the music were four men each bearing a large garland of flowers, and after them followed the merry lads and smiling lasses in good order and arrayed in their holiday kirtles.  The vicar’s house stands on a fine lawn commanding a most enchanting view.  On this verdant carpet, after a promenade and general salute to their worthy pastor and his numerous guests, dancing took place; for the time all distinctions were laid aside, and the greatest gentry in the neighbourhood, taking the hand of their more humble neighbours, led them through the mazy dance with a feeling of kindness, friendship, and good humour such as I have seldom witnessed.  Two or three hours of as beautiful an evening as ever zephyr kissed were thus spent, after which, drawing up before the house “the King” was given, with three times three; next came “God save the King,” and then “Hurrah for the Bonnets o’ Blue” led the party off in the order they came to witness the ceremony of “dressing” the May-Pole.  About five hundred yards brought us to the elevated object on which was placed, with all due solemnity, the before-mentioned garlands, and the pole being considered fully dressed, we all adjourned to a large barn, where dancing was kept up with great spirit, until night drew her sable curtain over the scene, and the company retired with light hearts and weary feet to their peaceful homes.

Such, sir, is the Dorsetshire way of hailing the return of gentle skies and genial seasons; a custom of the olden time, which is productive of good feeling among all classes, and is at present conducted with good order and respectability.

Sturminster.

RURIS.

* * * * *

Old Poets.

* * * * *

CUPID’S ARROWS.

  At Venus’ entreaty for Cupid, her son,
  These arrows by Vulcan were cunningly done: 
  The first is Love, as here you may behold
  His feathers, head, and body, are of gold. 
  The second shaft is Hate, a foe to Love,
  And bitter are his torments for to prove. 
  The third is Hope, from whence our comfort springs,
  His feathers are pull’d from Fortune’s wings. 
  Fourth, Jealousy in basest minds doth dwell,
  This metal Vulcan’s Cyclops sent from Hell.

G. Peele.

* * * * *

MIND.

  It is the mind that maketh good or ill,
  That makes a wretch, or happy, rich or poor,
  For some that have abundance at their will,
  Have not enough but want in greatest store,
  Another that hath little asks no more,
  But, in that little is both rich and wise.

Spenser.

* * * * *

THE WORLD.