ZILMICA 7"Zos UGMIA%S.TIpt,s WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 4, 1846 The Death of the Old Tear. =1 Fall ineeKleep lies the winter now. Arid the winds are wearily sighing. Toll ye the church bell sad and. slow And tired softly and speak low, ' For the old year lies &dying. Old year, you must not die; You esme to us so readily, TOO lived with us so steadily, • Old year you shall not die. ' He lieth still he :loth not move : He will not see the dawn of day,. He twat no other life above. He gave me a friend, and a title, true-love, And the New year will take ''em away. J 31.1 veer,you must not gb; So long ■s you bete been with us, • Such joyru you have seen with no, OW year; you shall not go. He froth'd his bumper to the brim; A jollier year we shall not see; • But though his eyes are waxing dim, And Oneh his foes speak ill °China, He was a friend to me. Old year you shall not die; We did so laugh and cry with yap.. hulla.rnind to die with you, Old year, if you must die. He WWI JOU of joke and jest, Bit all his merry quips are o'er, To see him ;lie, across the waste, His son and heir doth rid* post•hute, - But he'll be dead before. Every one fur his own; The night is starry and cold, my friend, And the New-year .blithe — and bold, my friend % COmes op to take his own. How hard he breathes! over the snow I heird just mice the crowing cock, The shadows flicker to and fur The crickr; chirp; the ligl tburns low; b newt twelve o'Clock. Shake hands, bef cc you dio Old year, we'll dearly rue fir you: 'What ti it we can do for you? • Speak Wi:t before you die. cacti. growing sharp and thin. Ahrk! oar 'friend is gone. Close up his eyes: lie up his chin : t , tep horn the corpse, and let him in That standeth there alone, ' • And waiteth nt the door. There's a new foot on the floor, my friend, And smear face at the door, my friend, "- ..k new face at the door. Tim ENGLISH PF:ASANT—There is some- I.ing humbling to pride M a rustic's life. It grates against the heart to think of the tune in which we unconsciously 'permit ourselves to ad 7 ,ress' him. We see in him humanity in, its ritople shape ; its a sail thought to feel that we tlespise it ; that all see respect 'ln our species what has been created by art—the gaudy ilre