{"newspaper_name": "The Litchfield County post.", "edition": "01", "page": "p1", "byline": ""}
{"character_count": 1553, "word_count": 270, "ccnet_language_score": [0.8851000070571899], "ccnet_perplexity": [1233.0999755859375], "fasttext_language": ["en"]}
From the Monthly and ENrOpeGn MGgaztne. On! what is pleasure, in whose chase Life's one brief day is made,a race

 Ofvanity and lightnessn J3 A star, to gaze on whose bright crown, We wait until the sun goes down, And find, when it has OCT us shone, No warmth in all it's brightness. And what is Friendship? That false fow'r Which spreads its leaves at daylight's hour,

 And closes them at eve; Opening its petals to the light, Sweet-breathing while the sun shines bright But shut to those who, midst the night Of doubt and darkness, grieye. And what is Fame the smile that stays, The cup in which sweet poison plays;

 At best, the Aowery wreath, That twip'd around the victim's head When, midst sweet Aow'rs around it spread, And ssharps and timbrels' sounds, 'tis led

 Melodiously, to death. And what are Hopes Gay butterflies That on the breath of fancy rise,

 Where'er the sun- beam lures them; For ever, ever on the wing, ... MockingS jour faint steps following. And if at last caught, perishing

 In the grasp that secures them., And our affections, what are they? Oh! blossoms smiling on the spray,

 All beauty, and all sweetness But which the canker may lay bare, Or rude hands from the branches tear, 5. Or bIighting winds leave whitening there,

 Sad types of mortal feetness. And what is Life itself? A sail With sometimes an suspicious gale,

 And some bright sunbea,ns round it, But oft'ner amidst iempests cast, The low'ring sky, the bowling blast,T And 'whelm'd beneath the wave at last,

 Where never plunmet sounded. 4 -..a~. H. N.