Thou art like our existence, and thy waves, Illustrious river! seem the very type Of those events which drive us to our graves, Or rudely place us in misfortune’s gripe! Thou art an emblem of our changeful state, Smooth when the summer magnifies thy charms. But rough and cheerless when the winds create Rebellion, and remorseless winter arms The elements with ruin! In thy course The ups and downs of fortune we may trace-- One wave submitting to another’s force, The boldest always foremost in the race: And thus it is with life--sometimes its calm Is pregnant with enjoyment’s sweetest balm; At other times, its tempests drive us down The steep of desolation, while the frown Of malice haunts us, till the friendlier tomb Protects the victim she would fain consume! B. W. R. _Upper Park Terrace._ * * * * * ADVICE. Would a man wish to offend his friends?--let him give them advice. Would a lover know the surest method by which to lose his mistress?--let him give her advice. Would a courtier terminate his sovereign’s partiality?--let him offer advice. In short, are we desirous to be universally hated, avoided, and despised, the means are always in our power.--We have but _to advise_, and the consequences are infallible. The friendship of two young ladies though apparently founded on the rock of eternal attachment, terminated in the following manner: “My dearest girl, I do not think your figure well suited for dancing; and, as a sincere friend of yours, I _advise_ you to refrain from it in future.” The other naturally affected by such a _mark_ of sincerity, replied, “I feel very much obliged to you, my dear, for your _advice_; this proof of your friendship demands some return: I would sincerely recommend you to relinquish your singing, as some of your upper notes resemble the melodious squeaking of the feline race.” The _advice_ of neither was followed--the one continued to sing, and the other to dance--and they never met but as enemies. * * * * * [Illustration: ~Tommy Sly, of Durham.~] _For the Table Book._