Ah! how oft in the toil and strife,
The chances and changes which we call life,
By slight and neglect in time of need,
We kill the flower, and we rear the weed;
Then when we see it, and know too late,
We blame not ourselves, but curse our fate,
For no solace have we on which to lean,
When we know what we long for might have been.
The Conductors of Chambers’s Journal beg to direct the attention of Contributors to the following notice: