who searches all hearts, and rewards those seamen who have done their duty." Here he ceased, while D---- turned to his wife, whose loud sobs gave witness to the sympathy of her heart; but the agony increased to hysteric convulsions--she sprang hastily on her feet--shrieked, "'Tis he! 'tis William! 'tis my uncle!" and fell upon his neck!--_Literary Magnet_. [2] Founded on facts which actually occurred in Devonshire, a short time after the peace of 1815. * * * * * STANZAS. (_For the Mirror_.) Oh! poverty, thou tyrant of the mind, How eager would I shun thy cold embrace, And try some hospitable shore to find! Some welcome refuge; some more happy place. But ah! the stars shone adverse at my birth, Tho' boyish pleasures all my youth beguil'd, And little thought amidst those scenes of mirth, That I was doom'd to be misfortune's child. At last the haggard wretch is come; and I, Like some poor hark, toss'd by the mighty wave, Am solitary left, nor have wherewith to fly Her dread embrace, save to man's friend--the grave. No hope, alas! possesses now my mind, Plung'd in the deepest gulf of penury; No earthly friend, to pity none inclined; To soothe the bitter pang of misery. 'Tis hope that raises us to heaven, While pure affection breathes no other love, And makes to those to whom it's given A something like a paradise above. Alas! for me no earthly paradise awaits; No true affection nor no friendly tear; Spurn'd at by _friends_, and scorned at by the _great_; And all that poverty can bring is here. Then hail thou grateful visitant, oh death, And stop the troubled ocean of my breast: Lull the rude waves; nor let my parting breath E'er cause a sigh, or break one moment's rest. Then when my clay-cold form shall bid adieu, Hid in its parent's bosom, kindred earth, Let not the errors e'er appear in view, But turn from them, and only speak his worth. J.A. * * * * * THE SKETCH BOOK. No. XLVI. * * * * * THE CONVERSATION OF ACTORS.