urs of ease not idly spent;
To fortune's goods a foe profess'd,
And, hating wealth, by all caress'd
'Tis sure he's _dead_; for, lo! how small
A spot of earth is now his all!
O! wish that earth may lightly lay,
And ev'ry care be far away!
Bring flow'rs, the short-liv'd roses bring,
To _life deceased_ fit offering!
And sweets around the poet strow,
Whilst yet with life his ashes glow.

Again:

Sweet shades, adieu! here let my dust remain,
Covered with flowers, and free from noise and pain;
Let evergreens the turfy tomb adorn,
And roseate dews (the glory of the morn)
My carpet deck; then let my soul possess
The happier scenes of an eternal bliss.

Then, too, the delightful chapter _Of Gardens_ which he addressed
to the virtuous John Evelyn.

We quote these few illustrations of Cowley's character from Mr. Felton's
very interesting volume "on the Portraits of English Authors on
Gardening."--By the way, at page 100, in a Note, Mr. Felton makes a
flattering reference to one of our earliest works, which we are happy to
learn has not escaped his observation.

* * * * *

SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.

* * * * *

ORIGIN OF PAUL "PRY."

(By the Author.)

The idea of the character of Paul Pry was suggested by the following
anecdote, related to me several years ago, by a beloved friend:--An idle
old lady, living in a narrow street, had passed so much of her time in
watching the affairs of her neighbours, that she, at length, acquired
the power of distinguishing the sound of every knocker within hearing.
It happened that she fell ill, and was, for several days, confined to
her bed. Unable to observe in person what was going on without, she
stationed her maid at the window, as a substitute for the performance
of that duty. But Betty soon grew weary of the occupation: she became
careless in her reports--impatient and tetchy when reprimanded for her
negligence.

"Betty, what _are_ you thinking about? don't you hear a double
knock at No. 9? Who is it?"

"The first-floor lodger, Ma'am."

"Betty! Betty!--I declare I must give you warning. Why don't you tell me
what that knock is at No. 54!"

"Why, Lord! Ma'am, it is only the baker, with pies."

"_Pies_, Betty! what _can_ they want with pies at 54?--they
had pies yesterday!"

Of this very point I have availed myself. Let me add that Paul Pry
was never inte