Christenings and burials in London last year--Christened 12,574 males, and 11,726 females--total 24,300.
Buried 9,671 males and 9,557 females--total 19,228. Being a decrease of 477 burials from the preceding year.
The following trifle was published in one of the earlier numbers of the Port Folio, when that work was edited by the late JOS. DENNIE; but the author would be gratified, by seeing it transplanted into the columns of the _Rural Magazine_.
Lines written on seeing an Aspen tree, which the venerable owner had determined to fell; but observing the initials of the name of a much lamented son incised on the bark, he resolved to protect it from every assailant.
Hail! fortunate tree, which has weather'd the blast, And 'scaped the blind fury of woodchopper's arm, Thy bark was inscribed in times which are past, And the favourite letters protect thee from harm:
For to the fond breast of a father they bring, The image how dear! of a promising youth; Whose bosom was warm as the noon-tide of spring, Whose conduct dictated by virtue and truth:
But alas! when the summons to sleep with the dead, Is signed by the merciless fingers of death, Nor virtue, nor truth can its influence shed, To detain for a moment the fast ebbing breath.
His soul from its cerement compelled to depart, Winged its way to the regions of bliss and repose, And left a loved parent in sorrow of heart, To think on his loss, and to tell o'er his woes:
But though the fond form to his eye may be lost, Yet shall dear _mementos_ recall it to mind; And the tree which by tempest and storm has been tost, Shall with tremulous motion still wave in the wind. E.
Who bade to light the morning skies, The glorious orb of day to rise?-- Who first the waves of ocean curl'd, And roll'd its waters round the world?-- Who bade the soil the harvest yield And deck'd the flow'rets of the field-- From Chaos this terrestrial ball Call'd into life?----The GOD of all. HE, within whose almighty hands Humility supported stands, Who with his _own_ bestow'd _our_ breath And saved us from eternal death.
To him then let us joyous raise The song of gratitude and praise, And bless him, that his bounties flow, In endless streams to all below; And that his boundless grace has given, To man--a final rest in heaven. A.