Part 4

That flash'd the traveller's flame On tree and precipice, And show'd a fair unearthly frame In robes of glittering ice, With head against a trunk inclined, Like a dream-spirit of the mind.

'Twas that love-wander'd maid, death-pale, Her very heart's blood froze, Love's Niobe, in her own vale, Now reckless of all woes-- Love's victim fair, and true, find meet, As she of the famed Paraclete.

The mountains round shall tell Her tale to travellers long. The little vale of Saco swell The western poet's song, And "Nancy's Hill" in loftier rhymes Be sung through unborn realms and times.

_New Monthly Magazine_.

[7] A few miles below the Notch of the White Mountains in the Valley of Saco, is a little rise of land called "Nancy's Hill." It was formerly thickly covered with trees, a cluster of which remains to mark the spot. In 1773, at Dartmouth, Jefferson co. U.S. lived Nancy----, of respectable connexions. She was engaged to be married. Her lover had set out for Lancaster. She would follow him in the depth of winter, and on foot. There was not a house for thirty miles, and the way through the wild woods a footpath only. She persisted in her design, and wrapping herself in her long cloak, proceeded on her way. Snow and frost took place for several weeks, when some persons passing her route, reached the lull at night. On lighting their fires, an unearthly figure stood before them beneath the bending branches, wrapped in a robe of ice. It was the lifeless form of Nancy.

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THE GATHERER

"I am but a _Gatherer_ and disposer of other men's stuff."--_Wotton_.

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The late Dr. Barclay was a wit and a scholar, as well as a very great physiologist. When a happy illustration, or even a point of pretty broad humour, occurred to his mind, he hesitated not to apply it to the subject in hand; and in this way, he frequently roused and rivetted attention, when more abstract reasoning might have failed of its aim. On one occasion he happened to dine with a large party, composed chiefly of medical men. As the wine cup circulated, the conversation accidentally took a professional turn, and from the excitation of the moment, or some other cause, two of the youngest individuals present were the most forward in delivering their opinions. Sir James McIntosh once told a political opponent, that so far from following his example of using hard words and soft arguments, he would pass, if possible, into the opposite extreme, and use soft words and hard arguments. But our unfledged M.D.'s disregarded the above salutary maxim, and made up in loudness what they wanted in learning. At length, one of them said something so emphatic--we mean as to manner--that a pointer dog started from his lair beneath the table and _bow-wow-wowed_ so fiercely, that he fairly took the lead in the discussion. Dr. Barclay eyed the hairy dialectician, and thinking it high time to close the debate, gave the animal a hearty push with his foot, and exclaimed in broad Scotch--"Lie still, ye brute; for I am sure ye ken just as little about it as ony o'them." We need hardly add, that this sally was followed by a hearty burst of laughter, in which even the disputants good-humouredly joined.

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Fair woman was made to bewitch-- A pleasure, a pain, a disturber, a nurse, A slave, or a tyrant, a blessing, or curse; Fair woman was made to be--which?

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_Printed and Published by J. LIMBIRD, 143, Strand (near Somerset House), and sold by all Newsmen and Booksellers_.