Rhode Island Republican

For the Rhode-Island Republican.

Mr. Farnsworth,

By inserting the following beautiful reflections on Sun Set, taken from an old Magazine, you will much oblige one of your readers, and perhaps please the taste of many of your subscribers, who are tired of nothing but paper warfare, and the repeated jarings of Feds, apostate Whigs, and old Tories. Should this meet your approbation, I shall occasionally transmit to you such pieces as may, probably, be more agreeable to the general taste -

your readers. By giving this a place in your next useful paper, you may gain more friends than you are aware of.--Eliza.

Reflections on Sun Set.

Behold now the beautiful evening drawing her sable curtain over the world; all circumstances concur to hush our passions, and soothe our cares: Liberty, that dearest of names, and property, that best of charters, gives an additional and inexpressible charm to every delightful object. See how that amazing luminary beautifies the Western clouds, descending lower and lower, till his chariot wheels seem to hover on the utmost verge of declining day. The ground is now overspread with glimmering shades, making a most beautiful landscape. The melodious tribe of feathered songsters, full of grateful acknowledgement, are now paying their last tribute of harmony, and soothing themselves to rest, with an hymn of praise to the great Creator. See! the distant eminences are tipt with streaming gold; the loftiest trees in yonder groves, catch the last smiles of declining day; all nature still irradiated by those departed, but late resplendent beams.

But oh! how transient is the distinction! how momentary the gift: like all other blessings which mortals enjoy below, it is gone almost as soon as granted. See how faintly it trembles on the leafy spires; the lowing herds are bending slowly their way along the verdant meadow, to meet the curded pail, which daily robs them of their sweets, gathered from nature. Now even the gamesome lambs are grown weary of their frolicks, and the tired shepherd has imposed silence on his pipe; the little vivacity that remains of day, every moment decays; it can no longer hold its station; while I speak, it expires, and resigns the silent world to night!

"Now twilight grey,

"Has in her sober livery all things clad."