Onward he soars, with hope of fame elate!

Then cuts the cord, and rashly tempts his fate.

And wherefore thus expose himself to fall? Why brave what might the stoutest heart appal ?

Of modern plays are we not daily told How very vile they are? Unlike the old Strong sense, and sterling wit, of those bless'd days,

When bolder bards with glory won the bays!

The charge, alas!, contains too much of truth!

This the old age of wit, and that the youth!

The scourge of satire now we dare not

use:

We dread Newspapers, Magazines, Reviews;

We dread the Christians; nay, we dread the Jews!

Aptly compar'd to nature's keenest

throes

Are theirs, who face such formidable foes. Oh that the flag of peace might be unfurl'd!

Peace here to-night! sweet peace throughout the world!

EPILOGUE TO THE SAME.

Spoken by Mrs. Jordan.

AQUAKER once, the story's old;

By our good friend Joe Miller told: What happen'd once, may happen again

A Quaker once, no matter when,
One of the canine race had got,
Which he or lik'd, or wanted not.
Whether sagacious Broadbrim thought
The dog was better fed than taught;
Whether he stole the meat and cheese;
Whether he did not bark to please;
Or did not fawn, or did not fright
Beggars by day and thieves by night:
Or, vagrant, destitute, and poor,
He saw by chance an open door;
And, uninvited, forward press'd
(Who does not hate intrusive guest)
Upon the Quaker's quiet meal,
With rash attempt a bone to steal:

Or

play.

The time was noon, the place the city-
Mov'd by the spirit, not of pity,
The Quaker spoke the quadruped:
"Go, friend; and use thy utmost speed!
Thee I'll not kill, thee I'll not maim;
But I will give thee an ill name."
Then out of doors he made him fly,
And gave the treach'rous hue and cry,
"Bad dog! Bad dog!" The frighten'd
crowd,

"Mad dog! Mad dog!" replied aloud.
Poor hound! is there no chance to save
Thy bones from brickbat, stone, or stave?
Thou wert not mad--compell'd thy flight;
The venom was in slander's bite.
The fate of Fairfax here has shewn,
The best may make his case their own.
At vice indignant, in their ire,
Bosoms of purest mould may make
The rash and dangerous mistake
Of never stopping to inquire.
If such a lesson can delight,
We all shall bless this happy night.

Pursue o'er the mountains your prey,
Be first of the heart-cheering race;
All rous'd by the toils of the day,

You'll own the delights of the chace.
A hunter, no more you'll complain;
No spleen-brooding cares shall ye know:
A stranger to sickness and pain,

With life and new vigour you'll glow. Then fly from the pleasures that pall, That languor most certainly yield; But wake to the horn's early call,

And haste to the sports of the field.

COURSING.

THE day of meeting to decide the great match between Colonel Thornton's dog Major, and Mr. Durand's famous bitch, for a thousand guineas, play or pay, was announced to take place on the 25th instant. Mr. Durand's house had been named as the place of meeting, and Epsom for the Colonel and his friends; but intimation having been given by Mr. D. to the Colonel, that the multitude of people would be too great to hope for any trial or sport. Carshalton was named and approved by Colonel Thornton.

At eleven on Friday, the company, with Mr. Durand, met Colonel Thornton and his friends on Sutton Heights. Several carriages with ladies graced the scene. The day was brilliant, and about five hundred horsemen, all well mounted, were drawn together.

a

Two brace of greyhounds, in blue and buff sheets, were led from carriage-chaise-marine-and finally Major, sheeted in rich buff colour, on the right side embellished and embroidered with the armorial bearings of the family of Thornton; on the left, richly embroidered in

letters of gold, was seen "Major, aut ne plus ultra." The dog of

known fame, The Hero of the North, was stripped; he appeared in good condition, gay as a lark, although eleven years old; but he was admitted by the Colonel to be too fat, not having had a run for some months, except a course or two in Essex, which, from the politeness of Mr. Montague Burgoyne, he had at Mark hall.

Mr. Durand came forward, and handsomely acknowledged the forfeit; he said a box hare was ready; the company wished to see Major run, and with him a lively little bitch of the Colonel's.-The hare had about two hundred and fifty yards law, and, from a blunder of Mr. D. Slippe, the bitch had one hundred yards advantage over Major. The odds were that they never turned her, the Colonel offered to take them; in a few hundred yards, the bitch, which gained ground, got up to her, and soon after Major got in, they turned her alternately, when Major threw himself at least five yards at her, and killed her.

Second course.-Phantasmagoria and the same black bitch were turned down, and bets were Pp 2 proposed