is of whom we have been discoursing (if in London) who reap the benefit. Their ages of admission being from sixteen to twenty-six years, between which periods they, in general, find their fatal mistake, and are happy to find an asylum under so beneficent an institution. Or if, unhappily, their situations in life are too far distant, or other casual accidents prevent them from obtaining the benefit, they must inevitably fall a victim to their misfortunes and vice, and the world's contempt. Which brings to my remembrance a poem, entitled The Country Church Yard.
"Where the long grass obscures yon briery grave,
"And antique yews their branches sadly wave,
"A wretched female, with the silent dead,
"Unnotic'd, unlamented, rests her head.
"No weeping friend is seen to deck her bier,
"Or o'er her ashes shed the tender tear:
"But, buried in the tomb's sad mouldering heap,
"Her sorrows and her fate in silence sleep.
"'Tis beauteous Jeffey's frail, neglected shade,
"Whose pale form swells the solitary glade.
"Ah, hapless fair! I hear the still slow gale,
