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Dread silence follow'd, and his bold heart sunk.
Have you an axe ?'—the sage replied, “Here's one.'-
Not far from thence-from thence it might be seen-
He said, and moving some few paces back
Oh Fo!' he cried, be not a foe to me,
Her parents in the tea-pot found Bohea-
And much they wish'd, when every wish was vain,
Then weep no more for that united pair,
The Old Ledger.
EING, from my long sedentary habits, not much more locomotive than an oyster, it was with some little difficulty that I resolved to take my physician's advice, and seek in change of air and scene a remedy for the blue and yellow melancholy which too close an attention to business had superinduced.
Those who are accustomed to rove from pillar to post,' and, with no other luggage than their cloak, and a widemouthed, all-devouring carpet-bag, take a trip to France or Holland, cannot conceive the feelings of one long pent up in a dingy office, whose personal know
ledge even of the localities of the great city. itself wherein he toils, is almost limited to the particular tract invariably traversed in his diurnal transit from his lodging to the counting-house. Like a bird bred in a cage, liberty to him proves rather a source of nervous apprehension than enjoyment.
This is more especially the case with a single gentleman who has passed his fiftieth year in the mechanical routine of an office, and who carries his confirmed love of order and regularity to that solitary sanctum, his suburban dormitory, where the people of the house,' from long experience, know his chronometrical habits, and where he finds everything as ready to his hand as the knocker of the street.door.
On the evening of the momentous day I had named as that of my departure, I sat alone in my snug apartment, and contemplated my lares my household gods in silence. I was about to separate from my books, my pictures, and, as I thought in my melancholy mood, from all my earthly comforts. But the die was cast ; although strongly inclined, I was ashamed to retract.
The words of the Earl of Orrery recurred tormentingly to my memory with more than their ordinary force. Whenever we step out of domestic life,' says that nobleman, in search of felicity, we come back again disappointed, tired, and chagrined.' To which consolatory maxim was added the dogma of old James, our book-keeper, who was as great a stayat-home as a snail, for the last twenty years not having walked farther west than St. Paul's Churchyard, and whose usual peregrinations were limited to a stroll on Tower Hill or the wharf at the Custom House, where he declared the air was as fine and fresh as mortal could desire. When a man is rich,' quoth James, there is no pillow so soft as his own; when he is well, he certainly requires no other.
Among other things which disquieted me, strange to say, was the vision of the sweeper of a certain crossing which I daily used, to whom for years I had regularly paid my penny. I thought he might calculate upon the weekly expense in part payment of his miserable lodging --for it had become a sort of certain income,—and I accused myself of selfishness in not having remembered him, and paid the paltry stipend in advance !
The morning came, and at the appointed hour old Smith appeared at the door to escort me, and carry my luggage to the steam-vessel which was to transport me to-Gravesend !
The garrulity of the old man cheered my spirits. He said he was quite sure the jaunt would do me a world of good, and that, for his part, he thought it was wrong to (stew' myself up month after month, and stick so close to the desk as I had done, especially as I had latterly been so 'peaking and queer, and was morally certain that I should come back as fresh as a daisy, and be better than ever. This did encourage me, I must confess, and I followed him as he elbowed through the motley crowd assembled at the wharf, and 'made way for me with something like alacrity, and seated myself as soon as possible on the nearest bench on the fresh-washed deck. Having slipped a crown into his honest palm, with an injunction to drink my health, Smith departed. Presently, as I looked at the spectators who lined the edge of the wharf, I discerned his jolly countenance peering over their shoulders, and watching me intently,
· Foolish fellow!' thought I, in a peevish humour, ‘he will lose his breakfast; for he must be punctual at the office.'
But still I must honestly confess I felt an indescribable gratification in the consciousness that one at least among that mass looked upon me with affection. This feeling became more intense when the vessel was unmoored, and we fairly started ; for then, and not till then, as if he feared to be recognized, I observed his head thrust forward to watch me as far as his eye could reach ; and when at last I lost sight of his close-cropped, muscular head, it seemed as if the link betwixt me and the greatest city in the world,' was suddenly snapped in twain. The cupola of St. Paul's, the Monument, and the Tower soon vanished
HYSON AND BOHEA.
A TALE OF THE TEA-POT.
BY 'T. T. T.'
· The Tea-Tree' of Tee-to-tum is the most celebrated of all Chinese didactic poems, and is one of those great and elaborate works to the production of which the labour of a life is necessary. The story of Hyson and Bohea, of which the following is not a slavish translation, may be considered as perhaps the most pathetic of its episodes.
Tee-to-tum did not misemploy his genius, and his toil was not illrewarded; for “The Tea-Tree' may be considered the great national poem of the Chinese.
The history of Tee-to-tum is somewhat remarkable. It is related that he was cradled in a tea-chest, and that tea not only formed his earliest diet, but that through life he took no other nourishment. He lived in a retired tea-garden in the district of Sing-te; his house and his furniture were formed of tea wood, and the dry branches of tea-trees served him as fuel. He lived to a green old age, and his death was occasioned by an accident similar to that which terminated the days of Anacreon ; only that the Chinese poet was choked, not by a grape-stone, but by a tea-stem.
His poem is very voluminous, being divided into two hundred books, or, as he calls them, branches. Each branch comprises full a thousand • leaves ;' not indeed leaves of two pages each ; but the single verses of Tee-to-Tum are called 'tea-leaves' by the people of the Celestial Land. His industry was remarkable : not a day passed without his adding to or correcting his poem.
Muse of the Central Land, whose soothing power