Soft breathings of aerial melody,
Ye seem like love-songs from the elfin land,
Or soundings from that heaven-commissioned band,
Ushering the good man to the bliss on high. 
Now swells the chorus full, anon ye die
Away upon the breeze, so soft and bland
Melting on evening’s ear.  Sure Love’s own hand
In kindest mood hath wrought this minstrelsy. 
How to the lorn heart does its influence creep,
As the wild winds sweep o’er the fairy strings,
Bringing again departed, perish’d things,
O’er which we feel it luxury to weep. 
Sing on ye zephyr-sprites, your vespers cheer
The heart, whose off’ring is a holy tear.

Sturminster. COLBOURNE.

* * * * *

THE COSMOPOLITE.

HINTS FOR SELF-ADVANCEMENT; OR, HOW TO MAKE ONE’S WAY IN THE WORLD.

(For the Mirror.)

When you visit married people, pay particular attention to their children:  the more noisy, troublesome, and disagreeable they are, the more is it incumbent upon you to praise them.  Should the baby entertain you with a passionate squall for an hour or two, vow that it is “a charming child”—­“a sweet pet”—­“a dear, pretty, little creature,” &c. &c.  Call red hair auburn, and “a sweet, uncommon colour;” a squint, or cross-eye, think “an agreeable expression;” maintain that an ugly child is extremely handsome, and the image either of one or other of its parents, or of its handsomest, wealthiest, or most aristocratic relations.  Discover which of a family is mamma’s, and which papa’s favourite, and pay your court accordingly; for it is better to lavish, in this case, your attentions and encomiums upon one or two, than upon all.

When requiring an introduction to any great people, scruple not to avail yourself of the services of the little; but when mounted as high as you please, by all means kick down your ladders, cast away your stepping stones—­since they might, instead of being of any further assistance, only prove incumbrances to you.

Take every opportunity of joining in conversation with those to whom you desire to recommend yourself.  Should you feel at a loss for topics of discourse, mention servants, and tradesmen, upon whom fail not to bestow most hearty abuse;—­vow that they are an unprincipled set of knaves, scoundrels, and thieves.  Hence you will be thought to have “much to say for yourself;” and should you be enabled to narrate any grievous losses sustained from these members of society, you will obtain credit for having “something to lose” at any rate, and find it of incalculable value.

When you direct a letter to a knight bachelor—­though it is indeed customary and well-bred to omit altogether the Knt.—­yet it will never be taken amiss should you venture to address him as a Knight of the Garter, Bath, &c. &c., or even as a Baronet.  Undoubtedly it is as vulgar to misapprehend and confound titles, as it is to mispronounce and misspell names; nevertheless rest assured, that flattered vanity will go far to pardon vulgarity.