"Palmer, quoth he, death is an equall doome
To good and bad, the common In of rest."
A Leicestershire poet has recorded, in the churchyard of Melton Mowbray, a very different conception of our "earthly Inn." He says:
"This world's an Inn, and I her guest:
I've eat and drank and took my rest
With her awhile, and now I pay
Her lavish bill, and go my way."
You may, perhaps, consider this hardly worthy of a place in your paper; but I act upon the principle which you inculcate in your motto.
Erica.
Campbell's "Pleasures of Hope."—It has often occurred to me that in two lines of the most celebrated passage in this poem,—