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The towering cedars tall and strong, On Taurus and Mount Lebanon,

In time they all decay; Yet from their old and wasted roots, At length again grow up young shoots, That are as fresh and gay; Then why should we Thus fear to die, Whose death brings life for aye ?

The seed that in the earth we throw Doth putrify before it grow,

Corrupting in its urn; But at the spring it flourisheth, When Phoebus only cherisheth With life at his return. Doth Times' Sun this ? Then sure it is Time's Lord can more perform.

Haothokfi.

The following curious advertisement appeared in a provincial paper in May, 1818.

One who has basked in the sunshine of fortune, without deriving happiness from affluence, whose associate! have been numerous, and observations indefatigable, has discovered that whatever pretext was advanced, whatever visor was assumed, self-interest prompted every act, and guided every design. Th,e mask that veiled