Or that day may prove unkind,
Thine anticipation blind!
The best pleasure thou wilt know
May be to brood upon thy woe:
Wailing happy days gone by,
When fancied pleasures mock'd thine eye:
Days that never shall return.
Mortal, then, this lesson learn--
Struggle not against thy fate,
For thy last day hath its date!
It is written in the skies,
And a guardian angel cries,
Dream no more of earthly joys,
They are fleeting, fickle toys.
CYMBELINE.
* * * * *
THE TOPOGRAPHER
* * * * *
ROAD BOOK OF SCOTLAND.
Tourists will never cease to remember their obligations to Mr. Leigh, the
publisher of this pretty little volume. He has done so much for their
gratification in his New Pocket Road Books, (of which series the present
work is one,) that their success ought to be toasted in all the delightful
retreats to which they act as _ciceroni_. In his Road Book of England and
Wales, he has done what Mr. Peel is now doing with our old Acts of
Parliament--consolidating their worth, and rejecting their obsoleteness.
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