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M c f l c c t o r . A F r a g m e n t . — You ask the meaning of the word end, and to this end I write. From the begin- 'ingto the end , some end should be kept in view, or we might u*e words to no end. The end is the extremity of any length, as the end of a street; if you go beyond it, you may go on to no end. A ropes end may be either end ; for however short the end of a rope, it has two ends —the end applied being for distinction the rope’s end ; the loose end is the end given ; the end in hand being, as it were, the root, is no end . Thus a growing tree or gooseberry bush while growing may be said to have no end, or definable end ; being cut down, it has two end', — “ this end” and “ t’other end,” and thus ends may be multiplied :—each twig, each thorn, when severed, has two ends —but while unsev ered, unbound, or unrooted, has but one end ; and thus one’s hair is said to stand on end, and the end it stands on being the root end, seems to be a contradiction to the tree having no end while it stands on its root. The end of this observation is to show how end may be used grammatically, philogically, and idiomatically; and thus the end of the argument is the gist of it, and not the c lose; and yet the close of an argument is the end of it, but we have not yet come to our end ; for our end is to live well while we can, and those who do this need hot fear a bad end — to come to a “bad end ” being an untimely end ; but death will be our end, and they say the world must come to an end, yet this cannot be a physical end —the idea confuses yet most people believe it to be round; and yet again, to find an end to a round body would puzzle most people— so that it may be said to be “a world without end .” But fearing you may think I may go on without end , I will now end, and say— th e e n d . — JV. Y. Mirror. Figure o f Speech. At a training in one of the northern counties ot this state, several years since, the professioal merits of two drum* mers, a certain Ben Morse, dram major to the regiment, and a very uncertain Tom Burn am, a candidate for the same office^ were discussed very freely by the soldiers, over a pint tumbler of blue ruin, at a cake and beer shantee, just without the sentry. Some maintained that Burnam wa» the best musician, others again that Morse had not his superior** in six coun ties,” when a long lanthern jaw’d freckled-face chap, standing some six feet four, without ei ther stockings or shoes, elbowed his way into the-ring, with an old rusty Queen Ann’s fire lock in one hand, and a card o f rye ginger-bread in the other, and after picking his teeth with his bayonet; wiping his face #n something that served as an apriogy for a coat sleeve, addres sed one of the company thus — “ I tell you what it is Corporal Cowan, I grant that Morse can beat Burnam in drumming on training tunes but then, when you came to the real Sentimen tal —I tell you Corporal (anu he spoke the words with great emphasis) Tom Burnam can drum Ben Morse’s shirt-tail off!” A jockey being asked by another, if he could ride well upon a saddle, and being answered in the affirmative, that is well, replied the former, for then you have no need of a horse. A brave tar, with a wooden leg, who was on board Admiral P arker’s fleet in the enorasement O c* with the Dutch, having the misfortune to have the other shot off, as his comrade was convey ing him to the surgeon, notwithstanding the poignancy of his agonies, (being a man of hu mour) he could not suppress his joke, saying, It was high time for him to leave off play, when his last pin was bolted down/’ Some years ago, a gentlemen at Windsor took the place of the organist, with a view to show his superiority in execution. Among other pieces he was playing one of Dr. Blow’s anthems, and just as he had finished the verse part and begun the full chorus, the organ cea sed. On this he called to Dick the bellows - blower, to know what was the matter .-“ The matter,” says Dick, “ I have played the anthem beloiv .” “Aye,” says the other, “ but I have not played it above.” “ No matter,’’ quoth Dick, “you might have made more haste then; 1 know how many puffs go to one o f Dr. Blow’s anthems as well as you do ; I have not played the organ so many years for nothing.” H igh B irth .—Good blood so called, is a good thing, inasmuch as it often brings with it an acceptable heritage—arable land, wood land, and pasture land, together with rents, div idends, &c. But throw aside Mammon, and we consider all blood to be pretty much the same. At all events, its heraldic shades of co lour have little to do with the quality of Genius. POETRY. GINEVRA. She was an only child—her name Ginevra, The joy, the pride of an indulgent father; And in her fifteenth year became a bride, Marrying an only son, Francisco Doria, - Her playmate from her birth, and her first love. Just as she looks there in her bridal dress, She was all gentleness anc? gdiety, Her pranks the favourite theme of every tongue. But now the day was come, the day, the h o u r; Now frowning, smiling, for the hundredth time, The nurse, the ancient lady, preach’d d ecorum ; And in the lustre of her youth she gave Her hand with her heart in it, to Francisco. Great was the joy. but at the nuptial feast, When all sat down,the bride herself was wanting. Nor was she to be found! Her father cried, “ Tis but to make a trial of our love!” And fill’d his glass to a ll; but his hand shook, And soon from guest to guest the panic spread. ’Twasbut that instant she had toft F rancisco, Laughing and looking back and flying still, Iler ivory teeth imprinted on his finger ; But now, alas, she is not to be found ; Nor from that hour could any thing be guess’d. But that she was n o t! Weary of his life, Francisco flew to Venice, and embarking, Flung it away in battle with the Turk Donati lived—and hong might you have seen An old man wandering as in quest of something, Something he could not find—he knew not what, When he was gone, the house remained a while Silent and tenantless—then went to strangers, Fifty years were past, and all forgotten, When on an idle day, a day of search ’ iVljd th 6 old lumber in the gallery, That mouldering chest was noticed ; and ’twas said by one as young, as thoughtless as Ginevra, “ Why not remove it from its lurking place?’’ ’Twas done as soon as said? but on the way It burst, it fell, and lo! a skeleton With here and there a pear’, an emerald stone, A golden clasp, clasping a shred of gold ; All else had perished—save a wedding ring* And a small seal, her mother’s legacy, Engraven with a name, the name of both— “ Ginevra.” * * * * --------- There then has she found a grave ! Within the chest she had concealed herself, Fluttering with joy, the happiest of the happy ; When a stpring-k>ck that lay in ambush there, Fastened her down forever I R O G E R S , LOVE. ’Tis sweet to eye The cloudless sky, W hen the stars are brightly beaming-— And sweet to gaze On the rosy rays Of the sun in the morn first gleaming. And sweet’s the hour WThen music’s power, Soft o’er the senses stealing, Holds heav’nly reign, And its silken chain Throws o’er each raptur’d feeling. But yet more sweet The responsive beat, Of love’s twin heart against each o ther: When naught repels Their wistful swells, Or bids the sparkling flame to smother*
