FOR THE ENQUIRER.
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... THE DRUNKARD'S SOL1LOQUY. Tm .rhich the muse metes tke to the ncaning The joys of Fife aye far gone from me, And grief but I reap from its revelry: .. That poisoned bowl! I've slipped from its brim, Yes, drank iron, its fatal dregs within. How stern, and base is its slavery; It has maddcn'd then scourgcd me Isce; feel it's death, and rue its pain, Then ouaff the burning stream again. once was of fortune, and fair; The bright signet of virtue shone there, Where this foul index has since so disgracefuy sat, Which tells that my whole is as loathsone as that. then I was handsome, I know, was cour.ed, and dalled with so; ..+. Freud then was, that fear was the least, Of becoming sot-much less vile beast. 'Tis now then myself that am here, But not as once did appear: Then hat, and then coat of my youth Oh, tell me do people say truth? declare, this IS sad plight, Neer seen in so striking light ... hold the false chalce once more Shall dash thee or drink us before7

 You've wronged me, near killed me.

 Art killing me still;

 You do it no more, sir,

 I'm bound if you wilt

 I'll crush thee, harsh monster

 You're under my feet;

 Cold Uater forerer,

 They say i. is sweet. a R. C.