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" When I look around me, and above me, and below me, and dizzily ponder over the tide of time, which, rolling through this elevated edifice, sweeps the mighty and the mean to one common bourne, whence, as the poet of nature informs us, no traveller returns-when I reflect that the court which I now address, nay, perhaps the very segment of the seat I now occupy, was heretofore enlightened by that Aurora Borealis of legal effulgence, which formed a halo on the brows of a Dunning and a Mansfield, I feel rooted with terror to the ground, and paralyzed in my lower extremities like the marble thighed monarch in the Arabian Tales.-Would to Heaven that the red-haired founder of this venerable hall, had snatched Tyrell's dart from his own bosom, and plunged it into mine, ere I had essayed this office! But the different epochs of our existence, checks the wish. My lords, my client, the plaintiff, is of the useful class of beings who give broad cloth to the back-serge to the stomach—buckram to the body-thickset to the thigh! His manners are modest-his conduct is creditable-his shop is showy—and his residence is Ratcliffe. The defendant is an officer of dragoons, recently drawn from the Purlieus of Pall. mall, and quartered at Hounslow. Luckily for him the days of drawing and quartering are over, or wrongs like my client's might justify the corporal partition. It might be accident, it might be design, which caused Captain Sebretach on the visit to the Wapping Docks, to lounge over Ratcliffe highway. Attracted by these words, “Serge, Tailor and Habitmaker,” he halted at the plaintiff's door. An elegant pelisse, with arms extended, hung swinging on the door-post-he entered the shop, and with a blandishment well suited to the perfidy of his purpose, he ordered a pelisse of the same workmanship and materials. The superb ornament started like the web of Arachne from the fingers of the plaintiff's journeyman, and on Monday week following, the defendant issued from the Hounslow barracks, the envy and admiration of his booted brethren. His colkar was of sable fur. Get me a suit of sables, cried he, mimicking the march of the Duke, but when he would have added, “ The Devil wears black," the demon of darkness stuck in his throat. My lords, you are (and long may you continue to be) clad in the robes of office, and you know what fur is. When
reflect that the pelisse was of extra superfine French brown: that bands of braids were buttoned on the bosom, with a fork of do. behind; that the side seams were finely and fully figured; that the tassels were tambored; and that frogs, presumptuous as those of Pharaoh, enveloped the defendant from chiterlin to chine, you will not, I am sure, elevate your eyebrows with extra astonishment, when you learn that the price demanded, was seventeen pounds fourteen shillings and sixpence. The plaintiff was pressingthe defendant was dunned; but cash not being forthcoming, the plaintiff drew a bill of exchange for the amount which the defendant accepted, payable at Messrs. Child and Company's Temple Bar.
“ The bill was presented when due, and was noted for non-payment. God forbid that I should impute any blame to Messrs. Child and Coinpany:Their answer was, no effects;” and after sedulous inquiry, I find, that when a man has no money in a banker's hands, such banker is not bound to pay his drafts. This, my lords, the defendant must have known. His acceptance, therefore, was a mockery of the lace merchant; it was buttering the bacon of baseness; it was thrusting the red hot poker of pertness into the already blazing conflagration of my client's grievances. The defendant had now thrown away the scabbard, and the plaintiff had drawn the sword. He issued out a writ in the name of George the Third, of the VOL. IV.
United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland: Ireland in its unfathomed caves of despotism; that hapless tin kettle doomed to be eternally appurtenant to the tail of the dog of war. A declaration was filed, cautiously containing counts for goods sold and delivered, and for work and labour, with a notice to plead in eight days. Even now the plaintiff did more than by legal courtesy, he was bound to perform. He demanded a pleabow primitive the process otherwise judgment-how awful the alternative.
“ This was contumeliously contemned; it was treated as Brutum Ful. men. But the plaintiff, my lords, was no mimic Jove, bantering and blustering from a bridge of brass; Serge, and not Salmonens, was the antagonist whom the defendant was to cope with. The bolt was hurled, and interlocutory judgment was signed for want of a plea. At this stage of the proceedings, the plaintiff's attorney put into my unexperienced hands, an affidavit of the course of action. The motion he wished me to submit to your lordships, was novel and arduous. Seniors in silk, and puisnes in prunella, would have shrunk from its experiment. But, full of my client's wrongs, and swelling like the sybil with my subject, even so humble an individual as myself now ventures to move your lordships—that it may be referred to the master to compute principal and interest on the bill of exchange upon which this action is brought!!!"-Bost. Daily Advertiser.
POETRY.-FOR THE PORT FOLIO.
PASSIONS OF A DISTRAOTED MAN.
I wave heard in foreign lands
That the shrouded dead arose,
When the shades of evening close.
Rising then a fearful sight
Spreading wide their dusky wing,
To their awful errand spring!
Kindred gore must be their feast,
They must watch the withering frame,
Till expires the vital flame.
Thus, when in her winding sheet
Hope lies fast forever bound,
In the lunar realms is found.
Still the shade of hopeless love
Prays upon the tortur'd heart, And the vision she hath wove
Never can be doom'd to part.
Withering then the flame doth waver,
What can cure the bosom's smart? Nothing, ah! can ever save her,
For she cherishes the dart!
Time, thy wings have dropt no balm
Lock'd within a wife's embrace, Should each heaving wave be calm,
Every storm of sorrow cease;
But the soul is far away,
And a faithful consort's charms, Vainly all their pride display,
Clasp'd in monumental arms!
There, the earth born clay reposes,
But the ocean rolls between, And a distant clime discloses
Where the spirit still hath been.
Pledges of them-tie not whole!
Springing, harmless babes! from whence? Not the offspring of the soul,
But the children of the sense!
Say, shall light to you be given,
Burning and unquenchable, Bearing the high stamp of heaven,
Triumphing o'er death and hell?
Say, shall feeling high and keen,
Say, shall genius bright and great; Fire the soul that rear'd hath been
From such broken, heartless state?
God of mercy! ease my wo,
Spare, O! spare my tortur'd brain-
Dash me back to dust again!
PASSIONS OF A DESERTED WOMAN.
Still unfaithful, do I love thee?
Though thy image here be stampt;
Scorn hath all its lustre dampt.
For thy child, I will not curse thee,
Though a sire thou may'st not be,
Heir of immortality!
Go, seducer! vengeance never
If she thirst shall want her fill-
Bid thy sorrows, peace! be still?
Go! but in a wife's embraces,
Thou shalt curse the unhallowed tie?
Sees the sacrilege on high!
Go! and if the unholy union
Smiling, prattling infants bless,
Whose sole heirship is disgrace.
Go! and if no more delaying,
Vengeance burst upon thy head-
Oaths are broke, and hope has fled!
Heaven abandoned, when thou dyest,
Then, thou never canst dissemble;
Go! and when in death thou lyest,
Thou shalt think on me and tremble! New-York, 19th Sept. 1816.
FROM THE PERSIAN OF HAFEZ.
No, never shall that lovely form of thine,
In my remembrance be by time effac’d.
Shall ne'er be driven from my frantic brain
Inflicting sorrow, and unceasing pain.
Thy heart alliance with thy looks would claim;
That sacred contract shall remain the same.
All but this weight of faithful love, I bear
Thus deadly cheris'd in my wretched heart,
But that shall never, never thence depart.
This fond affection, that for thee I've borne,
Is with my heart and soul so firmly bound;
'Twill still unalter'd and unchang'd be found.
And if my heart does thus the fair pursue,
It surely may this one excuse obtain;
But seek a balsam to assuage its pain.
Whoe'er like Hafez, led by love astray,
Desires not madness o'er his brain to roll,
Nor yield to them, bis inexperienc'd soul.