A VERY young author, it is presumed, sends an epitaph upon a mouse, a subect unfortunately chosen, after the beautiful little poem by Burns on that subject. It would perhaps be cruel to refuse it a place altogether to compound the matter, the two first, and the two last lines, which are not the worst in this composition, are subjoined.

"O mouse! thou didst a better fate deserve,
A heroe's glorious death, a heroe's praise.
Forsaken, breathless now thy body lies,
A prey to death, to worms a sacrifice."

J. G. 7. C. obligingly sends several scraps, of which the following are excerpts.

To make a cheap red ink, he desires that the red flowers of the corn poppy may be gathered, boiled in water, and a little gumarabic added to the composition.

He answers a query in a former number of the Bee, inquiring a reason why Highland persons who learn to speak the low country language, always speak it with the English accent, though they learn it in Scotland, by saying first, they may learn it from books written in English, and second, from the English troops who are billeted in private houses, in places where there are no castles or barracks. Neither

of these will be admitted as valid reasons. The greatest part of the persons who thus learn the British language, as he properly enough in this case calls it, never learn to read it at all; and few are the English soldiers billeted in that way in comparison of the Scotch, who every where surround them. The following verses, written in the true ballad stile, (though somewhat limping at times,) is the best part of this collection.

Verses written on an orange

When Heaven and earth were all at peace,
(By ancient bards 'tis told,

By bards the sons of warlike Greece,
Who tun'd the lyre of old :)

Fell discord with a wrathful look,
Beheld the total quiet;

And streight a dire resolve she took,
To breed above a riot.

Amidst the goddesses 'tis said,
A quarrel to foment,
The goldon fruit inscrib'd the laid,
"Unto the fairest sent."

Each claim'd the gift; fell strife arose
Amongst the heavenly fair;

Now first the goddesses were foes;
Now wrathful frowns they wear.

But here no quarrel can arise,

And discord I dety;

Since goddesses nor woman's eyes,

Can with my Dena's vie.

Then, fair one, condescend sans cholar,

Ac.ept the tribute of the muse;

Golden, alas! alone in colour.

But love, not discord to infuse.

'Tis sweeter far than gold, I trust,
Hence Delia learn how better

(Compared with trifles,) is the alluring dust,

And know,“ all are not gold that glitter.”

A correspondent from the Isle of Skye, who signs himself X. W. desires that the following lines copied from a monument in the church of Slate in that island, may be preserved in the Bee. They are said to have been written by the late lord Littleton.

TO THE MEMORY OF SIR JAMES M'Donald Bart,
Who in the flower of youth

Had attained to so eminent a degree of knowledge

In the mathematicks, philosophy, languages;
And in every branch of useful and polite learning,
As few have ever acquired in a long life
Wholly devoted to study;

Yet to this erudition, he joined

What can rarely be found with it,
Great talents for business;

Great propriety of behaviour;
Great politeness of manners.

His eloquence was sweet, correct, and flowing,
His memory vast and exact,
His judgement strong and acute,
All which endowments, united
With the most amiable temper,

And every private virtue,
Procured him, not only in his own country
But also from foreign nations,

The highest marks of esteem.

In the year of our Lord, 1766, the 25th of his life,
After a long and extreme illness,

Which he supported with admirable patience and fortitude,
He died at Rome.

There, notwithstanding the difference of religion,
Such extraordinary honours were paid to his memory,
As had never graced that of any other British subject
In any foreign land,

Since the death of Sir Philip Sidney.

The fame he has left behind him

Is the best consolation to his afflicted family,
And to his countrymen in this isle;

For whose benefit he had planned many useful improvements

Which his fruitful genius suggested,

And his active spirit promoted,

Under the sober direction of a clear and enlightened understanding,

Reader bewail our lofs,

And that of all Britain !

In testimony of her love,

And as the best return fhe can make
To her dear departed son,

For the constant tenderness and affection
Which, even to his last moments,
He fhewed for her,

His much afflicted mother,

The Lady Margaret M'Donald,

Daughter to the earl of Eglinton, erected this monument,

1768.

A correspondent who stiles himself one of the people, thus begins a very long paper dated 1st October 1792.

"One would have thought that the late horrible transactions in a neighbouring nation, would have cooled in some degree the rage in this country; or at least that the democratic, or as they affect to call themselves the patriotic party, would have felt the blush of contrition for the dire effects of their levelling principles." But this he alleges has not been the case." What efforts do they still make, continues he, to delude the people? Is it not enough that they have degraded the first nation in Europe into a state of barbarism, disgraceful to human nature, but must they also labour to plunge this country likewise into the same gulph of misery?" This writer proceeds with much zeal nearly in the same strain to the end of his paper; of which it is hoped the foregoing extract is a sufficient specimen,

Poverty sends a very elaboratepaper to the Bee on the subject of smuggling. He justly reprobates these illicit practices as being destructive to the trade, and industrious exertions of honest men, and calls upon every friend to their country to lend their aid in checking it. He observes that the officers of excise and customs execute the law so partially as to take care not to discourage smuggling too much, as that would plainly curtail their emoluments. He also suggests that landed men too often encourage smugglers because of the advanced rent these freebooters sometimes are able to give for land. But this every sensible landlord knows is so precarious that it is only a small proportion of these, we hope, who, from this motive, tend to cherish smugglers. After a great many hints tending to check this evil, he concludes by proposing that respectable persons throughout the whole country fhould form themselves into societies for the purpose of giving informations concerning it, and checking the practice. This we fear can never be expected. Indeed there is only one radical

cure for smuggling, and that is to moderate the duties, so as to make, the hope of gain not to be such as to counterbalance the lofs likely to be incurred. This, and nothing else will ever put a stop to it.

To CORRESPONDENTS.

THE favour of Emendator is received. After returning thanks to this correspondent for the obliging manner in which he writes, the editor alsures him that his hints shall have all due attention bestowed upon them; though he does not say that all the emendations he proposes will be adopted. Where the public is concerned which consists of persons of tastes infinitely varied, it is impossible that the wishes of any one can be entirely gratified, because attention must be paid to the wishes of others.

Philomanthes wishes, for example, that mathematical questions should make a considerable part of the work, in which he is supported by the intelligent

Pappus, whose letter is hereby acknowledged, and which will be laid before the public when room can be spared for it.

Euphranor complains that too great a proportion of the work is appropriated to serious subjects, especially those respecting agriculture, so that too little room is left for tales and entertaining anecdotes; while loudly calls for more on the subject of agriculture: "You should teach us, says he, how to sow, how to reap, how to manure our ground, so as to derive the greatest profit from it and leave all light summer reading to other trifling performances ;" without seeming to advert that the Editor would thus deviate entirely from the plan he proposed to the public at the commencement of his work, to which, as in duty bound, he has ever endeavoured as much as possible to adhere.