He thus the dame address'd,

As to her side he closely press'd.

"I hope, my dear, I don't intrude,
By breaking on your solitude;
But it has always been my passion
To forward pleasant conversation;
And I should be a stupid bird
To pass the fair without a word;
I, who have been for ever noted
To be the sex's most devoted.
Besides, a damsel unattended,
Left unnotic'd and unfriended,
Appears, (excuse me) so forlorn,
That I can scarce suppose,
To any she that e'er was born,
'Twould be the thing she chose.
How happy, then, I'm now at leisure
To wait upon a lady's pleasure;
And all this morn have nought to do
But pay my duty, love, to you.

66

What, silent!-Ah, those looks démure,

And eyes of languor make me sure

That in my random idle chatter

I quite mistook the matter!
It is not spleen or contemplation
That draws you to the cover;
But 'tis some tender assignation;
Well!-whose the favour'd lover?

I met hard by, in quaker suit,
A youth sedately grave and mute;
And from the maxim, like to like,
Perhaps the sober youth might strike.
Yes, yes, 'tis he, I'll lay my life,
Who hopes to get you for his wife.

"But come, my dear, I know you're wise: Compare and judge, and use your eyes;

No female yet could e'er behold
The lustre of my red and gold,
My ivory bill and jetty crest,
But all was done, and I was blest.
Come, brighten up and act with spirit,
And take the fortune that you merit."
He ceas'd-Linetta thus replied,
With cool contempt and decent pride :

}

""Tis pity, Sir, a youth, so sweet, In form and manners so complete, Should do an humble maid the honour To waste his precious time upon her.

A

poor forsaken she, you know,

Can do no credit to a beau ;

And worse would be the case

If meeting one whose faith was plighted,
He should incur the sad disgrace

Of being slighted.

Now, Sir, the sober-suited youth,
Whom you were pleased to mention,
To those small merits, sense and truth,
And generous love, has some pretension :
And then, to give him all his due,
He sings, Sir, full as well as you,
And sometimes can be silent too.
In short, my taste is so perverse,
And such my wayward fate,
That it would be my greatest curse
To have a coxcomb to my mate."
This said, away she scuds,
And leaves beau Goldfinch in the suds.

THIRD EVENING.

ON THE PINE AND FIR TRIBE.

A DIALOGUE.

Tutor-George-Harry.

Tut. Let us sit down awhile on this

bench, and look about us.

charming prospect!

What a

Har. Iadmire those pleasure grounds.

What beautiful clumps of trees there are in that lawn!

Geo. But what a dark gloomy wood that is at the back of the house!

Tut. It is a fir plantation; and those trees always look dismal in the summer, when there are so many finer greens to compare them with. But the winter is their time for show, when other trees are stripped of their verdure.

Geo. Then they are evergreens.

Tut. Yes; most of the fir tribe are evergreens; and as they are generally natives of cold mountainous countries, they contribute greatly to cheer the wintry landscape.

Geo. You were so good, when we walked out last, to tell us a great deal about Oaks. I thought it one of the prettiest lessons I ever heard. I should be glad if you would give us such another about firs.

Har. So should I too, I am sure.

Tut. With all my heart, and I am pleased that you ask me. Nothing is so great an encouragement to a tutor as to find his pupils of their own accord seeking after useful knowledge.

Geo. And I think it is very useful to know such things as these.

Tut. Certainly it is. Well thenYou may know the Pine or Fir tribe in general at first sight, as most of them are of a bluish-green colour, and all have leaves consisting of a strong narrow pointed blade, which gives them somewhat of a stiff appearance. Then all of them bear a hard scaly fruit, of a longish or conical form.

Har. Are they what we call Firapples?

Tut. Yes; that is one of the names boys give them.

Har. We often pick them up under trees, and throw them at one another.

Geo. I have sometimes brought home