r kindred spirits haunting its groves,
and their imaginative contrivances of votive temples, urns, and tablets,
and to combine them with these enchanting scenes of Nature, is to
realize all that Poets have sung of Arcadia of old. Happy! happy life
for the man of letters; what a retreat must your bowers have afforded
from the common-place perplexities of every-day life: Alas! the picture
is almost too sunny for sober contemplation.

[3] Thomson's affectionate letter to his sister, (quoted by
Johnson, who received it from Boswell,) is dated "Hagley, in
Worcestershire, October the 4th, 1747."

* * * * *

_In part of the impression of our last Number, we stated the architect
of the front of_ Apsley House, _to be Sir Jeffrey Wyatville, instead of
Mr. Benjamin Wyatt, by whom the design was furnished, and under whose
superintendence this splendid improvement has been executed. Mr. B.
Wyatt is likewise the architect of the superb mansion built for the late
Duke of York._

* * * * *

INGRATITUDE.

A DRAMATIC SKETCH.

(_For the Mirror_.)

Hence, faithless wretch! thou hast forgot the hand
That sav'd thee from oppression--from the grasp
Of want. I fed you once--then you was poor:
Even as I am now. Yet from the store
Of your abundance, you refuse to grant
The veriest trifle. May the bounty
Of that great God who gave you what you have
Ne'er from you flow. You have forgot me, sir,
But I remember ere I left this land,
By way of traffic for the western world,
I had a favourite, faithful dog,
Who for the kindnesses I pour'd upon him
Would fawn upon me: not in flattery,
But in a sort that spoke his generous nature.
Lasting as memory,
Faster than friendship--deeper than the wave
Is the affection of a mindless brute.
In a few hours (for I can almost see
The cot wherein these travell'd bones were cradled,)
I shall have ended an untoward enterprize,
And if that honest creature I have told you of
Still breathes this vital air, and will not know me,
May hospitality keep closed her gates
Against me, till I find a home within
The grave. CYMBELINE.

* * * * *

M. BOILEAU TO HIS GARDENER.

IMITATED

(_For the Mirror_.)

Industrious man, thou art a prize to me,
The best of masters--surely born for thee;
Thou keeper art of this my rural seat,[4]
Kept