lay with perfect resignation, until he saw a passenger approach, and then, lifting up his little finger, beckoned to him with the most admirable coolness and deliberation ! Such a man was

surely formed for great things.

What trade he learned, what education he acquired, and what labour he performed, to lay up in his mind those great stores of wisdom for which he was celebrated, I am sorry to say cannot be ascertained. A mysterious cloud of obscurity hangs over this part of the history of Job Doolittle. The world has suffered an immense loss by the negligence and stupidity of his acquaintance, in not treasuring up the remembrance of more of the great events in which he was concerned; for, in addition to the anecdotes above related, I can record nothing respecting him, save that he was once seen driving a cow to pasture, and that one summer afternoon he caught a fly that had been sitting upon his nose ever since the morning. The remainder of this narrative must of course be brief. Job Doolittle, after passing a long, brilliant, and highly useful career, went the way of all flesh, and was gathered to his fathers, at the age of fifty-seven.

Posterity will do him justice. Nothing remains for me but to give a sketch of his character, manners, and opinions. His character is best illustrated by the acts of his life. He was a good neighbour, for his daily life never disturbed the repose of the neighbourhood. How few great men can say this of themselves! His manners displayed all the regularity and simplicity of a man of genius. He never missed going to bed at night, and never injured his health by going abroad too early in the morning. He was fond of exercise, and generally turned over twice in his bed every morning, for that purpose. More than this he rarely allowed himself. He thought combing his head a great waste of time; and, for the most part, dispensed with the use of buttons in his dress, from the needless labour they occasion every morning and night.

His opinions bear the stamp of genius, and are, moreover, strongly characteristic of the man. He was often importuned by his friends to engage in a more active course of life, but always replied, with a sagacious look, that it would "be all the same a hundred years hence." How profound, and yet how true! When told that a certain individual was trying to discover the perpetual motion, he fell into a deep reverie, and then replied, wisely shaking his head, that he "thought he wouldn't;" a prediction most remarkably justified by the event. On being informed that the earth moved round the sun, he

looked hard at the speaker, and asked what was "the use of it;" a question which, though it may appear simple, will be found very difficult to answer. He never believed in railroads, and always wondered why people could not be content to stay at home. When intelligence arrived, week after week, that the French were marching into Russia, he inquired, very earnestly, "how long before they meant to stop, and set down." The whole character of Napoleon was a perfect enigma to him. He had no decided admiration, in fact, for any great conqueror, except King Log.

Such was Job Doolittle; a man, take him for all in all, we ne'er shall look upon his like again. His example shows how much may be accomplished by undeviating principle, and firmness of purpose. His chief aim appears to have been, not to trouble the world, and not to let the world trouble him; a maxim worthy the sages of antiquity. This was his aim, and with a noble fortitude did he pursue it, through all the vicissitudes of his eventful career. The glory that rests upon his memory must be his reward. In the classic regions of Lumberland, altars would have smoked in his praise; but I fear the bustling, rantipole times we are now cast upon, will allow him no lasting monument.

Ay, Walter Lee, we're growing old!
Our hair is sliver gray;

Yet heart to heart still beats as true,

As in our love's first day.

In love's first day, when 'midst them all,
The lads of Langley Place,

Your bonnet bore the proudest plume,

Your plaid the bravest grace.

Your eye's now dim, yet once to me
It seemed as heaven's sun,

That sends a pulse of joy through all
It looks and laughs upon.

And I-am old, and it may not
Shame this worn cheek to tell,
From bonnie lassies all, ye wont
To say, I bore the bell,

Ay thou' your Rose' hast 'clept me oft,
And e'er would 'count, because

The Rose, the sweetest flower of all,

Ne kenn'd how sweet she was,

T. T.

Oh, Walter Lee, mind ye the night,
When 'neath the elder tree,
We watched the moonlight in the rill
That sang along the lea:

When Jenny stood beside us there

Poor Jenny there stood by ;

(I doubt not, dear, she's gone to be
An angel in God's sky :)

And there beneath the elder leaves,
So pleasant stood we three,
Jenny-her eye danced with the wave,
But yours talked love to me.

And when a cloud fell on us all,
That Jenny nought might guess,
Without consent, ye stole more near,
Your lips on mine to press.

But as the light shone broadly out,
And Jenny clambered low,
To fill her lap with glittering stones,
White in the moon as snow;

Ye, cunning man, ye were so bold,
Me locked so close to ye,

Cheek touching cheek, I was sore 'feared
She'd perk around, and see.

Perk 'around and see, and tell it home, Where the wee bairns would leer; And say they kenn'd my Jo, with things My cheeks burnt red to hear.

There was a time!-then youth was green, And life a merry make;

I trow ye've not forgot how oft

I've made your heart sore ache.
But lassie aye will have her way,
And play her gleeful part,
To flout her love-friend with her eye,
And fond him with her heart.

I doubt not, Walter, but ye mind
The spree on Cuthbert-Green,
When with the laird of Langley-Hall
Full hour I dauced, I ween.

Since then, for many a summer's sun,
Have we in troth plight been,
And well-a-day! some cark and wo,
(For best no doubt,) we've seen.

And now we 're ganging to the grave,
The fearful, darksome land;