age, and for a period of eight years, (the length of time I concealed my sin,) I believe scarcely a day passed when it was not brought to my remembrance. I had been early trained by my beloved parents in the knowledge that all sin is hateful in the sight of God; the good Spirit of God had striven with me, ever since I could remember anything; and I did