From a box of game may have sprung evils almost as various as those which issued from that of Pandora; and while the London epicure is picking his teeth after his savoury meal, the purveyor may be paying the expenses in a law-suit, shot in a poaching broil, or taking a trip to Botany Bay.

"Have you got an attorney aboard ?" cried old Hawser Trunnion, as he approached an inn; nor could he be induced to enter, till it was ascertained the coast was clear. Such was the pointed satire that Smollett levelled at the birdlime quality of law. The spirit of the law is indeed founded in equity, but it is the business of the litigators to quench that spirit; -hence arises all kind of legal distress, both in town and country; hence, all that load of wretchedness and misery, that

God bless my soul! what have I been writing about? Why surely it is not actionable?—I don't about?—Why know that; to be sure of it, it will be necessary for me to examine carefully; let me see-units, tens, hundreds, thousands, tens of-I'll count no more. "Let me not think on't, that way madness lies;" the vision of such mighty volumes would appal the stoutest heart.

But what, it may be asked, has Death to do with the lawyer, any more than with the member of any other profession? It comes to him as it comes to all.

It may be so; but there are not wanting instances where the finer net work of the brain, and a higherwrought sensibility of the nerves, have given way to the entanglements and multiplied intricacies of law; till Reason, tottering on its throne, has been at last extinguished by Death.

But though this observation may not be universally applicable, yet we believe it would be difficult to find a character to whom the approach of the King of Terrors would frequently be more ill-timed; for, under the circumstances of professional engagements, every thing that should be done for every body, may be left, in chaotic confusion, to be handled by the unskilful, or scattered into fragments to furnish matter for fresh litigation.

PETER PLAINtiff.

THOU that hast lov'd so long and well
The vale's deep quiet streams,
Where the pure water-lilies dwell,

Shedding forth tender gleams;
And o'er the pool the May-fly's wing
Glances in golden eves of spring;

Oh! lone and lovely haunts are thine,
Soft, soft the river flows,
Wearing the shadow of thy line,

The gloom of alder-boughs;

And in the midst, a richer hue,

One gliding vein of heaven's own blue!