ZION he Matchez Free Trader.
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Scene On an Editors Chamber.--It was
in the dusk ofa melancholy evening. An
edi or sai-nOt in the spacious halls If his
iathers-not in the luxuriant boudoir Of his
mistress-nor in the minstrel's trellised
bower-but alone in his dusty apartment
Of ten feet by twelvel Before him was
crazy deal table, scantly covered with
baze, few old books and heaps Of news
papers lay around; and his inkstand was
not Of porcelain nor ebony, nor grotesque
bronze, but the socket end Of a champaign
bot;le,ihe generousawine had never spark-
led on HIS lips! HE had quafIcd none Of
its poarly inspiration. A long, narrow
window, filled up, with two rows of little
smoked panes, stood hoisted before him,
from which a faded chintz curtain haunt-
ed lazily in the dying air, like the draggled
shirt Of some blowsy slaiternl A thread
bare carpet, four feet square was on the
hoor--and the dun walls fairly gaped in
their nakedness, save here and there, the
eye rested on some pencilling-not the
outlines Of an artist, nor diaHam Of q
mathematical brsin--but the memoradum
kept with his nash Domani HIS weekly
ledgerl There is no poetry in such {
schedule. Alas! the poor scribe! sadly a.
he needs change, he often looks srrlou:
at the approach Of his laundress; some
times, indeed, he skulks until she disap
pears


=


Night drew on apace, and the write
leaned his fevered brow upon his hand
lost 70 the gloom Of @biter fancies." Il
Vain ha surnnnned nb;lolo,b., =, IN. e,,,,.