Reviews.

The next person noticed is Joseph Eecd , " one of the few dramatists our district has produced . " He was author of " Madrigal and Trulotta , " which was performed at the Theatre Eoyal , Covent Garden ; also of the celebrated two-act farce of " The Register Office , " of which Bro . Tweddell gives a lengthy and minute account . From the latter wo quote the following very clever and

humourous SOXG Sung hy the Irishman in " Tho Register Oflice" : — " My sweet pretty Mog , you ' re as soft as a bog , Ancl as wild as a kitten , as wild as a kitten ; Those eyes in your face—oh ! pity my case ! Poor Paddhave smitten Paddhave smitten .

y , poor y Far softer than silk , ancl as fair as new milk , Your lily-white hand is , your lily-white hand is ; Your shape ' s like a pail , from your head to your tail , You ' re straight as a wand is , you ' re straight as a wand is , Your lip ' s red as cherries , and your curling hair is As black as the d , as black as the d :

lour breath is as siveefc , too , as any potato Or orange from Seville , or orange from Seville . When dress'd in your boddice , you trip like a goddess , So nimble , so frisky , so nimble , so frisky ; A kiss on your cheek ( 'tis so soft and so so sleek ) , AVould warm me like whisky , ivould warm me like whisky . I grunt and I inelike a ior a swine

p , pg , Because you ' re so cruel , because you ' re so cruel ; So rest I can take , and asleep or awake I dream of my jewel , I dream of my jewel . Your hate , then , give over , nor Faddy , your lover , So cruelly handle , so cruelly handle . Or Paddy must die , like a pig in a sty , Or snuff of a candle , or snuff of a candle . ' - "

The number closes with an excellent sketch of the famous mathematician , William Emerson , which will be read with great interest by many outside the radius of the district , which it is Bro . Tweddell's aim in his valuable work to illustrate .

The Unknown O.

THE UNKNOWN O .

Verses occasioned by hearing a bass bell . Hark" my gay IV y' solemn toll Speaks y ° departure of a soul ; "Tis gone , y all we know—not "wliere Or how y" unbody'd soul do ' s fare . In y mysterious O none knows

, But Q alone to \ v' ° it goes ; To "whom departed souls return To take y doom , to smile or mourn . Oh ! by w' glinim ' ring light we view The unknown 0 we ' re hast ' ning to ! God has lock " up y ° mystic page ,

And curtain'd darkness round y ° stage . "Wise tf to render search perplext , Has dz-awn 'twist y 0 & y" next A dark impenetrable screen All behind w ' is yet unseen ! We talk of y , we talk of hell ,

But iv' yy mean no tongue can tell ! Heaven is y realm where angels are And hell y" chaos of despair , But w y awful truths imply , None of us know before we die ! Wheth" ive will or no , we must

Take y ° succeeding O iu trust . This hour , perhaps o Er is well , Death struck y" . nest , he cries , Farewell !

The Unknown O.

I die ! and yet for ought we see Ceases at once to breathe ancl be , Thu launch'd f" life ' s ambiguous shore , Ingulph'd in deatli appears no more , Then undirected to repair , To distant 0 ive know not where .

Swift flies y" 4 , perhaps 'tis gone A thousand leagues beyond y sun , Or 2 ™ 10 thousand more 3 " " told , Ere y ° forsaken clay is cold ! And yet who knoivs if IV 08 we lov'd Tho' dead beso far remov'd

, may . ; Only y vail of' flesh between , Perhaps yy watch us though unseen . Whilst we yj loss lamenting , say They ' re out of hearing far away ; Guardians to us , perhaps they ' re near , Conceal'd in vehicles of air .

Aud yet no notices yy give Nor tell us Avhere or how yy live ; Tho' conscious whilst with ns below , How much y " desired to know , As if bound up by solemn fate To keep y ° secret of y state , To tell y ir joys or pains to none

, That man might live by faith alone . Well let my Sovereign if he please , Lock up his marvellous decrees ; Why sh I wish him to reveal W' he thinks proper to conceal ? It is enough y * I believe

Heaven ' s brigh y" I can conceive ; Aud he y' makes it all his care To serve God here shall see him there ! But oh ! AV'O" shall I survey The moment y' I leave the clay ? How sudden y" surprise how new ,

Let it , my God , be happy too . The above lines are by the Rev . Lawrence Sterne . He died in the year 1768 , and was interred in the new burial ground of St . George ' s , Hanover-square . Explanation of the above . —Q , ivorld ; B , He ; _} , heaven ; % , soul ; y , themselves ; y stands

throughout for fit , followed by a vowel , thus yy is tlwy ; y , their ; y , lliem , & c . J . E . S .

Poetry.

Poetry .

THE FAIUY KIJSTG . ( From the German of BRO . GOETIIE . ) Who rides so late this night so wild ? It is a father with his child . He holds the boy on his strong right arm ; He guards him well , he shields him from harm . ' Msonwhis thface so pale ?

y , y y My little one , why dost thou quail ?"" The Fairy King with his glittering train !"— . " "Tis nought , my darling , but mist and rain . " " 0 come , my darling , come with me , And pleasant games I'll play with thee ; Mother for thee has the beauteous flow ' rs , Plucked from our garden ' s sunny boiv ' rs . "

" Father , father , dost thou not hear ? Now he ' s whispering in my ear . " " Be still , be still , my beloved child ! The dry leaves creak , for the night is wild . "