A Judicial Anthology. Or tell that the buds of the heart at the dawning Were destined to wither and perish at noon? On the past sadly musing, oh, pause not a moment; Could we live o'er again but one bright sunny day, Г were better than ages of present enjoy ment, In the mem'ry of scenes that have long passed away.
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An hundred curious stories more Which will delight you to read o'er, These wondrous books in truth contain, All sprung from his creative brain. Do not, my dear, impatient burn To read these books; on my return I 'll bring them safe, each child to please. While Pecksy dances on my knees. And dear mamma exults with pleasure To see around her all her treasure. Theophilus Parsons.
ADVICE TO A LAWYER.
But Time ne'er retraces the footsteps he measures, — In Fancy alone with the past can we dwell; Then take my last blessing, loved scene of young pleasures, Dear home of my childhood, forever fare well! John Bannister (.jibson.
A LETTER TO HIS LITTLE GIRL. BOSTON. MARCH 2, 1795.
DEAR MARY: By these lines you Tl find That your papa has kept in mind The promise, made at Newburyport, To write you, when at Boston Court. Since then I have increased in health, But added little to my wealth; Enough there still remained in store To purchase books, in number four, For Robin, Flopsy, Dicksy, Hopsy, With stories filled, to turn them topsy, Such as poor Gulliver, of old. To make folks merry, often told,— Of little men six inches high, Of larks not bigger than a fly, Of sheep much less than common rats, And horses not so big as cats; He next of monstrous giants talked. High as a steeple when they walked; Whose beasts and birds and even flies Were all proportioned to that size.
WHENE'ER you speak, remember every cause Stands not on eloquence, but stands on laws. Pregnant in matter, in expression brief, Let every sentence stand in bold relief! On trifling points nor time nor talents waste, A sad offence to learning and to taste; Nor deal with pompous phrase; nor e'er suppose Poetic flights belong to reasoning prose. Loose declamation may deceive the crowd, And seem more striking as it grows more loud; But sober sense rejects it with disdain, As naught but empty noise, and weak as vain. The froth of words, the school-boy's vain parade Of books and cases,— all his stock in trade,— The pert conceits, the cunning tricks and play Of low attorneys, strung in long array,— The unseemly jest, the petulant reply, . That chatters on, and cares not how or why, — Studious, avoid, — unworthy themes to scan, They sink the Speaker, and disgrace the Man, Like the false lights by flying shadows cast, Scarce seen when present, and forgot when past. Joseph Story.
