concert. Clifford accordingly expressed his has acquired by pains and study, Edmund disapprobation to his wife, but Caroline was seems to possess by intuition. As for you, not to be easily deterred from her present my dear aunt, he seems more in danger of relaxation; she felt herself unjustly suspected falling in love with you than with me; he and persecuted; she knew that her husband's says you might very well pass for twenty opinions were not the result of his own spon-years younger than you are, and that your taneous feelings, but were suggested to him conversation furnishes a sufficient contradicby his mother; and the accusation of flirtation and levity she could not hear without a smile, for the very few gentlemen who at tended these parties were mostly the seniors of the master of the mansion, and one of them, who was about five-and-forty years of age, was considered as so decidedly on a different footing from the rest, that he was always styled, par excellence," the young gentleman." Mrs. Sedgewick also regularly called for her niece in the neat brown chariot, and brought her back in it at an early hour; and Caroline felt that no possible stretch of malice could Caroline and her husband having now each convert her into a Lady Townly or a Lady a source of complaint, began to indulge in Teazle. Reports, too, reached her from va- recrimination, a dangerous and inexcusable rious quarters, that her husband had commit- species of warfare. Cowper says

tion to the opinion that handsome women are generally frivolous; in fact, he once told me that, considering my aunt's great charms of mind and person, he wondered that I should have so moderate a share of beauty and wit myself; most people would have been very angry with him, but I love plain speaking; nothing is so delightful to me as truth; and Í know that all who speak truth will be glad to do justice to my aunt and cousin, even at the expense of a little superficial politeness to other people."

"The kindest and the happiest pair
May find occasion to forbear,
And something every day they livo
To pity, and perhaps forgive."

ted large sums of money to the management of Webster, whose speculative propensities began to be generally ridiculed and blamed, and Clifford could not deny this circumstance when taxed with it by his wife. In fact, Webster was an almost continual guest at Mrs. Clifford's, and the evenings were gene- If so, how much cautious forbearance rally spent in discussing some wild, vague ought an already unhappy couple to exercise plan of amassing wealth, which was received towards each other! Toften hear people in with eagerness by the infatuated Clifford. the various relations of life, say, in excuse Like many other people disappointed in bet- of their harsh expressions of blame towards ter pursuits, all his thoughts now seemed to another, "I do not asperse-I do not find rest on the accumulation of treasure: and fault for the sake of finding fault-I merely Webster himself could not look with more blame where there is real cause for reprecontempt than did his promising pupil on the hension." This is very likely to be true; interest of three and a half per cent. in the we are all of us fallible beings, and a day funds. Mrs. Clifford was delighted with never passes in which any one of our fellowWebster; she saw with the eyes of "dear creatures who looks at us with a scrutinizing Sophy Bennet," and those were not the par- anxiety to discover our deficiencies, may not tial eyes of love; for when Clifford hinted to find out something that we ought to have her the suspicions of Caroline, she protested done, or had better have left undone; but let with a sigh that no such feeling was in the the person exercising this ingenious inquisicase; she confessed that she had once felt a tion say occasionally, "Is it not likely that I partiality, it was needless to say when, and am also erring and faulty, and that the deto whom; she was ashamed of her own folly fects to which my vanity blinds me, may be in venturing to lift her hopes so high; that time distinctly visible to the eyes of another? had now passed, she should never love again, ought I not then make a little allowance for nor at any time could she have loved poor, the foibles of my brethren, and by so doing, plain, plodding Mr. Webster; but she must say win them to exercise a similar charity toshe esteemed and respected him as an excel-wards my own?" In this illustration, howevlent, well principled man; he seemed thor-er, let it be understood that I only allude to oughly well informed and shrewd in matters of the slight faults of temper and manner to business,and at the same time perfectly consci- which Cowper evidently means to refer. I entious; and one thing in particular she liked him for, he was quite a counterpart of herself in being a straightforward character, spoke everything he thought, and was seen through in a minute. These observations confirmed the prepossession of Clifford and his mother in favor of their new acquaintance; and Sophy was continually adding to the im- An event now occurred, which gave Caropression, by repeating to them remarks made line ample reason, in her own opinion, for exby Webster in their absence. "Mr. Webster pressing herself in the strongest terms of is quite astonished at Edmund's memory and displeasure against her husband's present quickness of comprehension," she would ob- imprudent line of conduct. Almost the only serve; "he says they would have been a former acquaintance of Caroline, with whom fortune to himself in early life, but all that he (Clifford and his mother felt satisfied she

disapprove all indulgence extended to that which is clearly and evidently wrong, all affected blindness to sin; but even in the case of the most flagrant errors, I am convinced that more good may be done by an occasional, calm, firm remonstrance, than by a daily succession of taunting and stinging remarks.

the ensuing day he was going to perform a much greater undertaking, he told them, since he then intended to deposit the amount of his daughter's future fortune at a banker's in the city, whose name he mentioned; her marriage, he added, was fixed to take place in six weeks.

When he had passed on, Webster expressed his sincere regret at what he had heard. "I do not like to seem officious," said he ; "in fact, the circumstance which I am going to hint to you is one of such exceeding delicacy, that I cannot bear the idea of having my name connected with it; but I have reason, from a peculiar and confidential source, to know that the house in which this poor old gentleman is about to lodge his five thousand pounds is on the point of stopping payment; indeed, so far from any probability of its safety for six weeks, I would not guarantee its continuance for six hours. I am a stranger to your friend, and should have felt awkward in interfering; but you will do a real act of charity if you call on him and persuade him to give you the money to deposit in the hands of your own banker, whose security is quite undoubted."

should preserve occasional intercourse, were | Webster, when they encountered Mr. Presan old couple by the name of Preston, with ton enjoying a stroll, which had actually exone daughter. They were both decided in- tended half a mile from his own house: on valids, and lived in a very quiet way on a very small income in a very little house; and their mode of living was what Gertrude and Emily Dornton called so stupid and so humdrum, that Caroline was the only one of the family who took any pleasure in their society. She, however, loved and esteemed the daughter, Mary Preston, whose moderate capacity and excessive timidity did not conceal from Caroline her possession of great sweetness of temper and amiability of disposition. She was the child of her parents' old age, was doated on by them, and in return devoted herself entirely to their comfort; and it was the general opinion of her young friends, that " Mary Preston would be certain to die an old maid." Strange events, however, sometimes happen in affairs of love: the gentle, quiet, unobtrusive Mary Preston, became introduced to Lucas, the eldest son of a man of large landed property, and had the honor of immediately captivating that heart, which beauties and dashers had often assailed in vain. The poor girl accepted the offer with feelings of the utmost gratitude; her parents, who imagined that no lot in life could be too high a reward for the good qualities of Mary, were equally pleased, although not so surprised: but Mr. Lucas, the father of the lover, withheld his consent; he had heard exaggerated accounts of the poverty and humble way of living of Mary's parents, and, like most people who can give a good deal to a son, he recoiled from the idea of receiving a daughterin-law with nothing. If, indeed," he said, "the girl's father could give her five thousand pounds, he might not refuse his consent; but of course that was quite out of the question, and the matter had better be put an end to at once."

Clifford, who was really touched with pity for poor Mr. Preston, called on him the next day, mentioned the rumor he had heard, without naming the quarter from whence it it came, and received his grateful thanks, and the temporary guardianship of the five thou sand pounds; that sum, however, never reached the hands of Clifford's banker, for Webster earnestly requested to have the use of it for a month, for a particular purpose, which involved no risk, but would be a great convenience to himself, and promised to place it in the hands of the banker at least a fortnight before Mr. Preston would require it. When Mr. Lucas mentioned the sum of Clifford could entertain no suspicion of one five thousand pounds, he had as little idea in whose honor his mother and himself had that Mary's father could raise it, as the no- so implicitly confided, and had not a doubt bleman in the old ballad of "The Beggar of that his promise would be fulfilled at the apBethnal Green" had cause to surmise that the pointed time. Several weeks elapsed; it was beggar could drop coin for coin with him, but the bright, glorious month of July; Caroline both proved equally wrong in their calcula- thought herself fortunate that no plan of gotions. Mr. Preston was not a poor man, al- ing to Richmond had been started, but she though ill-health, indolence, and long habit, was languid and low spirited. Sir James had occasioned him to live in a homely man- and Lady Bradbury were at Wimbledon ner; and when Lucas mentioned to him his Common, where the former possessed a house, father's unexpected concession, the old peo- and Mr.s Dornton and her daughters had been ple consulted together, and found that, with-fortunate enough to procure an invitation to out any inconvenience to themselves, it would stay a month with a friend, who was passing be in their power to spare the sum in ques- the summer at Hastings. Caroline's own tion to their daughter. Mr. Lucas was very maid, about this time, imparted to her a sesorry that he had not said ten thousand cret, which she had gained from a young wopounds instead of five, but he was too much a man of her acquaintance, who lived opposite man of honor to draw back from his word. to Mrs. Clifford, in Keppel Street. Miss BenPreparations, therefore, were begun for the net, this person alleged, was in the frequent marriage, and an estate in the country was to practice of stealing out from her aunt's house be settled on Mary, as an equivalent for the in the evening, aud holding private conferfive thousand pounds which were to be trans-ences with Mr. Webster at the corner of the ferred to her husband. street. Caroline justly thought that this One unfortunate morning Clifford was mysterious intercourse with a person whom walking with his now inseparable friend Sophy had such constant opportunities of

seeing in the society of her friends, signified "But surely," said Caroline, " under these something highly suspicious and objectiona- circumstances, it is the duty of my husband ble: she mentioned the fact to Clifford, but to advance the money, and to claim from it was received by him with expressions of Webster repayment to himself." utter disbelief, coupled with a sarcasm on her "Alas!" replied Mary, "I greatly fear it own love of slander, which could even in- is not in his power to do so. I deeply regret duce her to tamper with gossiping servants, to tell you that it is generally believed Webfor the sake of aspersing the fame of one ster has been allowed the perfect command of who never spoke of her except in terms of the property of Mr. Clifford and his mother, the kindest affection. The uniformity of and that they have nothing now which they Caroline's life was at length most painfully can independently call their own. Another broken by a visit from the gentle Mary Pres- thing, too, has greatly irritated the Lucases: ton, in tears and sorrow. It appeared that Mr. Clifford informed my father that he knew when the settlement was ready, her portion from the best authority, Mr. 's bank was had been required by her husband's father. going to fail; they have inquired in various Clifford was referred to: the money was not quarters in the city, and find that its security at his banker's: he applied immediately to is unsuspected, and that nothing has occurred Webster, who frankly declared that he could which could give the least foundation for not at present disentangle it from the concern such a roport. Mr. Lucas says he is conin which he had placed it. "And the most vinced we are all in a plan, and that his son distressing circumstance," pursued the weep- was on the point of connecting himself with ing Mary, "is, that the elder Mr. Lucas ac- a complete nest of swindlers." cuses my dear father of fraud and deception, and declares that he never from the first believed he could command such a sum."

(To be continued.)

MORNING WITH THE INDIANS.

COME go with me into the boundless woods;
If but in thought, in thought still go with me;
Light be your heart, elastic be your tread;
A spirit that happy home makes everywhere:
And like the practised Indians, be your ear
Quick, for the rattlesnake is in the grass
Silent, nor may to-day warn our approach.

My Indian guide is ready-rather say-
Sage wanderer of these venerable wilds,
My friend and my companion; for in him
Nature, mysterious in her workings, wrought
Ere he had made acquaintance with our race
Civilized, civilization of more worth
Than we can boast of-a fidelity

That has outlived all tests: and I am taught
Daily, my life is precious in his sight,

And in his heart is precious.

Scarcely moving,

The henhawk with vast wings broods o'er the woods.

Few grow the stars and faint: and soon the sun

Over the orient mountains will exhibit

His orbit large. Come, Huron, let us on!

Now pleasantly conversing on we move,
Through mazes thick of ever-changing shades,
League after league: and Huron much inquires
About the grand traditions of our race;

And of the Bible, "as the wondrous book

With leaves of light, and characters of flame,
And by a golden chain let down from heaven!"
For so yas it described to him, by one,

A sage old Indian.

In his turn he tells,

Turning to earliest times, and legends old,
"How the Great Spirit for their wickedness
Let loose upon them creatures of vast size:

How with his voice rending the hills in twain,

He called, and forth the dreadful monsters came

Huge mammoths. Strong, and deadly in their strength, These on the people, made destructive war.

But the Good Spirit grew compassionate,

For of the red men but a few were left,
He, with his thunder, smiting the destroyers,
Spared only two which he once more enclosed
Deep in the bosom of the giant hills,
Again to be let loose when Indian crimes
Aloud should call for such dread chastisement."

Touched by the Indian, quick I turn, and see,
Near me, upon the lake, a large canoe,
In which are people of his tribe preparing
For the fleet chase: for see, a wounded elk,
Down-rushing from the steep has plunged, and now
Swims for his life. The Indians are alert,
Some thread the thicket, some the vessel guide:
All is commotion, quick, yet noiseless all:
And, lo! already on the opposing shore-
Like red-bronzed statues stand the Indians tall,
Touched by the sunrise; forms august, sublime !
Fit sight for Phidias! never saw the Greek
More noble vision, when with godlike touch
He to dull marble gave the charms of life.

Where now is Huron? I am left alone:
Gone from me like an arrow in the chase.
Whilst with a lightning-winged activity
The hunter-chiefs are busied. I am rooted
Unto the earth; by wonder fixed, to gaze;
Bound by the chains of custom, that are strong,
And by the fetters of long silken sloth:
For silken threads can bind like adamant.
-See, now the chase is distant! fierce the strife;
A whoop!-the noble animal is slain,

O blessed people! nurtured at the breast
Of regal nature-deemed uncivilised!
Brave, forest-born, fleet hunters of the wild!
Happy, in that ye little know of arts,
The curse of populous cities; and of cares
By nice distinctions bred; and solitude,
The weary loneliness of buildings vast,
Which ye, mid natural objects never feel.
The hollow intercourse, the duties dull,
The one unvaried round, the specious wiles,
And all the cold formalities of life!

Pure dreamy bliss of fond attentive youth! Wondering, the tale my father told, I heard,

been exposed to private malice, public ca] price, or the frowns of an adverse fortune; for I take upon myself to say, that she who, being obliged to mix in dangerous society, escapes its contamination, deserves far more credit than that maiden lady who was never moved by passion, or encountered the Proteus-Vice!

"For is the laurel to the soldier due,

Who, cautious, comes not into danger's view?
What worth has virtue, by desire untried,
Where nature's self enlists on duty's side?"

The histrionic is the most varied and uncertain-the most difficult and unjustly censured-of all the professions or pursuits to which women of mind devote their talent for daily bread: for I think I may boldly assert, that the eye of prejudice and malice is constantly fixed upon "the actress," and the tongue of slander ever ready to defame her. She is forced to dress her face in smiles at the moment when, perhaps, the pang of disappointment-nay, the worm of diseasemay be preying upon her heart. Then the labor-the mental drudgery of an actress. Ah! gentle reader, when you are gazing with delight upon some accomplished fair one who has the skill to identify herself with those beautiful creations of our immortal bard-a Rosalind or a Beatrice-an Ophelia or a Juliet-you little think of the laborious study to which, for days, weeks, nay, years, she has devoted herself, in order to attain that grace, ease, and pathos, by which public approbation is won. And then the misery of having to study the unmeaning verbiage of some of our modern translating would-be-au