Summer blossoms soon decay; “Gather the rose-buds while you may!” Barter not for sordid store Health and peace; nor covet more Than may serve for frugal fare With some chosen friend to share! Not for others toil and heap, But yourself the harvest reap; Nature smiling, seems to say, “Gather the rose-buds while you may!” Learning, science, truth sublime, Fairy fancies, lofty rhyme, Flowers of exquisite perfume! Blossoms of immortal bloom! With the gentle virtues twin'd, In a beauteous garland bind For your youthful brow to-day,-- “Gather the rose-buds while you may!” Life is short--but not to those Who early, wisely pluck the rose. Time he flies--to us 'tis given On his wings to fly to Heaven. Ah! to reach those realms of light, Nothing must impede our flight; Cast we all but Hope away! “Gather the rose-buds while we may!” Now a sail up or down the river has always been pleasant to us in proportion as it has proved barren of adventure. A collision with a coal-barge or steam-packet,--a squall off Chelsea Reach, may do vastly well to relieve its monotony: but we had rather be dull than be ducked. We were therefore glad to find the water smooth, the wind and tide in our favour, and no particular disposition on the part of the larger vessels to run us down. Mr. Bosky, thinking that at some former period of our lives we might have beheld the masts and sails of a ship, the steeple of a church, the smoke of a patent shot manufactory, the coal-whippers weighing out their black diamonds, a palace, and a penitentiary, forbore to expatiate on the picturesque objects that presented themselves to our passing view; and, presuming that our vision had extended beyond some score or two of garden-pots “all a-growing, all a-blow-ing,” and as much sky as would cover half-a-crown, he was not over profuse of vernal description. But, knowing that there are as many kinds of minds as moss, he opened his inquisitorial battery upon the waterman. At first Barney Binnacle, though a pundit among the wet wags of Wapping Old Stairs, fought shy; but there is a freemasonry in fun; and by degrees he ran through all the changes from the simple leer to the broad grin and horse-laugh, as Mr. Bosky “poked” his droll sayings into him. He had his predilections and prejudices. The former were for potations drawn from a case-bottle presented to him by Mr. Bosky, that made his large blue lips smack, and his eyes wink again; the latter were