Under his equal administration no rank could shield the criminal from punishment, if the code of laws established by Nash had been infringed; and no dignity of situation influence him to allow a breach or temporary suspension of them. When the Duchess of Queensberry appeared at the dressball in an apron, he deliberately desired her to take it off, which she instantly complied with, and begged his acceptance of it; and when the Princess Amelia applied to him for one more dance after eleven o'clock, he refused, assuring her that the laws of Bath were, like those of Lycurgus, unalterable. The influence which this firmness in his government gave him in the little world of Bath was unbounded, and Nash took care to preserve and increase it by a considerable affectation of splendor in his dress and equipage; aware that external appearance has a powerful and visible effect on the largest part of mankind, the weak and the vain, and that the wise and the good are not entirely insensible to it, though in an inferior degree. Consistently with this just view of human nature, his house was richly furnished; his chariot was drawn by six gray horses, several persons, on horseback and on foot, attending the carriage, bearing French horns, and other instruments of music; his clothes were profusely decorated with lace, and his head crowned with a large white hat, cocked up in a fierce and singular manner. He kept one coachman, a postillion, two footmen in livery, a gentleman out of livery, and a running footman. This was the meridian of Nash's glory. The Prince of Wales, and the Prince of Orange, gave him marks of their esteem; the nobility of Bath flattered him with their familiarity; the gentry treated him with respect; and the corporation always consulted him in every public step in which they engaged a sum of money was voted by the chamber for the purpose of erecting a marble statue of the King of Bath, which, when finished, found an honorable station in the pump-room, between the busts of Newton and Pope; but the keen wit of Lord Chesterfield could not pass over this happy opportunity of ridiculing so absurd an association. He wrote an epigram on the subject, concluding with the following lines:

The Statue plac'd the Busts between
Adds to the satire strength;
Wisdom and Wit are little seen,
But Folly at full length.

The charity of Nash was extensive, and often well applied: in 1739, when a very hard winter pressed heavily on the poor inhabitants of Bath, he entered many of their houses, and, to spare their feelings, he relieved them unasked. He also relieved the colliers and weavers, who came in a starving state to the city in a body, by commencing a subscription for them, putting down ten guineas himself at the onset, and sent them home to their families with tears of gratitude for his future welfare. His character abounds with numerous traits of benevolence; and, it is said of him, that when unable to relieve those who sued to him for assistance, the tears have been seen to trickle down his cheeks: in fact, it was often

carried to excess. A ruined gamester, who had witnessed Nash put a large sum of money into his pocket, with carelessness, observed, such a sum would make him happy!" when Nash, without the slightest hesitation, upon overhearing his exclamation, put the money in his hands, saying, go then and be happy! From such a line of conduct Nash became extremely popular : he was respected by the opulent, and the admiration of the poor, and his prosperity continued for a longer period than is usually allotted to public characters;his popularity undiminished, and his honors untarnished. An admirable skill in play provided amply for his enormous expenses, and his hilarity, gaiety, and easy address, as they contributed to the pleasure of society, gained him in return affection, if not esteem. But regard, acquired by qualities which are not intrinsically excellent, can only be temporary. Those sprightly traits of character, which may add a grace to youth, become ridiculous and disgusting in old age. The jest, that pleases at twenty-five, will shock at seventy; nor can the most thoughtless contemplate with pleasure the man, who, in the course of nature, must shortly change this being for another, idly busied about the frivolities of gay life, et totus in illis. The public now began to treat Nash with neglect, and shortly with contempt. The great, whom he had served with such devotion, rewarded him-as they are accustomed to remunerate the instruments of their pleasures by deserting him in the hour of need. Sickness attacked him, and poverty stared him in the face: these were evils against which he had provided no defence, and which, therefore, fell upon him with double weight. Sorrow and distress clouded

the closing evening of his days; and reflection came too late for any other purpose than to display to him the disconsolate situation of that man, when he approaches his end, who has spent his whole life in playing the fool.

The tree of deepest root is found,
Least willing still to quit the ground;
'Twas therefore said by ancient sages,

That love of life increas'd with years,
So much that in our latter stages,
When pains grow sharp, and sickness rages,
The greatest love of life appears.

This great affection to believe,
Which all confess, but few perceive,
OLD TIME, whose haste no mortal spares,
Uncall'd, unheeded, unawares,

Brought on his eightieth year.

At the advanced age of eighty-seven years, Mr. Nash died, at his house, in St. John's Court, Bath, on the 3d of February, 1761, sincerely regretted by every inhabitant of this city, and buried at the expense of the corporation, with great respect and solemnity, in the abbey church. The masters of the assembly-rooms following as chief mourners. His pall was supported by six of the senior aldermen ; and three clergymen preceded the coffin. The boys and girls of the charityschools, in couples, singing a hymn, and a band of music playing a dirge. The tops of the houses and the streets were crowded with spectators, to take a last farewell of this venerable founder and promoter of the interests connected with the city of Bath.

SERENADE.

BY ROBERT SYDAL.

Come forth to the bower, the bower of love,
The goddess of night shines brightly above,
And every leaf on its scented trees,
Lives in the murmur of evening's breeze,
And the perfume borne on the trembling air
Awaits thy presence, my charming fair.

The busy world, its folly and noise,
It's pleasure, it's vanity, it's joys,
Still it is as the silent grave,
Motionless as the calmed wave,
One lone, undying feeling is here,

'Tis the burning passion thou dost share.
Come at an ardent lover's call,

Come in the brightness of starlight's fall,
The scene is heaven, an angel thou,
Lady, thy home is here,-the vow
Thou oft hast sworn, to me renew,
Come and be bless'd 'mid the falling dew.

'Tis here alone is Paradise,

'Tis heaven to live beneath thine eyes,
Thou art my joy, my life, my bliss,
My soul exists on thy burning kiss,
Now it thirsts deeply, come, lady, come,--
Love is my god,-thy heart his home.

THE LOVER'S FATE.

BY FREDERICK TYRRELL, ESQ.

The course of true love never did run smooth.-Shakspeare.

In a church, not many miles from Palermo, is a splendid monument to the memory of the heir of the house of Spalzano, one of the richest and most ancient families in Sicily. One day, while contemplating the splendor of the sculpture, and the mutability of human greatness, I was roused from my reverie by a deep drawn sigh, which escaped from the breast of an old man who stood behind me. I turned round, and, looking in his face, perceived a tear starting beneath his venerable grey eye-brows, which were still gazing on the monument. This man, thought I, doubtless knows something of Spalzano's history, my curiosity to learn which was not roused until his sigh struck to my heart, and seemed to tell that something melancholy attached itself to the memory of him over whose ashes we now stood, and on whose memorial both our attentions were fixed. I therefore resolved on addressing the old man: and, finding him communicative and pleased with my being an

attentive auditor, I took his advice, and followed him to the church porch, where, seating ourselves on a block of stone, I listened to the following narrative, which was only interrupted by an occasional tear, which, for a few moments, checked my companion's utterance.

"That monument," said he, "stands over the remains of as noble and as good a young man as Sicily ever gave birth to. He died when he had scarcely arrived at his twentysecond year; had it pleased the Almighty disposer of events to have spared his life but a few years longer, his actions would have secured him a merited rank with the noblest and wisest of Sicilians.

"His father, the Count Spalzano, lost his countess soon after the birth of this, his only child; it is not, therefore, to be wondered at, that he looked with almost more than parental fondness on the heir to the wealth and honors of his ancient house; and all the wishes of the son were acquiesced in by the father.

"On an adjoining estate lived another noble family, whose daughter, Rosalvina, was the constant companion of the young Spalzano from their days of childhood. She was gifted with a beautiful figure and an amiable disposition, and their union was looked forward to with blissful anticipations by both parents. As years rolled on, it was evident they lived but for each other, and neither seemed happy whenever they chanced to be apart.

Rinaldo, the younger son of a Neapolitan of rank, who had resided many years at Corlione, some distance from Palermo, having accidentally met the fair Rosalvina in her morning walks, became greatly enamoured with her personal beauty, and was continually intercepting her path whenever Spalzano was absent. At these moments he poured forth his protestations of unalterable attachment, and used every specious means of endeavouring to engraft himself in her good opinion. It was vain that she told him how useless were all his persuasions, her heart already being another's;-it was vain that she threatened, unless he desisted from his suit, to inform her father, as well as Spalzano, of his visits. The more she resisted, the more he persevered. At length he even went so far as to serenade her under her chamber windows.

Rosalvina now thought it only prudent to acquaint her