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-------POETRY. .

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POETRY. A CHANT FUit MANY VOICES. TUNE.—" The Old English Gentleman. ——— BLACKWOOD. Come, strike again the good old strain and let the welkin ring For BURDKTT bold, who fast doth hold, by country and hy King And when the paltry" pismire" tribe his gallant spirit stin, For Church and Crown, the gauntlet down right man- fully doth liing. 0 Like a fine Old English gentleman, All of the olden time, gallant English gentleman he evermore hath been, And though some few vagaries we pcrchancc from him have seen, Yet when 'twas known, and fairly hown, what Whig Ileform mi»ht mean. He spurned it from his threshold, as most hateful and unclean, In the sight of English gentlemen All of the olden time. Full well he knew the traitorous crew, whom oroudly he defied Full well he read the English hearts, on whom his heart relied; For every true Conservative in that good contest vied, While SINCLAIR bravely led the van, and would not be denied," Like a gallmt Scottish gentleman, All of the olden time. The fight is tione-the field is woii-ttie day is all our own The gabbling goose of Middlesex from Westminster hath flown; The gosling whom he brought with him a standing jest has grown. For Io a guest in his old nest, who strikes the proper tune For fine old English gentlemen, All of the olden time. Long live the pride of Westminster—the hero of THE Tow E It And may those crouching, creeping slaves—those minions of the hour. Who league with goose or gosling thus to save tlieiriiiii- us'd power. Perceive at length they've lost their strength, like small beer waxing sour. Eschewed of English gentlemen, Al', of the olden time. Oli 1 pleasant 'tis throughout the land, to peasant and to peer, From m rry England's noble heart glad tidings thus to hear; And ere the shout that fpiails the foe hath" died upon the ear, May there be heard from palace yard just such another For ANOTHER fine old gentleman. All of the olden time. ORIGINAL Cil.-IltADE.-XVIII. Lady aake-to slumber now Is to invite thy certain fate; Malignant glares my jirst-atid tholt Must rise,-this moment or too late. Awake—th' assassin's foot is near: The startled hare whose path he crost, Beneath my teconil cowers in fear, Lady awake-or thou art lost. Ah!—she is saved-my whole—a Bird Her voice had taught, her hand had fed, Uttered her name, as steps h0 heard- She wakes-and screams—the ruffian fled.

SCltlPTURE I LLUSl'HA TIONS.—No.…

----CHIT CHAT.

CHURCH REPAIRS.I

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jEntpmal IJatitatiteut. .

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SKETCHES OF SOCIETY.

SPECIAL ILLUMINATION.

A GKi CUL TV RE, COMMER CE.…

LOCAL MARKETS. .4

MOON'S AGE.

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