The objection which once might have been urged to such a character, is now removed. She would not be singular; she would find many among her own sex equally improved; there would not be either marked superiority or degrading humiliation among them. That our fair countrywomen would persevere in the cultivation of their knowledge, must be desired by every friend to the dignity of human nature. It is false that it would disqualify them for the necessary duties of life: no mischief ever resulted from true wisdom. Should the improvement continue, not of particular individuals, but of the sex in general, new sources of happiness and of virtue will arise, to the amelioration as well as to the honour of human existence.

R.

THE INTERVIEW.

There is a soft joy that we cannot name,
And an extacy shooting through the frame,
While we gaze on Beauty glowing.

It is not by words that our bliss is known,
But all by the glance of the eye it is shewn
In radiant moisture flowing.

Our tongues are chained, and our lips are dumb-
Though half uttered words will sometimes come,
Yet these are void of meaning.

We tremble all over but know not why,-
And often escapes the unconscious sigh,—
We think our souls are dreaming.

Yes all seems a dream till the interview's past;
A heavenly dream too bright, to last,

Reality, truth forsaking.

But soon it bursts, and the spell is unbound,
When deep on the ear, with a mournful sound
Sinks the word farewell-Oh then it is found
Our heart is broken in waking

W.

SONNETTE.

1 stoode inne yonderre clumppe of agedde trees, Whose silverye trunkes ande mossyé rootes reveale A tale of truthe to mannehowe swiftlie flees

Adowne the deepenynge, slopynge trenche of time, The balle of our existence !-Howe cares steale

The garlandes pleasaunce wove while inne our prime ! Their freshenynge coloures and redolent smelle Cheeredde the sicke hearte, and all was brighte and welle; Butte wythe the morrowe onne our browes they fade, Their tintes have fledde, their fragraunce hathe decayedde, Ande bleake and bare wee standeeache pleasure gone, Lyke yonne olde leaflesse Oake, or that colde stone, Rounde which the howlynge midnighte winde forever loves to moane!

W.

A DREAM OF LOVE.

Oh! holy be the sod

Which her light foot trod,

That night in the alley so green;

May the little birds sing,

And the gay woods ring

With joy, where true lovers have been.

W.

There was no ray of light
On that ever blissful night,

Save the light of her own lovely eye;
And sound there was none,

But the rich dulcet tone

Of her voice in the thicket hard by.

Her sweet voice still seems

In my bright flushing dreams,
To carol the Roundel of love;
'Twas more grateful to me

Than the hum of the bee,
Or the wail of the languishing dove.

.

And still by the thorn,

All blushing as morn,

Or the rose gemmed with early dew,

She seems with a smile

To linger awhile

But the bright vision melts from my view.

Pitchy darkness succeeds,

And in black mournful weeds

Sad phantoms of fear glide along;
In horror I start,

While my wild throbbing heart
Asks if truth to these dreams may belong.

ANE QUAINT CONCEIPTIT WISH.

thow braid Mune, to luveris deir,
I woo thy cauldrife beam,

Quhyll owre the wuddis it glintis cleir,
Or skinklis in the stream.

Aftimes I've thocht, gin I couth ride
Upo thy beam o' licht,

An throch the grit expans in pryde,
Steir in my hevinward flicht.

Aneth me laigh this warld suld lye,
Ane black confusit heap,
Quhyll I to uthir royamis suld flye
În uthir planettis sleip.

And eirdly wae I ne'er suld feel,

Nor ken my framis decay,

Sith I suld muve quhar the wee sternis reel,
And beik in the milky way.

And sternis and sunnis sall round me schine,
And glow with effulgens bricht,

Quhyll Seraphis sall hymn the sangis divine,
Quhilk change me to beam o' licht.

Then suld I schine richt sweit and myld,
Upo' the mayd I luve,

In the croudit ha-in the desolat wyld,
A ray sould leme frae abuve.

An aye aneth that blythsum ray,
Scho wald mervayl at the thaw
O' the feelings that evir in wyld deray
Meltit her breist o' snaw.

Litill she kennis the fiery saul

O' him quha luvit hir lang,
On hir wi' the samen ray dois fall,

And burnis hir veinis alang.

And quhen scho is deid, twa bonnie bricht beamis

Sall daunce upo her tomb,

And merrilie schine wi' fitfu lemis

Asklent its ugsum glume.

W.

But sune in ane minglit flude o' licht
Togidder they sall be blent,

And a rigol sall fleit throch sepulchral nicht,
O' halie gloire richt schent.

AN ACROSTIC.

In plaintive notes the widowed Cushat wails
O'er all the silent, brown, and leafless woods;
And through the long retreating gloomy vales
Neglected o'er his bitter woes he broods.

Nor can the gay and smiling face of morn
Afford one beam of joy to hearts that Love has torn.

Reckless like that sad bird I'll wander o'er
And trace the forest's windings, dark and many,
Musing on vanished hopes of bliss, and pour
Sighs, tears, and wailings, all unheard by any.

A wretch, to Love and deep despair allied,

Yields thee his latest breath-Oh! 'twas for thee he died. F-S.

ANE ADVENTURE IN THE MORNIN.

The Sin clam up outowr the eistlin braes,
An frae his ee-bries scuffit the mornin dew;
An warnand darksmen to put on thair claes,
Begoud to speil alang the lift sae blew.

He shuke his sydes, and sent a feckfu yeild,
An raisit the simmercouts frae loch an lin;
The winnocks skinklit in the hartsum beild,
And ilka dew drap shone a minor sin.