1826.) Old Neighbours. 279 
much ‘of ‘good to: Miss: Dale, who was just the person to’ enjoy the: bles-' 
sines'of her lot; and pass lightly over the evil; and as‘a most proper and: 
fitting Conclusion to the airs of her spouse. But, a little doubtful how! my: 
oldaequaintance might take: the matter, especially as it involved. the! 
loss “of (her new-daughter’s company, and must of necessiny cause’ her 
soinelittle' ‘trouble, I was never more puzzled in my life whether to 
" g¥sumie a visage ‘of condolence or of congratulation ; and the certainty’ 
that hér countenance would afford no indication either of joy or sorrow, 
enhanced ‘my perplexity. I was however immediately relieved by ‘the 
nature’ of her employment; she was sitting surrounded by sempstresses, 
at a table covered with knitting and wedding cake, whilst her maidens 
weré putting together, under her inspection,that labour of her life the 
tessellated quilt! the only wedding present by which she could suffici- 
ently compliment her son, or adequately convey her sense of the merits 
and excellence of his fair bride! Her pleasure in this union was so 
great that she actually talked about it, presented the cake herself, and 
poured out with her own hands the wine to be drunk to the health of 
the new married couple. ; 
Mr. Allen had purchased a place in Devonshire, and six months 
after his mother quitted W. to go and live near him. But, poor dear 
lady, she did not live there—she died. The unsettling, and the 
journey, and the settling again, terrible operations to one who seemed, 
like the Turkish women, to have roots to her feet, fairly killed her. 
She was as unfit to move as a two-year old cabbage, and drooped, and 
withered, and dropped down dead of the transplantation. Peace to her 
memory !' the benediction that she would assuredly have preferred to 
all others. Peace to her ashes ! M. 
PEN AND INK, 
An Invocation. 
Ye fates, that give to scribbling men 
The drops that trickle from the pen, 
To me a precious ink-stand give, 
To feed my goose-quill whilst I live :— 
I would not have the ebon tide 
A stream where rust and acid glide ; 
For words to trace with bitter spell 
As from Medusa’s head they fell ; 
And. like those drops in th’ olden age, 
Turn each a serpent on the page: 
Neither weak dew-gems should my quill 
Drink till a dropsy made it ill; 
Nor would I have the honey’s slime 
“To toil a snail-like piece of rhyme : 
. But’dip my pen in some rich stream 
oy Yo)> (eo. Where brightness, strength and beauty beam ; 
~ ©) S06 oe.05 5 And from my quill let notes be heard, 
“oye *.¢ }As though from some celestial bird, . 
i, Who in the skies had left its rest, 
And built within my pen a nest. ie 
alien tal, un wiicmel Cnow’st not from whence this ink can start ? 
a “Give me, ye fates—a Poet’s Heart! °° 7 
~~ Seek’st thou a'bitd ?’ why then in sooth 
_ ees 190 “¥ield to niy pen—the Note of Truth “DLW. Je) ho" 
the 
SV" 
