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THE CARRIER'S KflW YSAS'S ACORX3SS. TO THE PATRONS OF TIIE 1832. The meaning; nijht wind swelling; high, Drives searfy clouds o’er all the sky; The rushing river*’ sullen roar— The murmer of the forests’ hoar— All, sadly sound in fancy’s ear, The dirge of the departed year : ’Tis past —in its career sublime, Adown the billowy tide of time : W ith lofty hrow and crest of foam, *Tis past —and with it, bears along, Impressions, lasting, deep and strong— Of good and ill, of right and wrong, Da ck to i ts awful home. From and rk oblivion’s cold enthral, Yet, memory shall its ehade recall From the dread “vastly deep Shall bid again the past to live, And the dread Phantom’s shall sue give To History’s muse to keep. She saw nations rouse at Freedom’s call ; The valiant Polack and the gallant Gaul; The Briton bold, relumes bis ancient fires, And to his fathers proudest praise aspires ; The sailor king gives with an Aigis soul. What John renounced —what traitor Crom well stole ; The soft Italian bursts his galling-chain ; The glorious voice has rous’d romantic Spain. The Belgian,bold in Freedom’s cause, is seen, And generous Erin waves Iter banner green : lntrcedom’e cup the Oaul'his senses drown’d, With frantic hand then dash’d it t the ground. Now view his glories won with blood and pain, A craftier tyrant and a looser chain, M bile shifting Patriots baffled and betrayed Now etirse the sceptered thing, themselves have made. But see portentous, darkly rushing forth, The storm of war r.lls black’i.ing from the north, The swarming hordes of the despotic Czar, Willi conquest flushed and red from Moslem war. With mad deepatr, twice butchered, Warsaw viewed Her warrior eons borne down, but unsub dued ; While red Vistula on her blushing wave, Wafts down the burden of her slaughtered brave— While the base Jackall, freedom’s deadliest foe, The felon Prussia aims the assssin blow ; While traitor Austria saw the valiant fall, Nor thought upon her rescued capital, When Sobie.ski, saviour of the land, Wrench’d the red sabre from the Moslem’s hand, W hile Gaul and Britain slander of the brave, Look'd calmly on —look’d on and would not save. Yes—stood like cravens, and refus’d to grant The aid they owed—the aid they yet shall want. But Ictus turn from injured Europe’s climes, From tyrant malice, and from tyrant crimes, Turn to our own lov’d land, whose favor'd race, In freedoms’ smiles, still nurse the arts of peace; W’here piety unpension'd makes abode, Pre as the mother of the Saviour God, Where, hid her su-orJin fiow’rs, and pois'd her scale, Themis’ steps still mark the happy vale, W here virtues firm our happy plain still tread, And star-eyed science ‘lifts her laurel’d heal.’ GEORGIA, I proudly turn to thee ! Land of the lovely and the free! Where slopes the vale, or forests rise, Land of bright earth and brilliant skies. Still let me view with raptur’d gaze, Thy rustling fields of fragrant maz" ; Thy silken harvests waving wide, Thy fair Savannah’s verdant pride, Thy mountain streams, so pure so cold. That, leaping from thy lulls, are roll'd O'er ehrystal rocks, and sands of gold. O! still he thine each blessing, given In mercy by indulgent Heaven ! 0! still, be thine, the world’s applause, 'Till e'en the savage bless thy cauie, Protected by thy equal laws. O l Angel cf the new born year, Be thine still richer gifts to bear; Still choicer bliss to bring, Sweet as the scroll to beauty dear, That’s kist whilegem’d with many a tear, The faithful dove thro’ fields of sir, Wafts on this weary wing. Now turn we to a sadder scene, That threw a murky cloud betwern Our Christmas sports and Christmas cheer, In honor of the natal year. Whenband met hand, and heart, met heart, And none fc’endream’d of danger nijh, A loud alarm makes us start, And streams of flame flash on the eye. The “Town’s on fire I”—the awful cry Socn runs in every street; Whet, thousands to the conflict fly, The danger stern to meet. The gallant hearts that mettho flaming fie Soon quench’d his fires and laid the danger low. My lay is finished—but my pa‘rons dear, There is something yet your newsboy’s heart to cheer; My delicacy! good Lard I’m ’fraid I’ll shock it, No fear—for now I see yom hand is in your pocket ; Ladies and Gents, I now will cease thy humming, Ar.d always be, your’s truly, W. GUMMING. And let me add, if ycu’d he happier, wiser, Just come to Slade’s and take the “v idrcilistr .**