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Pathetic Compositions call for an indication of tenderness soft and subdued tones, and in some instances, an indistinct articulation, arising from intensity of feeling.

JOSEPH's Speech to his BROTHERS. Gen, 45 ch. Then Joseph could not refrain himself before all them that stood by him ; and he cried, Cause every man to go out from me: and there stood no man with him, while Joseph made himself known unto his brethren.

2. And he wept aloud : and the Egyptians, and the house of Pharaoh, heard.

3. And Joseph said unto his brethren, I am Joseph: doth my father yet live ? And his brethren could not answer him ; for they were troubled at his presence.

4. And Joseph said unto his brethren, Come near to me, I pray you: and they came near. And he said, I am Joseph your brother, whom ye sold into Egypt.

5. Now, therefore, be not grieved, nor angry with yourselves, that ye sold me hither : for God did send me before you to preserve

life. 6. For these two years hath the famine been in the land ; and yet there are five years, in the which there shall neither be earing nor harvest.

7. And God sent me before you to preserve you a posterity in the earth, and to save your lives by a great deliverance.

8. So now, it was not you that sent me hither, but God : and he hath made me a father to Pharaoh, and lord of all his house, and a ruler throughout all the land of Egypt.

9. Haste ye, and go up to my father, and say unto him, Thus saith thy son Joseph, God hath made me lord of all Egypt; come down unto me, tarry not.

10. And thou shalt dwell in the land of Goshen, and thou shalt be near unto me, thou, and thy children, and thy children's children, and thy flocks, and thy herds, and all that thou hast.

11. And there will I nourish thee, (for yet there are five years of famine,) lest thou, and thy household, and all that thou hast, come to poverty 12. And, behold, your eyes see, and the eyes

of
my

brother Benjamin, that it is my mouth that speaketh unto you,

13. And ye shall tell my father of all my glory in Egypt, and of all that ye have seen: and ye shall haste, and bring dowo my

father hither. 14. And he fell upon his brother Benjamin's neck, and wept; and Benjamin wept upon his neck.

15. Moreover, he kissed all his brethren, and wept upon them : and after that his brethren talked with him.

16. And the fame thereof was heard in Pharaoh's house, say. ing, Joseph's brethren are come: and it pleased Pharaoh well, and his servants.

David's Lament over ABSALOM. 2 Sam. 13 ch. 32. And the king said unto Cushi, Is the young

Absalom safe ? And Cushi answered, The enemies of my lord the king, and all that rise against thee to do thee hurt, be as that

man

young man is.

33. And the king was much moved, and went up to the chamber over the gate, and wept: and as he went, thus he said, O my son Absalom! my son, my son Absalom! would God I had died for thee, O Absalom my son, my son!

Dr. Nott on the Death of Gen. HAMILTON. A short time since, and he who is the occasion of our sorrows, was the ornament of his country. He stood on an eminence; and glory covered him. From that eminence he has fallen-suddenly, for ever, fallen. His intercourse with the living world is now ended ; and those who would hereafter find him must seek him in the grave. There, cold and lifeless, is the heart which just now was the seat of friendship. There, dim and sightless is the eye, whose radiant and enlivening orb beamed with intelligence; and there, closed for ever are those lips, on whose persuasive accents we have so often and so lately hung with transport.

From the darkness which rests upon his tomb there proceeds, methinks, a light in which it is clearly seen that those gaudy objects which men pursue are only phantoms. In this light how dimly shines the splendour of victory-how humble appears the majesty of grandeur. The bubble which seemed to have so much solidity has burst : and we again see that all below the sun is vanity.........

True, the funeral eulogy has been pronounced. The sad and solemn procession has moved. The badge of mourning has already been decreed, and presently the sculptured marble will lift up its front, proud to perpetuate the name of HAMILTON, and rehearse to the passing traveller his virtues.

Just tributes of respect! And to the living useful. But to him, mouldering in his narrow and humble habitation, what are they !-How vain! how unavailing!

Approach, and behold—while I lift from his sepulchre its covering. Ye admirers of his greatness, ye emulous of his talents and his fame, approach, and behold him now. How pale ! How silent? No martial bands admire the adroitness of his movements. No fascinated throng weep—and melt-and tremble at his eloquence !-Amazing change. A shroud! a coffin ! a narrow subterraneous cabin! This is all that now remains of HAMILTON! And is this all that remains of. Him!--During a life so transitory, what lasting monument then can our fondest. hopes erect?

THE DEAD MOTHER.
F. Touch not thy mother, boy--Thou canst not wake her.
C. Why, father? She still wakens at this hour,
F. Your mother's dead, my child.

C. And what is dead?
If she be dead, why then 'tis only sleeping,
For I am sure she sleeps. Come, mother,--rise--
Her hand is very cold!

F. Her heart is cold.
Her limbs are bloodless, would that mine were so !

C. If she would waken, she would soon be warm :
Why is she wrapt in this thin sheet? If I,
This winter morning, were not covered better,
I should be cold like her.

F. No-not like her :
The fire might warm you, or thick clothes--but her
Nothing can warm again!

C. If I could wake her,
She would smile on me, as she always does,
And kiss me. Mother! you have slept too long--
Her face is pale--and it would frighten me,
But that I know she loves me.

F. Come, my child.

C. Once, when I sat upon her lap, I felt
A beating at her side, and then she said
It was her heart that beat, and bade me feel
For my own heart, and they both beat alike,
Only mine was quickest-And I feel
My own heart yet--but her's I cannot feel---

F. Child ! child !—you drive me mad—come hence, I say.

C. Nay, father, be not angry! let me stay here Till my mother wakens,

F. I have told you,
Your mother cannot wake--not in this world
But in another she will wake for us.
When we have slept like her, then we shall see her.

C. Would it were night then!

F. No, unhappy child !
Full many a night shall pass, ere thou canst sleep
That last, long sleep.-Thy father soon shall sleep it;
Then wilt thou be deserted upon earth :
None will regard thee; thou wilt soon forget
That thou hadst natural ties,-an orphan lone,
Abandoned to the wiles of wicked men,
And women still more wicked.

C. Father! Father!
Why do you look so terribly upon me,
You will not hurt me ?

F. Hurt thee, darling ? no!
Has sorrow's violence so much of anger,
That it should fright my boy ? Come, dearest, come,

C. Your are not angry then ?
F. Too well I love

you. C. All

you

have said I cannot now remember,
Nor what is meant-you terrified me so.
But this I know, you told me,-I must sleep
Before my mother wakens-so, to-morrow
Oh, father! that to-morrow were but come!

Humorous pieces are expressed by a rapid movement, indi cations of mirth and drollery, and sometimes by an affectation of great gravity.

THE BASHFUL MAN.

SCENE V.-Library in Friendly Hall. At the back, a hand

some rose-wood table, on which is a head of Hercules and an elegant ink-stand; over that, on a sort of shelf, a superb edition of Xenophon, in sixteen volumes.

Enter SIR THOMAS and LADY FRIENDLY. Lady F. But why not receive Mr. Blushington in the great drawing-room, Sir Thomas ?

Sir T. There's my management, my lady! Being a scholar, Mr. Blushington will feel, at once, the delicacy of the compliment I pay him, by first introducing him to the library ; besides, the apparent number of books he will see here, will give him a high opinion of my erudition: there's management again? Wouldn't any one think, to look at it, that was really a fine edition of Xenophon, in folio; instead of which, it's merely a deal-board, covered with some gilded leather, for the maids to put their pails and brushes behind. All my contrivance! But, mum! here he comes. Oh ! this plaguy gout !-But I must get up, and receive him. Enter BLUSHINGTON, pushed on by Gyp; preceded by EVANS,

and followed by Nick and Servants. Evans. Mr. Blushington, Sir Thomas.

Blush. Don't leave me, Gyp; the awful moment has arrived.

Sir T. Mr. Blushington, I rejoice to meet you.

Gyp. Fifth position, sir. (Blushington, in endeavouring to put himself into an attitude, stumbles and pitches on Sir Thomas's gouty foot.)-Oh! confound the fellow, he's murdered ne. (Aside.)

Blush. You infernal scoundrel, Gyp! you've made me tread Sir Thomas's toe off. My dear Sir Thomas, I beg ten thousand pardons ; but-but

Sir T. No apologies, I beg : these little accidents will happen. It's over now : yes, as we scholars say, it's gone in toto.

Gyp. All's right, sir !-Now for the speech. (Apart to Blush)

Blush. (Apart to Gyp.) My tongue sticks to my throat : I couldn't utter a syllable to save my life.

Sir T. Allow me to introduce you to Lady Friendly. Lady Friendly, Mr. Blushington

Blush. Happy-proud-dinner---sorry—acquaintance

Sir T. Ay, ay; well thought of. Go, varlets, and hurry the dinner. No giggling, hussies !-Away !-[Exeunt Nick and Servants.]-Evans, take Mr. Blushington's man into the pantry, and make him welcome.

Blush. Oh, dear! no; no occasion for that, Sir Thomas. Lord bless me! don't leave me, Gyp.

What shall I do by myself, if they take my only prop away. (Aside to Gyp.)

Gyp. Courage, sir! you get on famously. I must go, you see--can't help it. (Aside to Blushington.) Poor fellow! Evans. This way, if you please, sir.

[Exeunt Gyp and Evans. Blush. What will become of me! without guide or rudder ! I'm lost!

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