Column for the Boys.

cheer, is quite a different matter: the noise we menMY DEAR YOUNG FRIENDS You will not fail to ob- tion as so reprehensible is the obtrusive boisterousness of an intractable disposition, the insufferable, the everserve, as you increase in years and stature, that peo-lasting coarseness of one who is utterly reckless of the ple are governed in their conduct not only by certain feelings of those about him. Besides being noisy, the laws ordained by legislative assemblies, and which ill-bred man is easily discomposed. A little thing will they are bound to obey, but by a variety of rules and put him about. Loud exclamations of surprise, angry bursts of passion, and perhaps oaths and imprecations, arrangements imposed merely by society at large, and testify the irritability of his mind, and the ill-regulated sanctioned by the force of custom. You must under-condition of his manners; all which is most offensive stand that the laws for governing mankind, such as to those who have the misfortune to mingle in his those for punishing the wicked and protecting the society. A third peculiarity in the behaviour of an peaceable, are not more necessary for our welfare and ill-bred person, and one which is generally the most observable, is the uncouthness of many of his actions. comfort than those inferior rules for regulating our Feeling abashed although he has done nothing to be general behaviour, and the terms of our intercourse ashamed of he does not know how to comport himself with each other. It is of great consequence, for the so as to appear easy or elude observation. In this attainment of tranquillity and satisfaction of mind, dilemma he shifts, shuffles, and tries various ways of that every human being, whether old or young, rich sitting or standing. His most common resource is or poor, should so conduct him or herself as not to meddling with his hair, or touching some part of his face. This gives employment to his hands, and has, give unnecessary pain, by word or deed, to neighbours, as he thinks, a look of being at ease, while in reality or any one with whom they come in contact. By attend- it is quite the reverse. I may here inform you that ing to such an arrangement, the feelings of no one are it is considered exceedingly bad manners to touch hurt; all live on terms of kindly consideration one either the hair or any part of the head or countenance with the hands. In company, or when in any public towards another; and life is passed in a state of complace, you must take care to avoid doing so. The parative ease and happiness, instead of a condition of dressing and arranging of the hair, like that of cleansing the face and hands, is a duty to be performed only in private. I need hardly tell you that picking the nails, scratching or rubbing any part of the body or limbs, putting your fingers in your ears, and similar indecencies of behaviour, are equally inconsistent with good manners. They are actions which are exceedingly offensive to spectators, and are therefore carefully shunned by all persons possessing the slightest sense of propriety.

vexation and harassment.

It is unfortunate, that, notwithstanding all that has been printed and taught respecting the utility and extreme desirableness of people conducting themselves according to rules for good manners, many refrain from doing so, and either take a wicked pleasure in behaving rudely, and speaking intemperately and coarsely, or are altogether careless how far they offend in every thing that is decent and orderly. Such persons, however, no doubt err from ignorance. Their minds are untrained; and we can hardly expect propriety of behaviour from them till education has cultivated and refined their faculties. From you who are still young -still in the way of learning-and who will listen to an advice given by one who anxiously labours to put you on the way to honour and earthly enjoyment, I expect better things. In order, therefore, that you may pass life agreeably, and permit others to do the same, I have to inform you of the important particular, that attention to good manners is absolutely essential. You perhaps ask me to explain what it is that constitutes good manners. That I shall do in as simple a way as possible, leaving your parents and friends to fill up the minor details.

The grand leading point in good manners is so to act and speak as not to offend the feelings of others. At first sight, this would seem to be of easy accomplishment; yet it is very difficult. One can give pain, or offend, in so many different ways for instance, by being boisterous, noisy, talkative, saucy, pert, vain, self-conceited, and opinionative, by speaking on subjects disagreeable to the listener, by speaking too much of one's-self, by staring rudely, and by committing many other absurdities of behaviour in company-that you require not only to be well grounded in rules for good manners, but continually on your guard, lest you give offence, and by doing so render yourself hated and despised. In order to render yourself agreeable, you must, as a matter of course, give up a little of your natural independence. You must not go upon the principle implied by the exclamation-"I shall do as I like-I care for nobody-I will not be trammelled by any set of rules ;" for no one has a right to live in society and enjoy its blessings unless he is prepared to vield up a small portion of his self-will as the price. If he will not conform to the established rules for governing society, he had better retire to the fields, and live like a wild beast or a savage. The distinguishing feature in the conduct of a well-bred person, is the doing and saying of every thing with perfect ease, quietness, and decorum. He allows nothing to ruffle his temper, or to discompose his quietude of behaviour. He enters a room quietly, though by no means stealthily he sits down or rises up quietly, speaks with suavity and gentleness, and conducts himself in every other particular in a way calculated to please. The point worthy of your notice here, is the quietness of manner-the repose-the decorum, which is associated with the behaviour of the person of good breeding. You will never fail to remark the reverse in the case of individuals who are heedless of the rules which are observed in cultivated society. Look at the conduct of an ill-bred man. He enters a room with noise, sits down and rises up with noise, speaks with noise, and every thing else he does is done with noise. It would seem that he can do nothing quietly. When he sets down a chair, he causes it to knock against the floor; when he sits at table, he makes a noise with his knife and fork; when he blows his nose, the action is accompanied with noise; when he speaks, it is with noise; when he shuts a door, it is with noise; when he walks, every tramp of his foot is productive of noise. Noise is thus the characteristic of the ill-bred, as quietness is that of the well-bred man; and it is scarcely necessary to inform you that this noise is productive of any thing but agreeable sensations. Nobody can possibly like it: it mars every one's comfort. To be hearty, to laugh with those that langh, to cheer with those who

In endeavouring to avoid giving offence to those
about you, it will be necessary for you to learn to lis-
ten with consideration and patience to the person who
is addressing you, particularly if the speaker be a fe-
male. Let your answers be couched in civil obliging
that which you hear, do not contradict the speaker
language; and although you have reason to disbelieve
rudely or warmly. Merely observe that what is said
"is remarkable;" "that it may be so, but you heard
otherwise;" or, "there may be some mistake in the
report," and so forth; never, at any rate, flatly contra-
dicting, for that might give serious offence to one who
most likely means no harm, and who might be con-
vinced of his error by your politely explaining your
speak in company, do it with ease and without affec-
reasons for thinking differently from him. When you
tation; do not hum, and ha, and stammer, or appear
to be seeking for fine words wherewith to embellish
your discourse. A simple straightforward form of
speech, using the words you are best acquainted with,
and without any desire to show off, is always the most
commendable, and will be the most pleasing. Avoid,
also, the use of those vulgar expressions, which you
hear continually in the mouths of under-bred, clown-
ish persons, such as-" says she," "says he," “.
'you
understand," and "you know;" likewise such phrases
as, "Mr What-d'ye-call-him," "Mr Thingumbob,"
and so on.

It is true that all have not the same ability to
speak elegantly or well; but all have it in their power
to please by simplicity of manner and purity of verbiage.
It is quite possible to render your conversation accept-
able, although you use very common words. One of
the principal means of pleasing in discourse, consists
in not using any terms which can raise disagreeable
ideas or recollections in the minds of those whom you
are addressing, and this requires the exercise of good
taste, as well as a perception of the degree of refine-
ment of the party listening. Moreover, the ideas
which it may be legitimate for you to raise in matters
of business or in a particular description of society,
must not be brought forward amidst circles or in places
entirely inappropriate for their developement. Persons
in the humbler orders of society are generally too much
inclined to sneer at all conventional arrangements of
this nature. They say that these ceremonious rules,
however much they may be suited to the habits of
"fine people," are not for them. I regret that any
one should look upon good breeding in this erroneous
light. I regret that any class of persons should think
so meanly of themselves, as to say that they are un-
worthy of enjoying every possible amenity of culti-
vated society. If there be any thing agreeable in
good manners, why may not the poor as well as the
rich partake,of the blessing? Civility and politeness
one to another, do not cost a great deal. They are
the cheapest luxuries which can be purchased; and
why not, therefore, let them give dignity and delight
to the dwelling of the labourer and artizan, as well as
to the drawing-rooms of the titled and wealthy? The
truth is, the poor have it in their power to soften
greatly the asperities of their situation, by establish-
ing and enforcing rules of civility and politeness among
themselves. To what but to the absence of simple
unexpensive courtesies have we to attribute many
of the miseries of the humbler orders?
not told on high authority, that a "soft word turn-
eth away wrath ?" Why then should any one per-
sist in an indulgence in opprobrious epithets, impure
expressions, and all kinds of offensive actions, by which
ill-will, tumults, and fights, are produced, while by so
little trouble he could mollify resentment, and make
friends instead of bitter irreconcileable enemies.

Are we

The kind of complaisance which we are called on to exercise in our general intercourse with the world, is particularly requisite in the case of our mingling in the society of females. A becoming attention to the feelings and the wants of women is the true mark of a noble mind-the best criterion whereby to judge of Rudeness towards females at once good manners. stamps a man as of the lowest breeding, and, what is worse, testifies to the badness of his heart, the malignity of his disposition. Why such is the case, is very obvious. Women are not endowed with the power of defending themselves, like men. They must not resort to violence either in word or deed. They are compelled to use a certain delicacy of manner, which is often incompatible with a supply of their own wants. Being thus in some measure dependent beings, thrown on the generosity and claiming the protection of the stronger sex, any act of unkindness towards them is mean and unworthy, while any act of rudeness is accepted as a testimony of cowardice, and is justly visited with universal reprobation. I do not here speak only of ladies whom you may chance to meet in what are called the higher classes of society, but of all women, of whatever age and condition they happen to be. Such being the rule of behaviour regarding females, it is incumbent on you to show them every attention in your power, according to the circumstances of the occasion. For instance, when you meet a female, in walking along the side path on a road, it is your duty to allow her to take the side next the wall, that being the side of honour, or, in other words, the side least exposed to danger: When a female enters a room, or when she appears not to have a seat, it behoves you to hasten to find a chair for her convenience, which you politely ask her to make use of: When a female sits near or beside you at table, it is then still more incumbent on you to be attentive to her among other civilities, taking pains to assist her to what she may be pleased to eat or drink. It is undoubtedly the case, that politeness in this, as in every other department of social intercourse, may be overdone-like a part which is overacted, so as to become ridiculous and really ofhow far you ought to proceed in respect of consistency fensive; but I trust that your good sense will dictate and propriety of demeanour, and that, while avoiding the actions of a clown on the one hand, you will ever take care to shun that of a grimacier or buffoon on the

other.

THE BLINd mother.
Gently, dear mother, here
The bridge is broken near thee, and below
The waters with a rapid current flow-
Gently, and do not fear.
Lean on me, mother-plant thy staff before thee,
For she who loves thee most is watching o'er thee.
The green leaves, as we pass,
Lay their light fingers on thee unaware,
And by thy side the hazels cluster fair,
And the low forest grass
Grows green and lovely where the woodpaths wind—
Alas, for thee, dear mother, thou art blind!

And nature is all bright;

And the faint gray and crimson of the dawn,
Like folded curtains from the day are drawn;
And evening's dewy light
Quivers in tremulous softness on the sky-
Alas, dear mother, for thy clouded eye!

The moon's new silver shell
Trembles above thee, and the stars float up
In the blue air, and the rich tulip's cup

Is pencilled passing well.
And the swift birds on brilliant pinions flee-
Alas, dear mother, that thou canst not see!

And the kind looks of friends
Peruse the sad expression in thy face,
And the child stops amid his bounding race,
And the tall stripling bends
Low to thine ear with duty unforgot
Alas, dear mother, that thou seest them not!
But thou canst hear-and love
May richly on a human tone be poured,
And the slight cadence of a whispered word
A daughter's love may prove;
And while I speak thou knowest if I smile,
Albeit thou dost not see my face the while.

Yes-thou canst hear-and He,
Who on thy sightless eye its darkness hung,
To the attentive ear, like harps, hath strung
Heaven, and earth, and sea!
And 'tis a lesson in our hearts to know,
With but one sense the soul may overflow!
-Selections from the American Poets.

LONDON: Published, with Permission of the Proprietors, by ORE & SMITH, Paternoster Row; and sold by G. BxяGER, Ho!vwell Street, Strand: BANCKS & Co., Manchester: WEIGHTSON & WEBB, Birmingham; WILLMER & SMITH. Liverpool; W. E. SOMERSCALE, Leeds; C. N. WRIGHT, Nottingham; M. BINGHAM, Bristol; S. SIMMS, Bath; C. GAIN, Exeter; J. PURDON, Hull; A. WHITTAKER, Sheffield; H. BELLERBY, York J. TAYLOR, Brighton; GEORGE YOUNG, Dublin; and all ether Booksellers and Newsmen in Great Britain and Ireland, Canada, Nova Scotia, and United States of America.

Complete sets of the work from its commencement, or numbers to complete sets, may at all times be obtained from the Publishers or their Agents. Stereotyped by A. Kirkwood, Edinburgh. Printed by Bradbury and Evans (late T. Davison). Whitefriars.

CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM CHAMBERS, AUTHOR OF "THE BOOK OF SCOTLAND," &c., AND BY ROBERT CHAMBERS, AUTHOR OF "TRADITIONS OF EDINBURGH," "PICTURE OF SCOTLAND," &c.

ment rendered additional nourishment necessary, we endeavoured to persuade him that there was no nourishment whatever in ardent spirits. His reply was,

|

that all cannot be born among the higher ranks, for then the lower ones would be wanting, which constitute the comparison. Now, Caroline, we come to the | very point. Is it not better to be born under a govern، I dinna like, sir, to say you're leein'; but nourish-ment, in which there is neither extreme of high or low; | ment! I've heard my mither say fifty times that a where one man cannot be raised pre-eminently over anglass o' whisky was just a perfect medicine." No- other; and where our nobility consists of talent and virtue." " That sounds very patriotic, brother," said thing is more common than to argue, perhaps from a single and extraordinary case, that intemperate habits Caroline, with a laugh; "but I am inclined to think that wealth constitutes our nobility, and the right of are not very prejudicial to health; or, if few will be abusing each other, our liberty." found to express such a sentiment directly in words, many suffer it to have indirectly a most pernicious power over their minds. To be able to adduce one case where intemperance did not injure the health, seems to countervail the thousands of cases where it was most plainly the cause of death. We remember an aged bottle veteran who survived the worst treatment that the human constitution perhaps ever endured, and who attained to the advanced age of ninety-two. This toper was indirectly the cause of intemperate habits in many, who sank into their graves while he continued his libations. When the question came to be discussed, whether drunkenness was really very hurtful to the health, the conclusion arrived at was couched in some such overwhelming question as this: "Isna there auld Johnny Reddie, near ninety, that's been drinkin' hard this fifty year and mair, an' is as hale as the best o' us ?" This was irresistible. "Johnny" had indulged the practice for upwards of half a century; therefore the practise could not be hurtful. It was curious that no one thought of mentioning the vast numbers, who, by their pernicious habits, had literally killed themselves; and that it never occurred to the sapient reasoners that this extraordinary individual had survived half a century's drunkenness, not in consequence of it, but in spite of it. The same perversion of opinion is observable in numberless other instances. How much would society gain in comfort and happiness, could these errors be generally shown to be false! And how much misery might be avoided, were men less under the influence of opinions which have nothing to recommend them to belief but general currency!

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WEALTH AND FASHION,

AN AMERICAN STORY. *

"WHAT a pity it is," said Caroline, throwing aside her book, we are born under a republican government!" "Upon my word," said her brother Horace, "that is a patriotic observation for an American."

"Oh, I know," replied the sister, "that it is not a popular one; we must all join in the cry of liberty and equality; but for my part, I am tired of it, and I am determined to say what I think. I hate republicanism; I hate liberty and equality; and I don't hesitate to declare, that I am for a monarchy. You may laugh, but I would say it at the stake." "Bravo!" exclaimed Horace; "why, you have almost run yourself out of breath, Cara; you deserve to be prime minister to the king." "You mistake me," replied she, with dignity. "I have no wish to mingle in political broils; but I What do must say, I think our equality is odious. you think? To-day, the new chamber-maid put her head in at the door, and said, 'Caroline, your mamma

wants you.""

،،

"Excellent!" said Horace, clapping his hands and laughing. I suppose, if ours were a monarchical government, she would have bent one knee to the ground, or saluted your little foot, before she spoke. " No, Horace, you know there are no such forms as those, except in the papal dominions."

at titles."

99

"May I ask, then, your highness, what you would like to be ?" I should like," said she, glancing at the glass, "I should like to be a countess.' "You are moderate in your ambition; a countess, now-adays, is the fag end of nobility." "Oh! but it sounds so delightfully. The young Countess Caroline!" "If sound is all, you shall have that pleasure; we will call you the young Countess Caroline." ، That would be mere burlesque, Horace, and would make me ridiculous." "True," replied Horace; "nothing can be more inconsistent for us than aiming "For us, I grant you," replied Caroline; "but if they were hereditary, if we had been born to them, if they came to us through belted knights and high-born dames, then we might be proud to wear them. I never shall cease to regret that I was not born under a monarchy.' "You seem to forget," said Ho"that all are not lords and ladies in the royal race, dominions. Suppose your first squeak, as you call it, should have been among the plebeians." You may easily suppose, Horace, that I did not mean to take those chances. No, I meant to be born among the higher ranks." Your own reason must tell you

* We quote this story from "THE TOKEN, for 1836," an Ame

rican annual [Boston: Bowen, 1836] exhibiting a number of beau

tifully executed pictorial embellishments, and, as far as literature is concerned, considerably superior to the majority of annuals published in this country

"You mistake," returned Horace; "money may
buy a temporary power, but talent is power itself; and
when united to virtue, a God-like power, one before
which the mere man of millions quails. No; give me
talent, health, and unwavering principle, and I will
not ask for wealth, but I will carve my own way; and
depend upon it, wealth will be honourably mine."
"Well, Horace, I am sure I heartily wish you the
possession of all together, talent, principle, and wealth.
But depend upon it, the time is not distant, when
you shall see me in possession of all the rank that
any one can obtain in our plebeian country."
Such were the sentiments of the brother and sister;
had just received his diploma as attorney at law, Ca-
both perhaps unusually endowed with talent. Horace
roline had entered her eighteenth year, and was a
belle in her own circle, with the ideas we describe.
Mr and Mrs Warner had given birth to a forest of
little twigs, and certainly had tried to bend them all
one way, that is, to make them virtuous and contented.
But, under the same gentle discipline, nothing could
be more different than the dispositions of the two eldest
girls, Caroline and Fanny. Mrs Warner was a plain
unassuming woman, with no higher ambition than her
Some sacrifices had been made to
means afforded.
send their eldest son Horace to college, with the belief,
that, to give him a good education, was qualifying him
to assist in the advancement of his brothers. He had
as yet fully realised their expectations. He had not
thought it necessary, while at college, to engage in any
rebellion to prove his spirit and independence, but had
trod the path of duty with undeviating step, had had
one of the first parts awarded to him, and received an
honourable degree, instead of being suspended or ex-
pelled. He had prosecuted his professional studies with
diligence, and was now known as attorney at law.

Frances, or Fanny, as she was familiarly called, re-
lieved her mother from many of her domestic cares;
the other children were still too young to bear much
part in the busy scenes of life.

Among Horace's college friends, was a young man
of the name of Benson. He had there been his com-
panion, and was now his partner in business. They
occupied the same office, and were bound together by
the strongest ties of friendship. His association had
hitherto been chiefly confined to the young men. In
answer to Horace's commendations of his friend, Ca-
roline constantly replied, "He may be all you say, but
nobody knows him; he is in no society."" When she
met him, however, at a splendid ball, given by one
who stood first in his profession, her heart became a
little softened towards him, and in issuing invitations
To her as-
for a party, one was sent to Mr Benson.
tonishment, an answer was returned "declining the
"I am very glad," said Caroline, a little
honour."
piqued; "it would have been an awkward thing; he
66 No," replied Horace,
does not visit in our circle."
"he does not, at present, visit in any circle; he is de-
"" "How I detest a drone!" said
voted to business."
she, pettishly. "If you mean to apply that epithet
"True, I
to my friend, you are greatly mistaken."
ought to have said a drudge." "Yes," said Horace,
we brother lawyers, who ever hope to attain any
eminence, are all drudges."

66

Not long after, Caroline again met Benson in a circle
She had no longer
which she considered fashionable.
any objection to admitting him to her society, and
even exerted herself to appear amiable and charming.
"You certainly did not overrate your friend," said she
one day to her brother; "he is one of the most agree-
able men I ever met with. I wish he was a more fa-
shionable man. "I don't know what you mean,"
said Horace; "he certainly dresses remarkably well."
"His dress is well enough; I don't mean that." "His
manners are easy, and those of a gentleman." "Yes,
all that is very well; but I mean, that I wish it was
the fashion to invite and notice him."

should not hesitate; if I were sure he would be rich, I should hesitate no longer, because with wealth he could command any rank in society."

"I do not enter into these cold calculations," returned Horace ; "if ever I fall in love, it will be with a woman whose heart and not whose head is at work. However, you ask the question, and I will answer it. I do think that, in time, he will not only be rich, but be one of our most distinguished men." It is difficult to say how much this opinion influenced the young calculator, but her answer was by no means such as to throw Benson into despair. In a short time he was the acknowledged lover of Caroline, with the full and free consent of her parents, the warm-hearted appro bation of her brother, and the silent though feeling acquiescence of her sister.

Might it not seem that in such an union there were materials enough for happiness? But when is ambition satisfied? Benson was neither rich, nor a man of fashion; and after the first excitement of being engaged was over, Caroline grew listless and languid. Sometimes she was vexed that he did not devote his time to her, rather than to his profession; and sometimes she secretly murmured at her own rashness in basis, and was ready to mourn that beauty and taforming an engagement upon such an uncertain lents like hers should be doomed to such an unworthy lot. For a long time Benson was too entirely shielded by the uprightness of his own mind to suspect the tumult of her thoughts. Gradually, however, unpleasant reflections forced themselves upon him; he even suspected there might be something a little worldly in her character; but if so, what a proof she had given him of her attachment! She had taken him without fortune, and was willing to wait till a competence could be acquired.

One year passed away, and the winter of the second arrived. Caroline's discontent seemed to increase; she became even fretful at times, but there was a dignity and elevation in Benson's character which always checked the first ebullitions of spleen, and he saw much less of it than her own family. Horace became seriously alarmed; he feared that he might have made his friends, as well as his sister's future misery, in promoting a match that he began to think was not suited to either. At this crisis Caroline received an invitation to pass a few weeks with a relation at New York. Horace warmly seconded her wish to accept it, for he considered that her affection wanted such a test. A pleasant party of friends were going on, and the lovers parted with mutual protestations of fidelity. A short residence with her cousins the Ellisons convinced her they were among the refined, and stood on the very pinnacle of fashion.

We trust our readers have already discovered that Caroline had a reflecting mind. She immediately be gan to investigate and analyse the causes of their exaltation. In the first place, it was not beauty; for Mrs Ellison, without her French hat, blond veil, and diamond ear-rings, was almost plain. It certainly could not be high birth; for "her parents were nobody." The conclusion was obvious: it was her wealth, her elegant house, her stylish parties, and | superb carriage. Here, then, she concluded, she had found the principle of American aristocracy; and with this conviction came all the horrors of her own lotat the best, a competency with Benson !

One morning Caroline went to an auction with Mrs Ellison; fashionable ladies in New York condescend to buy bargains, as well as in London. She was struck with the amount and magnitude of her purchases. "Have you no fear," said Caroline, as they were returning home, "that Mr Ellison will think you extravagant ?" "It is nothing to him," said the lady; "I buy all out of my own allowance." "Is it possible," said Caroline, "that you have regular pin money ?" "You may call it pin money if you please," "I have a stated sum for my own said Mrs Ellison. expenses; I should be perfectly wretched if I had to go to Mr Ellison for every farthing I wanted to spend ; never marry without such a stipulation." Caroline thought of Benson; the recollection of him came over her like an east wind, and she turned blue and cold.

At first, Caroline was noticed as Mrs Ellison's friend, but her beauty soon attracted observation, and she quickly caught whatever was stylish in those with whom she associated. People ceased to inquire whether she was << any body." Many a distinguished lady of fashion, whose name had hitherto met her ear in faint echoes, now left her card for Miss Warner, and solicited her company at her soirées. "Oh !" thought Caroline, "if ever the time arrives when I can give soirées!" and again the image of Benson came over her, and again she turned blue and cold. It may be easily supposed, under such circumstances, that she strove to banish him from her mind; she ceased to write home, and hardly deigned to answer “I | the letters she received.

By degrees, Caroline ceased to cavil at Mr Benson's
standing in society. She had talent enough to ap-
preciate him, and all her powers of captivation were
exerted to enslave him. What does a man devoted to
business know of female character? He was entirely
satisfied that Miss Warner was "perfect and peerless,
and made of every creature's best." In a very few
months he was completely in love, and at the end of
another had offered himself. Caroline consulted her
brother. His encomiums as usual were warm.
know Benson perfectly," said he; "he is a man of
honourable principle and first-rate talent." "Do you
think he will ever be rich ?" asked Caroline. "I
think he is too fine a fellow," said Horace, with feel-
ing, "to be sacrificed to a woman whose first question
is Will he ever be rich ?'" "Let us understand
each other," said Caroline ; " I like Benson - I even
prefer him to any one I know. You say I am ambi-
tious-I admit it is so; then my object must be to
marry ambitiously. There is no sin in this; and I
never will marry any man that is not distinguished,
or able to make himself so. If Benson were rich, I

|

"Miss Warner," said Mr Ellison, one morning at the breakfast table, "I have a special embassy to you. Mr Burrell called on me yesterday, and after the warmest encomiums on Miss Warner's beauty, wit, and sweetness, asked me if she was disengaged. Í told him I presumed so. Am I right?" Caroline coloured, but gave an assenting bow. "What was the meaning of that report I heard about you being engaged ?" asked Mrs Ellison, as Caroline thought, very ill-naturedly. "I am not answerable for reports," replied she, blushing still deeper. "Never mind, Miss Warner," said the gentleman; "married

ladies always think the right of flirtation belongs ex-
clusively to themselves. Mr Burrell requests permis-
sion to call on you this evening, and that you will
have the goodness to see him alone. The truth is, he
means to offer himself, and you must be prepared with
an answer.' "Mr Burrell!" exclaimed she, with
affected astonishment; "he is old enough to be my
father." "Your grandfather, I should think," said
the gentleman."
"No matter," said Mrs Ellison;
"he is exceedingly rich." "Is he thought a man
of fashion ?" asked Caroline. "Whoever becomes
Mrs Burrell," said Mr Ellison, "will have the most
splendid house, carriages, furniture, et cetera, in the
city; she will have every thing but a young and agree-
able husband.” "Is he thought liberal ?" said Caro-
line. "That is not his general character, but probably
a young wife will make him so."

Evening found Caroline equipped for the interview. Mr Burrell came at the appointed hour. Notwithstanding his peruke, whiskers, and teeth, were of the best workmanship, the man of sixty stood revealed. His manner of making love certainly did not disgrace his years, as it was quite in the old-fashioned style; he called her "his lovely girl, his adorable charmer." She, in return, was all artlessness, and acknowledged that he had interested her from the first moment of her introduction. She did not think it necessary to add, that she had previously heard of his overflowing coffers.

That evening would have decided the fate of Caroline, had she not determined to stipulate for pin money. Though titles could not be introduced into America, she saw no reason why this excellent English custom should not be adopted; she therefore, after whispering the yielding state of her mind, begged him to wait for a more decisive answer, till she had written to her dear parents.

"I do not at present envy you any thing you are to
possess," said Fanny, quietly; "of all misery I can
imagine, the greatest is giving the hand without the
heart. But may I ask, are you going to purchase
diamonds ?"
"I purchase diamonds! Why, you dear innocent
soul, my father's whole income would not buy me a
pair of diamond ear-rings! No, Burrell desired that
he might furnish my bridal jewels; of course, they
will be diamonds. Mrs Ellison's are superb, but mine
will undoubtedly be more so; Burrell's income is much
larger than Ellison's. He has not made me a present
worth speaking of since we were engaged, and I have
no doubt he means to put all his strength into my
diamonds. I perceive you do not enter into my splen-
did prospects. I forgive you; it is human nature.
Never mind, Fanny; when I get settled, I will send
for you, and you will have much greater advantages
for making a match than I had." "I thank you; but
I am sure diamonds would not add to my happiness."
"You think so now, because you know nothing of their
importance in the world." "I hope I never shall
know." "You are deceiving yourself, if you suppose
all this indifference arises from principle. It is igno-
rance, pure ignorance."

At length Mr Burrell arrived; his equipage was splendid. He told Caroline, "her house wanted only its lovely mistress to render it complete." In the eyes of Horace and Fanny, he was any thing but attractive; but the one most interested, seemed perfectly satisfied. The wedding evening arrived, and still no jewels had been presented. Caroline arrayed herself in her bridal dress, and arranged her hair for the splendid tiara of diamonds, which was to far surpass Mrs Ellison's. Radiant in smiles, she descended to the parlour, to meet her lover tête-à-tête, before the hour appointed for the ceremony arrived. He was The next day Caroline dispatched a letter to her the most admiring, the most enraptured of men; and brother, full of ambiguities, but sufficient to alarm her thanking his fair mistress for her attention to his refriends. In a short time she received a letter in reply quest in permitting him to furnish her wedding jewels, from Horace. "There is one sentence in your letter placed a package in her hand. She only waited to left unfinished (said he), which fills me with appre- express her thanks, and flew to her room to examine hension. You say, "I am over head and ears in and adorn herself with her treasures. She found and then break off, as if unwilling to proceed. You Fanny quietly folding up her dresses and putting the cannot mean over head and ears in love, for you are apartment in order. "They have come! I have got no hypocrite; can it be in debt? If you have thought- them!" she exclaimed ; give me a pair of scissors, a lessly involved yourself in expense, do not let it have knife, any thing," and she began pulling upon the any influence in forming this connection. I promise knot with her slender fingers, and white teeth. At you that you shall be extricated from all embarrass-length the package was unfastened, and the little red ment, without its being known; I know that I have morocco case appeared before her; for a moment she more than sufficient for the purpose. Write to me hesitated, then hastily opened it; it fell from her hand, openly and fearlessly; it is not too late to retract." and she threw herself back, as if in the act of fainting, Such was the purport of the letter. Caroline shed Frances flew to assist her. "Stand off!" exclaimed a few natural tears as she folded it up. Horace had Caroline; "I want breath." The struggle was for a discovered one part of the truth; she was in debt, far moment doubtful, but happily a burst of tears relieved beyond her means to discharge. It was utterly im- her. It was long and violent, but at length her possible that she should dress in the style of Mrs Elli- words found utterance. "A wretch! a monster! an son, with her limited means, without running in debt. old superannuated fool! it is not too late yet," and she There were bills at the dressmakers, milliners, and began to tear off the orange blossoms from her glossy jewellers. Since her engagement, these were unim- ringlets. portant; they were all ready to wait till she returned Mrs Burrell. Her lover wished to accompany her home, but some remains of feeling prevented her accepting his offer. She was received by her family with unchanged affection. It had been a general agreement, that Benson should not visit there till after Caroline's marriage and departure. She was by that means saved from the mortification of meeting

him.

to

When Horace first communicated to him the purport of Caroline's letter, he received the intelligence with strong emotion; in a short time, however, he grew collected and calm. "There is more," said he, mortify my self-love in this affair, than my affection. I have felt almost from the first that we were neither of us satisfied with each other. Often have I sought refuge with Fanny, when wearied with the caprices of her sister, and I candidly acknowledge that I have sometimes wished my good genius had directed me to her in the first place.' "My dear fellow," said Horace, squeezing his hand, "let us drop this subject entirely; when Caroline goes to New York, you will

visit us as usual."

A new scene was now enacting in the quiet mansion of Mr Warner. He had made his daughter a present sufficient to amply furnish her wardrobe; beyond that was not in his power. Her apartment was crowded with silks, satins, shawls, and French flowers; not a chair nor a table but was loaded with articles of this nature. It was a season of triumph for Caroline; never before had she indulged the exuberance of her really elegant taste, not even on her late visit at New York, where her debts remained unpaid. Once or twice it occurred to her that she would reserve a few hundreds to discharge them; but when is vanity satisfied? There was still something more to purchase, and the whole was soon appropriated.

Frances looked on with a feeling of wonder and regret; there was much in the whole affair she could not comprehend. She felt impatient to behold the man who could rival Benson, and she once expressed the feeling to her sister. Caroline laughed scornfully; there was no hypocrisy in her character. Had this trait arisen from principle, it might have been a redeeming point; but it rather proceeded from want of feeling she could not comprehend that what was immaterial to her, would shock others.

:

"Do you really think, Fanny," said she, "that I am going to marry Burrell for his beauty or his talents? No, my sweet one, it is for his goods and chattels."

You are distracted," said her sister; "what does all this mean ?" "Look!" she exclaimed, spurning, with her white satin shoe, the case that lay on the carpet. Fanny picked it up; it contained a pair of pearl ear-rings and a pin, neither remarkable for their richness or beauty. "They are very pretty," said Fanny; "shall I put them into your ears ?" Another burst of tears followed. "You will render yourself unfit to be seen; and what will Mr Burrell think !" "I care not what he thinks." Violent passion soon relieves itself. Caroline began to reflect upon his house, his equipage, his fashion and wealth, and grew calmer; but with a tact for which she was remarkable, she determined to wear no ear-rings that evening. Composing her countenance, and again arranging her orange blossoms, she descended to the admiring bridegroom. "It is all in vain," said she, "to try; I cannot wear the ear-rings; I must have my ears prepared for them." Her flushed cheeks and swollen eyes bore testimony to the pain she had suffered in trying to force them through her ears. Her lover assured her she wanted no ornament in his eyes, and that he had never fancied ear-rings. "There is a style of dress, however," said Caroline, "that is consistent with one's rank in life. I hope I shall always dress in such a manner as to do you honour." "Sweet creature !" exclaimed the bridegroom, kissing her hand.

Caroline turned away with disgust, and sad misgivings came over her. In one hour the ceremony had passed, and bridal visitors began to throng. Perhaps, among them all, there was not one less happy than the beautiful bride; the two great objects for which she had as yet been toiling were still unaccomplished, pin money and diamonds.

express desire of the gentleman, who was much troubled
with an inflammation in his eyes. 66
Certainly, my
love, if you desire it," said he, but without making
any movement to assist her efforts. After some time
she accomplished her purpose, let down the shade and
the window, and, putting her head out, declared "it
was delightful to breathe the fresh air." "Oh, not
the window, my love," said Mr Burrell, gently draw-
ing her towards him, and pulling it up. "I cannot
permit you to endanger your precious health; the air
is very cold; you don't consider it is the third of No-
vember," and he wrapped his wadded silk coat round
"I am not the least afraid of taking cold," said
him.
she; "I must have it down. I shall die to ride so shut
up." "To be honest," replied he, "if you are not
afraid, I am." "Oh, that is quite another affair,"
said Caroline; "I suppose I have nothing to do but
obey."

It seemed as if the bridegroom thought the same, for in a few moments he said, "this light is insupportable," and he drew up the shade. "Good gracious!" exclaimed the bride, "am I to ride all day to-day shut up, as I was yesterday?" "Perhaps you will take a little nap, my love; I always sleep a great deal when I ride." "I am not so fortunate," returned she.

Every thing depends upon the carriage in which you travel. I had this built on purpose for my comfort." "So it seems," replied Caroline. "It is finished in the most thorough manner; it cost nearly three thousand dollars; my horses cost twenty-five hundred more; there is not, perhaps, a handsomer team in New York. You travelled in a very different style from this when you went on and returned last fall, and this spring." Very different," said Caroline, and she thought of the gay and animated party in the stage-coach, and the pleasant variety on board the steam-boat; and, notwithstanding the style in which she was travelling, heartily wished she could exchange

the mode.

"Pray try to get a little nap, my love; nothing shortens the way like sleep," and the bridegroom drew from one of the pockets of the carriage a travelling cap, took off his hat, put on the cap, and leant back. In a very short time he gave evident signs of being asleep. Nothing could have been less interesting to a young bride than her present contemplations. There is a relaxation of the muscles in sleep, by no means favourable to age; the falling under lip, the strongly marked lines of the countenance, the drooping corners of the mouth, the imminent risk of losing his balance, first on one side, then on the other; the danger, too, that Caroline's French hat incurred, by his sudden inclinations towards her; all this was not calculated to improve the already ruffled temper of the young lady.

"And I am to pass my life with this being!" thought she. "Were Benson in his place, how animated, how pleasant would be his conversation! After all, there is nothing like mind; nothing, at least, but wealth and fashion. Thank heaven! I have secured these, and these will command every thing. I wish this may be the last journey we shall take together."

Let us pass over the remainder of this odious journey, and behold Caroline in her new abode.

Her vain but penurious husband bought for herbut only as a loan-a brilliant set of diamonds, with which she appeared at one of her earliest evening parties. The evening was one of triumph; all the fashion and beauty of the city were congregated. Caroline saw her diamonds reflected from mirrors on every side, but still the thought obtruded, "they are not mine." Invitations poured in; she was the evening and morning star of fashion. "At length," she wrote to Horace, "I have accomplished my object; all the rank that one can obtain in this country, I possess ; I hold in my hand the keystone of the arch-Wealth and Fashion." Caroline, however, had too much intellect to be long blind to the degree of estimation in which she was held. She soon perceived that her husband was laughed at, and that she was pitied rather than envied. It was true she had all the outward signs of homage, but every thing about her was mockery. There is no tyranny like that of the weak. Burrell regarded her only as an appendage to himself; she found him selfish, ostentatious, and mean. In vain she strove to obtain the ultimatum of her desires, pin money. Like herself, he considered wealth power, and not a particle would he trust out of his hands; this was a source of constant altercation.

After the novelty of showing a handsome wife was over, Burrell began to feel the want of his bachelor habits; he liked whist-clubs and supper-parties better than soirées and pic-nics. The privation of his company was no annoyance to his wife; but when he no longer entered into her mode of visiting, or her amusements, he thought them unnecessary, and complained of so much useless expense. Every thing, in his view, was useless, except what contributed to his pleasure. Caroline had gone on accumulating debts, without looking forward to any payment. Those incurred before her marriage were still unsettled; the same trades-people were happy to supply her to any amount; and as a request for money always produced a scene, she acquired the constant habit of running up bills.

The next morning at ten, the equipage was at the door; the bride took leave of her family, and was handed into her carriage by the bridegroom; the coach, with its four bays and out-rider, disappeared, like Cinderella's equipage, and all at Mr Warner's returned to its usual state of domestic quiet. It is said by some sensible person, that we become more acquainted with people in three days' travel, than a year's stationary residence. The first day, the new married couple were very conversible. The bridegroom described his house and furniture, told how much he Where now were her brilliant prospects? She was gave for every article, and they rolled smoothly on. either alone, or in a crowded circle, or what was still The second day's conversation flagged a little. Caro-worse, along with Burrell. Among all the circle of line began to complain of being "shut up," said how tedious it was to journey, and at last proposed letting down the green shades, which had been closed at the

fashion, she possessed not one real friend. Mrs Ellison was as heartless as Caroline, without her talents. Often her thoughts reverted to her own home, the