as-children are here-even babies are brought by their confiding mothers (loud cheers), and conduct themselves with that propriety which befits this excellent establishment (laughter). One honourable member, from the sound of his voice somewhere about the ripe age of six months, has repeatedly cheered, and always in right places (laughter); he cordially approves of the principle and spirit of this meeting.

the Continent what was most worthy of observation in
this country, he had directed his attention to the indus-
try, and intelligence, and firmness of purpose, displayed
by our working population (cheers). Get into conversa-
tion with our operatives at the loom, or our labourers at
the plough, and you will discover in them an extent of
information, a power of reasoning, and force of character,
which I am proud to think you will not find, to the same
extent, in any other country in Europe. I quite agree
with what has been so eloquently stated and so well
reasoned by my learned friend near me (Mr Simpson), as
to the necessity for every one to labour. In this respect
the rich are often the most unfortunate (hear). Look at
a man with five or six thousand a-year. He cannot sit
down on his estate to vegetate like one of his own trees,
or to be watered and manured like one of his farmers'
turnips (laughter). No; he must find employment, and
accordingly he meets a number of other gentlemen who
have as little to do as himself, and gets upon a horse's
back, often in cold frosty mornings, at four, five, or six
o'clock, to run after some unfortunate fox who has no
choice in the matter (laughter). He then gallops over
hedges and ditches, and exposes himself to broken legs
or other accidents, thus performing an amount of labour
which would be considered a severe sentence to be pro-
nounced on any one in a court of justice, and all because
he has the misfortune to have nothing to do, and is
obliged to seek out work for himself (cheers and laughter).
His lordship then alluded to yachting as another practice
resorted to by the rich from the same cause. The Italian
nobleman, he continued, is in a still more unfortunate
position. He has none of these manly sports to give
employment to his leisure hours, and healthful exercise
to his body, but wastes his time in looking at his paint-
ings, or building and altering his palaces, and is sur-
rounded by a set of people all as miserable as himself
(cheers). His lordship concluded by proposing, as a
sentiment, "Freedom of conscience," which he begged
leave to couple with the name of the Rev. Mr Bennie.
The sentiment was received amid loud cheers.

he had detained them too long on a subject so deeply interesting to himself, and concluded by again thanking them, in the name of his brothers and himself, for the manner in which their humble labours had been noticed. In the course of the evening a plentiful repast of strawberries and cream was served up to the company, and several excellent songs were sung by Mrs Bushe, who was present as a guest, and others. Mr Spindler's band was in attendance, and at intervals regaled the company with some admirable instrumental music. Excellent addresses were also delivered by Lord Cuninghame and Dr Murray, and the meeting broke up about half-past eleven o'clock, highly delighted with the manner in which the evening had been passed.

A MARRIED MAN'S REVERIE.

BY JOHN INMAN, AN AMERICAN AUTHOR.

A meeting like this involves and evolves deep principles. It proves the practical value of the maxim that benevolence is power. The control which the Messrs Chambers exercise in their great establishment, is the unresisted, because irresistible, control of justice and kindness. Throughout the year all is peace and good-will in the works, and here annually masters and men meet to renew their truly Christian, as well as commercially wise, compact, and part with hearts yet warmer, and resolutions yet firmer, for another trial (loud applause). Another principle made manifest here is the practicability, demonWHAT a blockhead my brother Tom is, not to marry! strated by the result, of elevating the character of the working man, or rather of his elevating his own; and in or rather, perhaps, I should say, what a blockhead not his practical exhibition of improved intellect and morals, to marry some twenty-five years ago, for I suppose of his taking rank where these qualities should and must he'd hardly get any decent sort of a body to take him place him---among gentlemen. All that is worthy, really as old as he is now. Poor fellow! what a forlorn gentlemanlike, in the classes above him, will meet and hail him more than half way. Why do the higher classes desolate kind of a life he leads; no wife to take care shrink from contact with the humbler, as these yet too of him-no children to love him-no domestic enjoygenerally are? The reason is obvious; they cannot meet ment-nothing snug and comfortable in his arrangein fellowship with drunkenness, filth, coarseness, and bruments at home-nice sociable dinners—pleasant faces tality. That they will hold out a cordial right hand to real respectability, let this meeting, and the distinguished at breakfast. By the way, what the deuce is the men around me who grace it, tell. One other principle reason my breakfast does not come up? I've been evolved by a meeting like this, I will mention. All this waiting for it this half hour. Oh, I forgot; my wife respectability-all this moral elevation-all this intelsent the cook to market to get some trash or other lectual and moral rank-all this fitness for fellowship for Dick's cold. She coddles that boy to death. But, with the true aristocracy---for these qualities constitute after all, I ought not to find fault with Tom for not the only real aristocracy in its essential character-is getting a wife, for he has lent me a good deal of money consistent with the duties and regulated toils of lathat came quite convenient, and I suppose my young bour. It is with working men we are at this interesting ones will have all he's worth when he dies, poor fellow ! moment in company-men who do a fair honest day's work; and who have daily proof of that further moral They'll want it, I'm afraid; for although my business Mr Bennie rose to reply, and was received with loud does very well, this housekeeping eats up the profits discovery, that labour is neither an evil nor a degrada- applause. After some preliminary observations, and an tion, except in its excess, for then it is both. Regulated eloquent vindication of liberty, civil and religious, which, many mouths have I to feed every day? There's my with such a large family as mine. Let me see; how labour is a divine dispensation-a blessing-for 'it is he said, should be universally prevalent, with the excep- wife and her two sisters-that's three; and the four by the blessing of God that man goeth forth to his labour tion of such restraint as wisdom places on bad men, the until the evening.' The same authority says, All reverend gentleman proceeded to address himself to the boys-seven; and Lucy, and Sarah, and Jane, and things are full of labour.' The Creator has given us a sentiment which had been proposed. Freedom of con- Louisa, four more-eleven; then there's the cook and faculty for labour, the exercise of which is delightful to us, science, particularly in religious matters, is the right of the housemaid, and the boy-fourteen ; and the woman and he has at the same time arranged material creation, every individual. Persecution, which springs from the that comes every day to wash and do odd jobs about so that labour is necessary to turn it to our advantage. spirit of selfishness, has been too prevalent in the world; the house-fifteen; then there's the nursery-maidThis, too, calls forth our energies. Man,' says Channing, and he rejoiced that men were becoming more alive to sixteen; surely there must be another I'm sure I 'would have been a poor creature, had nature yielded him the true dignity and majesty of their nature. Using a made it out seventeen when I was reckoning up last every thing spontaneously. See the schoolboy escaping bold and striking image, Mr Bennie spoke of men "per- Sunday morning at church; there must be another from his hitherto repulsive books, and begging admittance secuted into fame and chased up to heaven! No man somewhere; let me see again; wife, wife's sisters, boys, to the carpenter's shop-happy if allowed to handle his has a right to dietate what I shall believe, or how I shall girls-oh, it's myself! Faith, I have so many to think tools. How many gentlemen are voluntary workmen !-interpret this or that passage of Scripture; and he who of and provide for, that I forget myself half the time. how many men of rank! The late Lord Traquair was accepts his opinions from another is a miserable slave." an enthusiastic cutler, and was delighted if you brought We regret that we have not room to give even an outline feed every day is no joke! and, some how or other, they Yes, that makes it-seventeen. Seventeen people to him a pair of old razors to put in order (laughter). Lord of the reverend gentleman's eloquent speech, which was Douglas was a bookbinder. Crowned heads not less concluded amid loud and long-continued cheering. all have most furious appetites; but then, bless their were labourers. George III. was a turner; Leopold of Mr Simpson said there were two brothers present who hearts, it's pleasant to see them eat. What a havoc Austria a clock-maker; and Louis XVI. a lock-maker. were employed in a sphere of usefulness not less impor- they do make with the buck-wheat cakes of a morning, Our muscles, our health, require labour; for exercise is tant than that of the two who presided on this occasion to be sure! Now, poor Tom knows nothing of all labour. We must all labour-with head if not withhe alluded to Mr Frederick and Mr Arthur Hill. The this. There he lives all alone by himself in a boardhands; and my two distinguished friends near me (Lords exertions of the former in reforming the discipline in our ing-house, with nobody near him that cares a brass Murray and Cuninghame), who laboured at the bar, and prisons were well known, while the latter was at the head farthing whether he lives or dies. No affectionate now labour on the bench, must ride or walk, or work with of one of the most important educational seminaries in wife to nurse him and coddle him up when he's sick their hands, to preserve their health. Labour, moreover, the country. Mr S. then referred to the splendid triumph no little prattlers about him to keep him in a good is no degradation. It is a gothie absurdity to look upon of Mr Rowland Hill, their brother, in reforming the post-humour-no dawning intellects, whose developement it in that light. A high degree of intellectual and moral office, and concluded by proposing their health, which he can amuse himself with watching day after dayworth a high refinement of character-is compatible was hailed with all the honours. with manual labour. Such a labourer, spite his hard and nobody to study his wishes, and keep all his comforts horny hands, is fit company for the first gentlemen in the ready. Confound it, hasn't that woman got back from land. Let us not forget that St Paul laboured with his the market yet? I feel remarkably hungry. I don't hands. Channing is right when he talks of the dignity of mind the boys being coddled and messed if my wife labour. The real degradation is sloth and idleness. It likes it, but there's no joke in having the breakfast is to this that the friends of that education which forms kept back for an hour. Oh, by the way, I must reand elevates character would bring the working man. We member to buy all those things for the children to-day. are called visionaries, theorists, by the education obstrucChristmas is close at hand, and my wife has made out tors of the old school. Let them look at our practice. Would a list of the presents she means to put in their stockthat certain prelates were here; and would honestly say ings. More expense-and their school-bills coming whether they have ever produced, or can produce, a scene in too; I remember before I was married I used to like this. Nay, more, I would invite them to follow these think what a delight it would be to educate the young men to their homes-see their happy families, their books, their domestic amusements, their quiet religious rogues myself; but a man with a large family has no duties, their general respectability, prudence, and usetime for that sort of amusement. I wonder how fulness-and compare such a base for the pyramid of old my young Tem is; let me see, when does his social order and safety, with that which an ignorant and birthday come?-next month, as I'm a Christian; brutal mob has long presented to the despairing philanand then he will be fourteen. Boys of fourteen conthropist (chcers). We who desire to see an universal syssider themselves all but men now-a-days, and Tom tem of such instruction, can say to our obstructors, "These is quite of that mind, I see. Nothing will suit his are our fruits, where are yours? Shall we find them in exquisite feet but Wellington boots, at thirty shilreligious contentions, hatred, and intolerance?-in empty lings a-pair; and his mother has been throwing out churches, and full jails, hospitals, and workhouses?-in hints for some time as to the propriety of getting a pauperism and pestilence?-in that mass of ignorance watch for him-gold, of course. Silver was quite good and cruelty, vice and crime, which poisons the passing enough for me when I was half a score years older gale in our cities, and pollutes the moral atmosphere of than he is, but times are awfully changed since my our land? Will you bring these fruits of your husbandry -rather these rank weeds of your neglect and, placing younger days. Then, I believe, the young villain has them on a rival altar, hope that God will have respect learned to play billiards; and three or four times unto your offering!" (loud cheers). Turn we from such a lately, when he has come in late at night, his clothes contemplation again to the scene before us, and when seemed to be strongly perfumed with cigar smoke. we reflect on the vast extent of good that flows from the Heigho! fathers have many troubles, and I can't help labours of these very workmen-on the triumph of steampress and stereotype which they all lend a cheerful hand thinking sometimes that old bachelors are not such wonderful fools after all. They go to their pillows at to achieve on their twenty-four thousand sheets every night with no cares on their minds to keep them day of the year-one thousand every hour-which go forth like a thousand wings, bearing healing abroad, and awake; and, when they have once got asleep, nothing scattering it over the world-well may we repeat the house being on fire can reach their peaceful condition. comes to disturb their repose-nothing short of the sentiment with which I set out, and couple it with health and prosperity to the Messrs Chambers and No getting up in the cold to walk up and down the their workmen.'" The sentiment was received with loud room for an hour or two with a squalling young varlet, and long continued applause.

The chairman proposed the healths of Lord Murray and Lord Cuninghame. Received with great applause. Lord Murray returned thanks.-He felt great pleasure on being present at a meeting composed chiefly of working men. On being asked once by a friend from

Mr F. Hill replied in an interesting speech. He had at least the merit of disinterestedness in attending the present meeting, as the Messrs Chambers were employed in striking the ground from under his own feet (laughter). He then referred to the interest which he had often seen prisoners take in reading their Journal, and related instances in which they had expressed that interest, and hoped that it might be the means of preventing others from falling into crime (hear, hear). With respect to his brother, Mr Rowland Hill, he said that his plan for cheapening the postage had been long discussed in the family, and, although they were all convinced of its practicability, the author of the scheme had yet been utterly hopeless of its ever being carried into effect. The rapid progress which the question had made on its being first brought forward, ought to be an encouragement to all who may have similar projects in view for benefiting society, but who may despair of ever seeing them realised (loud cheers). Mr Hill said he perfectly agreed with the sentiments which had been so eloquently expressed that evening respecting the importance of labour, and related various anecdotes to show how much it was valued by the prisoners under the improved system of prison discipline which had been introduced. One boy confined in jail, having obtained permission to work as long as he pleased, had sat up all night. In Glasgow, a lady had asked permission to visit the prisoners in the Bridewell, and on being shown through a number of the cells, where criminals were at work, she repeated her request that she might be allowed to see some of the prisoners. On being told that she had already seen them, she expressed her surprise. She thought she had been shown some part credit the statement that the individuals she had seen of the establishment used as a factory, and could hardly so actively, and seemingly happily, at work were persons undergoing punishment. In the Glasgow Bridewell an experiment had been introduced which he hoped would be productive of much good. After performing a certain amount of work, the prisoners were allowed to work on their own account. The articles thus produced were fairly valued, and the prisoners credited with the amount. the money thus acquired was laid out at interest. Habits In order, too, to give them some idea of savings banks, as my luck has been for the last five or six weeks. collected which enabled them to clothe themselves reof industry were in this way formed, and a small stock spectably on leaving the prison, and gave them a chance of recovering their position in society (cheers). He feared

It's an astonishing thing to perceive what a passion our little Louisa exhibits for crying; so sure as the clock strikes three, she begins, and there's no getting her quiet again until she has fairly exhausted the strength of her lungs with good straightforward

;

232

screaming. I can't for the life of me understand why
villains don't get through all their squalling
the
young
and roaring in the day-time, when I am out of the
way. Then, again, what a delightful pleasure it is to
be routed out of one's first nap, and sent off post-haste
for the doctor, as I was on Monday night, when my
wife thought Sarah had got the croup, and frightened
me half out of my wits with her lamentations and
fidgets. By the way, there's the doctor's bill to be
paid soon; his collector always pays me a visit just
before Christmas. Brother Tom has no doctors to
fee, and that certainly is a great comfort. Bless my
soul, how the time slips away! Past nine o'clock,
and no breakfast yet; wife messing with Dick, and
getting the three girls and their two brothers ready
for school. Nobody thinks of me, starving here all
this time. What the plague has become of my news-
paper, I wonder?-that young rascal Tom has carried
it off, I dare say, to read in the school, when he ought
to be poring over his books. He's a great torment,
that boy. But no matter; there's a great deal of
pleasure in married life, and if some vexations and
troubles do come with its delights, grumbling won't
take them away; nevertheless, brother Tom, I'm not
very certain but that you have done quite as wisely
as I, after all.-From a newspaper; original place of
publication unknown.

FLOWERS.

Plants may be multiplied in many ways, by budding, grafting, inarching, by layers, pipings, and cuttings, by suckers, the division of roots and tubers, and by seed; and there are very few species from which by some of these methods an increase cannot be obtained. So easy, indeed, is the multiplication of plants, and so large a number of new plants can, with proper management, be raised from one original stock in the course of a year, that the nursery gardeners find it impossible (excepting in rare instances) to maintain a high price for a new flower beyond two or three years; the first year the price of a new flower may be L.5, the second it will be about 30s., the third year not more than 2s. 6d. The method applicable to the greatest number of plants, and which is successful with ordinary management, is that of cuttings: from the parent plant small slips or cuttings are taken where the wood is not very tender, and, if practicable, at a joint. The cuttings should be planted about two inches apart, in large pots or boxes, and the pots placed in a moderately warm hot-bed, shaded from the sun. In about a fortnight they will strike root, and begin to grow. They should then be gradually hardened, be put as far as practicable into separate pots, and removed into the flue-pit, where plenty of air must be given them in the day-time to prevent their damping off, and a fire be lit before frosty nights; the additional security of mats, thrown over the frames, must be used when the weather is unusually severe. The time of removing the plants from their winter quarter, must depend upon their nature, and the climate in which they are to grow. The last week in May, or the first in June, is the earliest time at which the tenderest will bear a thorough exposure; for one or two previous weeks they should be hardened by gradual exposure to the wind and cold nights, care being taken to protect them with mats if either should be in excess. The cultivation of dahlias is commenced in the second or third week in February, when the roots which have been taken up in the autumn should be put into a hot-bed, kept, as far as practicable, at a uniform heat of 62 degrees to 65 degrees; a little of the earth in the bed should be spread over them, and water liberally given them once a-day. The roots will then push out suckers, one from each eye; these should be separated from the bulb; a few fibres of the old root being torn off with them, and being treated after the manner of cuttings, will strike and be ready to plant out at the end of May. It is a fault with gardeners, generally, that their dahlias flower too late. The first flowers are seldom perfect, and it often happens that the plants have not long reached their prime before they are either pinched by cold nights, or perhaps altogether destroyed by frost. It is, therefore, desirable that the plants should never be checked in the early stages by want of heat or otherwise. Perennial herbaceous plants may be easily multiplied by dividing the roots either in the autumn or in spring. Annuals are principally raised from seed sown in April and May, either upon a hot-bed, from which they must be transplanted, or in the situation in which they are to grow. Sweet peas and mignonette, nemophylla insignis, poppies, &c. are very shy of being transplanted, unless from pots. Mallows, choriopsis, China and German asters, French and African marigolds, eutoca viscida, nolana prostrata, &c. will be better raised on a hot-bed. New annuals are continually produced: we do not, however, consider them generally as a desirable class of flowers. There are two methods of arranging flowers with a view to their display-1st, putting each species in a separate bed; 2d, mixing two or more species in one bed. Each has its merits, and in every garden both should be practised. When flower-beds situated close to each other are to be filled with one species only, it will be requisite to consider the height and colour of the flowers to be planted, that both symmetry and harmony may be preserved. Yellow flowers, especially among those that grow from six inches to two feet in height, are more numerous than flowers of any one other colour, and care must be taken not to plant them in undue proportion. When several species are to be planted in the same bed, the largest bed must be chosen, the tallest species be placed in the middle, and various colours mixed together; sufficient space should be left for each plant to grow freely, without interfering with or confusing its branches with those that are next to it. Flowers for the most part like a rich, light, new soil. The spot chosen for a flower-garden should be dry, open to the sun, and sheltered from wind and cold.---Penny Cyclopædia.

TORONTO.

VERSES

Written by a Father on a beloved Daughter, Helen-familiarly called by him "Elly Pye"-who died 23d May 1839.

I saw her in her infant day,

the personal friends of the candidate formed a species of rifle brigade, picking out the enemy's officers, and doing Toronto, though exhibiting little to bear out its presore damage to their tactics, by shooting a proposer, or tensions either as a city or a capital, and still less to justify the metropolitan airs which the elite of its denizens wounding a seconder-a considerable portion of every the duels he might, could, would, should, or ought to assume, is a place bearing (unlike Kingston) the appear-leading agent's fee being intended as compensation for ance of having been much improved within these last in the olden time; and when it is taken into considerafew years; but it as yet possesses only one good street, fight, during the election. Such, in brief, was a contest which runs east and west, and this is in some parts adthat a considerable military force was always engaged vantageously set off with an array of well-filled shops tion that it usually lasted a fortnight or three weeks, and stores. At the western extremity of such street, on opposite sides of the road, stands a sort of overgrown (for our Irish law permits this), and which, when nothing party-coloured cottage, dignified by the name of "Go- pressing was doing, was regularly assailed by both parvernment House," and a neat assemblage of red brick ties-that far more dependence was placed in a bludgeon buildings, comprising the schoolhouse and private dwell- than a pistol-and that the man who registered a vote without a cracked pate was regarded as a kind of natural ings appertaining to "Upper Canada College," of whose history I shall hereafter speak. Between the Govern- phenomenon-some faint idea may be formed how much ment House and the bay, an unseemly mass of brick- such a scene must have contributed to the peace of the work, encasing the legislative chambers and various of country, and the happiness and welfare of all concerned the public offices, rears its head; while, a mile beyond in it.-Dublin University Magazine. this again, is an ill-constructed stockade sort of fort, with an incommodious barrack within its circuit. Eastward, Toronto's chief edifices are a church, a bank, a town hall (having behind it a market place), and, lastly, a sessions house and jail, besides a second prison house in progress of construction, to signify the moral improvement of the people. This end of the town is much eschewed as vulgar by the high order of patricians; whose abodes, consisting in many cases of good-sized, substantial, though isolated houses, are for the most part situated in the three opposite directions. Of these, the Yongestreet Road, running north, is decidedly the most eligible locality; and a few miles out it exhibits some very pretty scenery. Nevertheless, the city of Toronto will not bear mentioning in the same breath with either of the American towns Rochester or Buffalo (both, I believe, of later origin), though I am aware that, in tasteless, not to say a rebel in disguise, by the majority making this assertion, I incur the risk of being thought of those amongst whom I have been so lately dwelling; since they would consider as derogating from their city's dignity the mere institution of any comparison. Speaking generally, however, of contrasts between Canadian and American objects indicative of relative progressive improvement, I lament to add my humble testimony to that of many other visiters to both countries, that the comparison is immeasurably in favour of the states; and the fact is rendered strikingly apparent to the unbiassed observer, not simply by his passing through the states on his way to Canada, but by his residing in the latter country for a lengthened period, then traversing the neighbouring states, and afterwards returning to the British territory.-Preston's Visit to Canada.

ANECDOTES OF ALLIGATORS.

The following singular fact in natural history, appears
in a work called "Recollections of a Three Years' Service
in Colombia, by an officer of the Colombian Navy:"_
"There were hundreds of my old acquaintances, the alli-
gators, who were usually to be seen lying on the top of
the water with their mouths wide open, ever and anon
closing them with a horrible crash upon some luckless
fish, which the force of the current had conveyed into
them. In the course of the voyage, I had an opportunity
of ascertaining a fact concerning these creatures, which
I do not recollect to have observed in the natural history
of them. The Indians told me that, previously to their
going in search of prey, they always swallow a stone, that,
by the additional weight of it, they may be enabled to
dive with the greater celerity, and drag whatever they
may seize under the water with them with ease. They
have been frequently known, on this river, where they
are exceedingly large and rapacious, to draw men and
horses out of sight. Not giving implicit credit to this
statement of the Indians, I determined to ascertain if it
were true, and mentioned my intention to his excellency,
who assured me the Indians were correct; and for the
sake of amusement, consented to shoot some to convince
me. The only parts where they are vulnerable to musket-
shot are on the dirty white part of the skin along the
chest and abdomen, and in a space of about three inches
in breadth behind each ear. The former can seldom be
aimed at, and we therefore tried at the latter. Bolivar,
whose aim was certain, shot at and killed several with a
rifle, in all of which, when opened, were found stones
varying in weight according to the size of the animal.
The largest killed was about seventeen feet in length,
and had within him a stone weighing about sixty or
seventy pounds. The Indians, whose occupation obliged
them to be always on the river, or close to its banks, said
that they have frequently observed the young ones, in
the morning, swallowing small stones at the side, under
the shelter of the wood, before they searched for their
victims, and depositing them at night in a place of safety."

AN IRISH ELECTION IN FORMER DAYS.

In the goodly days I speak of, a country contest was a very different thing indeed from the tame and insipid farce that now passes under that name. In the times I refer to, the voters were some thousands in number, and the adverse parties took the field, far less dependent for success upon previous pledge or promise made them, than upon the actual stratagem of the day. Each went forth, like a general to battle, surrounded by a numerous and well-chosen staff; one party of. friends, acting as commissariat, attended to the victualling of the voters, that they obtained a due, or rather undue, allowance of liquor, and came properly drunk to the poll; others again broke into skirmishing parties, and scattered over the country, cut off the enemy's supplies, breaking down their post-chaises, upsetting their jaunting cars, stealing their poll-books, and kidnapping their agents. Then there were secret service people bribing the enemy, and enticing them to desert; and, lastly, there was a species of sapper and miner force, who invented false documents, denied the identity of the opposite party's people, and, when hard pushed, provided persons who took bribes from the enemy, and gave evidence afterwards on a petition. Amid all these encounters of wit and ingenuity,

Whilst on a mother's lap she lay;
Her smile was heaven-her opening eye
Reflected deep the azure sky;

A happy, happy father I,

For oh! how sweet my "Elly Pye."

I saw her in her girlhood sporting,
To glen and woodland oft resorting;
The flowers to cull, the notes to hear
Of sooty blackbird, whistling near,
To chase the wavering butterfly,
With nimble foot-my "Elly Pye."
I saw her in her teens array'd;
Not now a girl-not yet a maid;
A girlish form, a maiden mind-
The all but woman, all refined.
Such once the form that met mine eye,
And such the soul of "Elly Pye."
I saw her in her twentieth year,
Accomplish'd, lovely, and sincere ;
A full-blown rose in bower of bliss-→→
A father's hope, his paradise;
My heart was light when she was by-
My dear, bewitching "Elly Pye."
Her years had number'd twenty-one ;
Her bloom was fled-her spirits gone-
Her eye was sunken, sadly clear-

And dull was now her startled ear;
Her hope was with her God on high,
Her heart was mine-my "Elly Pye."
"The hour of my departure's come,
I hear the voice that calls me home;
I leave the world without a tear,
Save for the friends I hold so dear,"
She whisper'd low, with deadening eye,
And kissed, and died-my" Elly Pye."
I saw her breathe her latest breath,
(And, oh! how beautiful in death!)
The passions still-the combat o'er-
And pain and sorrow now no more.
I could not weep, I could not sigh,
But groan'd aloud, "My Elly Pye."
I saw the coffin borne along,
Amidst the motley, griefless throng;

I thought my heart would burst in twain

I scarce can feel the like again,

Till in the grave I come to lie,
With my own darling " Elly Pye."
One year has pass'd, and still my heart
Feels all its love and all its smart;
There's not a glen, a wood, or wild,
That has not seen me weep my child-
That has not heard my wailing cry,
"Oh, where is now my Elly Pye!"
One year, one circling little year,
Has pass'd, yet Helen still is dear-
Dear as when last she blest my love,
And talked of meeting yet above;
Yes, we shall meet again on high,
My early-sainted "Elly Pye."
St Andrews.

T. G.

RECIPE FOR PREVENTING SEA SICKNESS. Notwithstanding the sea had lulled, it blew a stiff breeze still, and the Crusader rolled and tossed upon the huge toppling waves of the Atlantic in such a way that I was again sick; but, having some little experience of what genuine sea sickness really is since crossing the Bay of Biscay, I managed to avoid much of the unpleasantness I then suffered, principally by the following means, which I would strongly recommend to all landsmen. If you feel sickish, or know by experience that you will be sick, go to bed, close your eyes, and remain lying on your back, if possible, without motion; abstain from food, but not altogether; I would rather say, eat sparingly, and of some solid, such as a little broiled meat, or biscuit, as I have known most alarming effects arise from "total abstinence," to say nothing of the violent straining and fruitless retching it occasions. Drink sparingly of cold water, or brandy and water in sips, but taste no hot liquid of any kind. In keeping the eyes shut, I would remark, that the effect of vision and its sympathy with the stomach are not enough attended to; for though at rest in the berth, the swinging backwards and forwards, and motion of the vessel and things around, are often sufficient to produce what we wish to avoid. There is, however, one point at which emesis becomes inevitableit is when the mouth fills with saliva, and then the sooner it takes place the better.-Wilde's Narrative.

LONDON: Published, with permission of the proprietors, by W.S. ORR, Paternoster Row; and sold by all booksellers and newsmen.-Printed by Bradbury and Evans, Whitefriars. publishers or their agents; also, any odd numbers to complete Complete sets of the Journal are always to be had from the sets. Persons requiring their volumes bound along with titlepages and contents, have only to give them into the hands of any bookseller, with orders to that effect.

CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, EDITORS OF "CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE,"

its breaking yet submitting heart, at length pass beyond your mere sight, which is familiar with them, and enter the soul within, and let the consequence of the lesson be mercy and patience. Farewell." The angel then vanished, and the old man, before advancing another step, took the load from his horse, and allowed it to feed for ten minutes upon the thistles by the wayside; after which it prosecuted its journey with renewed spirit, and he did not once lay his lash upon it during the remainder of the journey.

The Angel of Patience does not now come in a bodily form upon the earth; but the world abounds as much as ever with lessons resembling those which she used to read to mankind. The sentimental grievances of the great and rich may yet be assuaged, if the great and rich will only think upon the many severer evils which others are every moment bearing, and bearing, perhaps, with magnanimity and resignation. The evils which befall every station of life may softened, if we only reflect on the worse afflictions of the next lower sphere. It is not that we can

-"hold a fire in our hand,

By thinking on the frosty Caucasus,"

be

that every member of it can supply himself with food tions in the shape of produce and services. The perfrom the land that is next him, and there is no com- sons (and, until lately, the lives) of his serfs are entirely petition for one portion of the soil in preference to at his disposal. If he possess a carriage, he will easily another, there can be no such thing as rent. It is get it driven, for he can command the services of the true that the government of the country, or persons peasantry and their cattle in any part of the kingdom. who happen to be possessed of authority in some form Thus powerful in his own neighbourhood, and even or other over their neighbours, may exact from them rich, for he has the fruits of the soil almost indefinitely a consideration for the use of the land, as they may at his command, he is a beggar elsewhere, for he their shoulders. Any thing, however, that can be soil of East Lothian probably brings as much money for the privilege of remaining with their heads on has no money. Five acres of the comparatively poor exacted by force, and is not given in virtue of a com- rent as could be got for a fruitful district in Hungary. mercial compact, cannot be termed rent. It is some- A very long time, however, has not elapsed since Scotthing given, not because the giver gets value, but land was in the same position. The potent Cameron because he is under compulsion, and the mildest term of Locheil, who headed eight hundred of his own to be used towards it is that of a tax. When the tenants on the field, and the population of whose terriincreases that lands which would have been previously drew no more than L.500 a-year in rent. Had it not population, however, of the country in question so far tory must therefore have amounted to some thousands, rejected as worthless are cultivated, rent begins to been for our spirit of enterprise, for our shipping, exist in favour of those who happen to be possessed canals, steam-engines, and spinning-jennies, the rich of the use of the better soils. These more unfruitful aristocracy of Britain would have been like that of portions no one would cultivate, unless he could gain Hungary, or at most no richer perhaps than the nobisomething by doing so. Whenever the produce of the lity of Russia, who, because they trade in produce more fruitful soils ceases to be sufficient to feed the po- (hemp and tallow) to this country, are a degree pulation, or rather when the population finds the supply higher in the scale of wealth. It is thus that a cirfrom that quarter so limited that it will pay some- cumstance, which to many has appeared mysterious, thing for a little more food, the time has come when the is easily accounted for-that while the riches of our holder of the inferior land may cultivate it. But what merchants and manufacturers have so rapidly increased does the holder of the more fruitful soil do in the that what was formerly affluence is now insignificance mean time? He who cultivates the poorer land, must or poverty, the landed aristocracy, too, have advanced demand a correspondingly increased price for the in riches, in a ratio not disproportionate, and are able produce, and the possessor of the fruitful tracts, to retain a portion, if not the whole, of their ancient and obtain the same return. The former, then, is a mere the pressure of population in large towns has made a coming into the market along with him, will demand importance in society. In some cases, indeed, where labourer, getting a remuneration for the toil of pro- few square feet in a particular position more valuable ducing food; the latter is getting something beyond than acres elsewhere, the fortunes made by proprie the price of his labour, and that something is rent, tors have been princely, and, we believe, far beyond himself, and so to earn both the remuneration for cleared. It is, then, our having obtained and kept the whether he choose to remain the cultivator of the land what individuals connected with trade have ever tilling it and its value as a monopoly, or find it more start of the rest of mankind in commerce and manuagreeable to enjoy the latter in indolence, leaving the factures, that makes our aristocracy the richest in the former to some tenant, who is not so fortunate as to world. If circumstances should arise to deprive us of POPULAR INFORMATION ON POLITICAL have the means of living without labour. As popu- these advantages, it will be on the owners of the soil lation presses, and less promising lands are cultivated, that the evil will press with most permanent and unthe rent of the more fruitful lands-those first em- mitigated force. The capitalist can remove his comployed-will proportionably increase, and there will modity with comparative ease; the labourer even, be various intermediate grades of rent; the amount though with more difficulty, can generally escape in price of cultivating the most arid soil that is used by of what it can fetch in the deserted market. being in each case precisely the difference between the the end; but the land must remain, to take its chance the community, and that of cultivating the portion for which the rent in question is paid. It must always be kept in view that it is not the mere circumstance of cultivating poor lands, but the pressure that occasions their being had recourse to, that causes the rent to exist. Of the existence of that pressure, however, the resort to poorer lands is the proper indication, while it is likewise the measure of the extent to which it operates.

but that an example of patience may be drawn from the well-borne sufferings of others. Nor is there any class of society so sunk to the bottom of wretchedness, but such an example may still be found even for them, for, rightly considered, the miseries and sacrifices which animals are so largely called upon to endure on man's account, and which they generally endure with so perfect a patience, are calculated to soften and bring

down to submission the most obdurate hearts.

ECONOMY.

SIXTH ARTICLE.-RENT.

THE inquiry-in what consists that value for which rent is paid? may at first sight appear an idle one. What is primarily apparent is, that land and houses are objects of use and desire, and therefore people will pay for them as they do for other things possessed of these qualities. It very soon becomes apparent, however, that there is a wide distinction between the manner in which land becomes valuable and that in which other commodities are made so; and that the knowledge of this distinction is of very great practical importance in the conduct of human affairs. As an instance of this importance, we may simply note, to arrest the reader's attention, the example of taxation. Whether a tax acts as a direct pressure on the individual, cramping his employment of capital and labour by increasing the impost with the production, or puts the tax-gatherer in the position of a mere fellow-sharer of property, is a question of undoubtedly vast importance. That there is a great distinction between the manner in which the surface of the earth becomes valuable, and that in which other things are so, is so evident, that it scarce needs illustration. Every one must have observed, that, of other commodities, the supply bears something like a proportion to the demand. Shoes and coats are only brought into existence because they are wanted. There may, it is true, be a miscalculation, and a greater number may be produced than that required, but the intention not to exceed the demand is urged by so many motives of self-interest, that they generally bear a pretty near proportion to each other. Coats and shoes, therefore, never make their appearance but when they are wanted, and are worth money; and when this takes place, they are always forthcoming. There are millions of acres of land, however, of the most fruitful and productive nature, that nobody wants, and that are worth nothing; while, on the other hand, there are spots where the most arid soil is of enormous value, as a mere portion of the surface of the earth. Under the subject of labour, it was stated that there were only two means by which an article could por ess value in exchange; first, that it should have bee produced by means of labour; second, that it should be an article limited in its supply-in other wo ds, that it should be a monopoly, for every thing of which the supply is limited will find an owner. The greatest instance of monopoly (the term is intended to be used in an explanatory, not an invidious sense) was said to be land. Let us now explain, as distinctly as we can, the manner in which it thus Decomes valuable. Dr James Anderson was the first to throw light on the process. He supposed the land of a country to be divided into different portions, of various fertility. While the population is so small

The deductions from the above doctrine, are of the
very first practical consequence to the welfare of society.
The most important consideration connected with
them, perhaps, is the extent to which the existence of
rent is shown to depend on commerce and manufac-
tures. It is not the production and consumption of
an abundant supply of the fruits of the earth that
creates rent, but a pressure of the population on the
amount produced, whatever it may be. There may
be thousands of acres yielding a munificent harvest,
yet it is not until the pressure upon that produce
causes recourse to be had to a less fruitful acre of soil,
that ront is as it were spread over those districts, the
into use. The outlay that may be necessary to make
superior fruitfulness of which has brought them first
this additional acre produce the same quantity of
grain as the more fruitful acres have done, may not be
above £1, but the necessity of having recourse to
the spending of that pound, may bring into existence
who are so fortunate as to find themselves proprietors
thousands of pounds per annum of revenue to those
of the fruitful soils. Now, it is commerce and manu-
factures that are the temptation to men so to congre-
gate together as to create this pressure on the produce
of the soil. Were there no such inducements to dense
population, it would be the interest of every one to
locate himself in the spot where he found most room
to grow the food necessary for his subsistence. Were
there no commerce, indeed-no interchange of com-
modities-there would be no other means of securing
a subsistence. If one man should grow more corn
than he wanted, where would any other find money
to buy it with? In these circumstances, if popula-
tion increased, the more fortunate among the people
would be raising their bushel of corn with little labour
in the fruitful districts, while others would be ex-
tracting it with a greater amount of labour from a
market in which the produce of the rich and that of
less salubrious soil. There would here be no common
the poor soil could meet, and be sold at the same price,
the difference between the cost of raising the two
going into some one's pocket in the shape of rent. In
such a case there might be exactions of any conceivable
kind by the lord from his slaves; he might, through
force, or by the simple officacy of their habits of obe-
dience and dependence, exact their service, their grain,

or their lives but rent, or a commercial consideration
for the use of his lands, he would not have.

The present position of Hungary corresponds pretty
closely with this hypothetical case. The landowner
(if he whose interest is more in the individuals that
grow upon the land than the soil itself, should be so
named) is very absolute; he has multitudes of exac-

It is another important deduction from the above theory, that rent, instead of being a factitious creation for the advantage of a particular class of men, is a thing inherent in the nature of land when placed in a certain position, and cannot be got rid of. Rent cannot be extinguished, and any attempt to annihilate it. would only have the effect of making it change hands. While a quarter of grain can be raised a shilling cheaper in one acre than another, the former will bring rent to somebody. If the government should compel the person who cultivates the fruitful lands to sell his grain at a proportional rate less than what the tiller of more sterile spots requires for his remuneration, the result would be that one producer would be selling grain cheaper than another, and that the cheap commodity would be bought up and retailed, the retailer standing in the position of the landlord, and drawing his "rent" for when brought to a common market, commodities always find a level in price. Nay, were it practicable (as undoubtedly it is not) to prohibit every one from buying more corn than what is necessary for his own consumption, those who are cultivators of the fertile lands, would reap the profit so fortunate as to obtain the cheap grain sold by the which the landlord would have obtained had the market been free, as, from paying less for their food, they would have a proportionably larger sum to spend on other commodities. Thus, if A, having the good luck get it at 40s. a-quarter, while B must resort to the to purchase his corn from a cultivator of fruitful land, produce of the more barren soil, which cannot be afforded under 60s., A gains 20s., which, though he may never see the soil by which he profits, is equiva lent to his receiving that sum in the form of rent. All this can only exist, on the presumption that the density and wealth of the population cause a resort to inferior lands. If by an infringement of the rights of property, or any other instance of bad legislation, this resort is discontinued, then, indeed, rent may cease to exist.

The theory of rent throws, as we have already hinted, an important light on the pressure of taxation. Suppose a fixed tax on land to have existed from time immemorial, or so early that there is no one alive who can say that his income or his expectations have been made less by it than they were before, that tax presses on no one; it is as if the receiver of the tax were a joint proprietor. If the tax should continue to increase at the same ratio with the rent-for instance, if it should always form a tenth part of itthe same will be the case. The landlord pays nothing, for that part of the rent which is tax he never enjoyed; he could no more look to it as his own, than he could to the rent of his neighbour's estate. If his own rent increases, it is by circumstances over which he has no control-by the industry of his neighbours and the increase of population; and it cannot affect him, that there is in the receiver of the tax a fellow-proprictor who profits in the same ratio. Nay, if the whole increase of rent went in the form of a tax, the result would be the same. The proprietor would just be as if there were no increase of wealth or population

about him, and as if the good fortune attending these circumstances had accrued to the state and not to him. Let the tax, however, be, not upon the rent, but upon the produce; it then changes its nature from what might be called a joint proprietorship on the part of the state, to a pressure on enterprise and energy, which, like all other taxes so directed, must impede to a certain extent the progress of wealth and improvement. The effect of such a tax will be best viewed by considering it as paid by a tenant. So long as that tenant employs the lowest practicable amount of capital in his farm, so long as he attempts to rear only the most cheaply raised produce which will enable him to live and pay his rent, the tax is a deduction from the rent, and is precisely similar to such an impost as that above quoted. If, however, the farmer wish to raise a more expensive erop-a crop in which the capital laid out bears a larger proportion to the amount of the rent-he feels that the more he lays out, the more tax he pays, and so there is an impediment in the way of his improving the soil. The landlord will not take less rent because the farmer wishes to employ more capital. The more capital, however, he employs, the more produce he rears, and consequently, having to give a proportion of it away, the more he pays in taxes.

TRY AND TRUST.
A STORY, BY MRS HALE.+

"DEAR, dear Henry! how glad I am to see you. Oh,
you cannot tell how weary the hours seem when you
are gone!" exclaimed Mrs Harrison, as she ran with
extended hands to welcome her husband's entrance.
He fondly returned the caress of his young and lovely
wife, while she continued to speak of her joy at seeing
him, and of her lonely feelings during his absence.

"Do you think, Ellen, that I would leave you, if it were not absolutely necessary?" inquired he, soothingly. "Can you believe I would stay thus long from you by design?"

"Oh! no, no-I do not think you would; and yet it does sometimes appear strange that you can stay so long from me; and in the evening, too. I am sure that no business could detain me thus from you." "Not if it were necessary to secure my happiness, Ellen ?" "I cannot understand how that would be secured by a course which was rendering you miserable." He smiled sadly as he replied, "If our home were in Eden, my love, where our only occupation would be tending flowers and gathering fruits, on which we could banquet the year round, then we might consult our present feelings only, giving all cares for the future to the winds. But we do not live in Eden."

"And therefore must be miserable. Is that what you wish me to understand?”

"No, no; we need not be miserable because we do not dwell in Paradise; but we shall be disappointed, if we expect to find its perfect bliss in our cold, barren world. We are too apt to forget that life, for fallen man, has no real, lasting, virtuous enjoyments, which are not earned by toil, or obtained by self-sacrifice of some sort. Every pleasure has its price. I could not enjoy this happiness of folding you to my heart, and feeling that you are my own, and that you are so provided with comforts as not to regret that you have united your lot with mine for ever, if I did not practise the self-denial of leaving you, to pursue the business and studies of my profession many hours each day. Can you understand this ?"

The young wife looked up to her husband, and the tear that moistened her soft, blue eye, added the lustre of feeling to a glance of love that sunk into his soul. He knew that he was comprehended, was absolved. He had never told her of the difficulties with which he had to struggle; accustomed, as she had been from her birth, to every luxury and indulgence that wealth could command, he had thought that the details of anxieties, labours, and disappointments, which those who are born poor must encounter in the stern strife of their worldly career, would sound too harshly, would make her unhappy. He could not bear to see the shadow of a cloud upon her brow. He dreaded, more than any worldly evil, that she should feel the pressure of care. His whole soul had been engrossed, since the first certainty that she would be his wife, with devis ing the means of supporting her in that style which he fancied was absolutely necessary to her happiness. Men seldom form romantic ideas of "love in a cottage," if they have had to struggle with the realities of poverty. Not that Henry Harrison was an avaricious, or even a worldly man; he did not covet riches for himself; he was not ambitious of show or parade; but he did tremble lest his young wife should endure one privation-lest even the winds of heaven should visit her too roughly.

The union of Henry Harrison and Ellen Wise was truly a love marriage; romance and adventure had marked their love from the beginning, and it seemed hardly probable that their married life would run on in the calm canal-like current of common events. At least they fancied that some peculiar bliss was and would continue to be theirs, because their first meet

It has to be observed, that we here speak of pure rent, as above Cefined-not of the increase to his returns which the proprietor may obtain by outlay on his property.

↑ From The Token, an American annual for 1838.

ing had been so strange, and, in their estimation, so
fortunate.

selected was the senior of Ellen by some thirty years or more, which time had not all been passed in improving It happened that Henry Harrison, in the summer his mind or morals. In short, though not exactly an infamous man, he had been so long hackneyed in fashionof 1818, made a pedestrian tour from New York to Canada. He had just completed his study of the law; able follies---that delicate phrase to soften the vices of and, before entering on the duties of his laborious the rich--that he was as heartless as Chesterfield would profession in the "commercial emporium," determined have made his son, had his principles of politeness been fully acted on. And Mr Kerney, the bridegroom-elect of that he would see a little of the great world, and, to Ellen, had a head which could have computed, as shrewdly make the most of the opportunity, that the greatest as the noble lord himself, the worldly benefit of those natural wonder in the world should be among the "principles." He had calculated closely the benefits to objects of his tour. So he made Niagara the chief be derived from an union with Ellen Wise. He supposed point of his movements. He visited it as he went, her father to be a man of handsome property, though not and on his homeward journey. And while on the among the nabobs of wealth. Ellen was an only child; Table Rock he minuted in his journal, that " his heart her father had offered to enter into a written agreement was so filled with awe and admiration for the sublime that all his estates should descend to Ellen at his decease, spectacle before him, that it would be impossible for a thereby cutting off the possibility of a second marriage (he was a widower), or at least the alienation of his prelong long time to admit any other sentiment !" That afternoon, he received a letter from a parti-perty from his daughter. Then, she was lovely; and cular friend of his in Troy, urging him to visit him at though Mr Kerney was not in love with her, in the holy sense of the term, yet he felt that she was a prize which his house on his way home. The wardrobe of Henry it would give him triumph to obtain. Then she was was, in the first instance, only graduated to his trayoung, and he could mould and govern her as he chose. velling convenience on foot, and it had borne the And so the affair had been settled between the father wear and tear of four weeks' travel; its soiled and and the old beau bachelor. But Providence had not sancdilapidated condition, therefore, was reason good for tioned the treaty. promptly deciding to refuse the invitation. But that night he had a dream-a vision, as he always called it. He thought he saw a lady of majestic presence and serene countenance approach him. In her right hand she held a veiled picture, which she advanced towards him, with a smile of sweetness that filled his soul with rapture. He strove to raise himself, that he might lift the veil and examine the picture'; but the stately lady motioned him to desist, and, at the same time, addressing him in a sweet but deeply impressive tone of voice, said, "Go, visit your friend, and the veil shall be raised."

Henry awoke in some perturbation; and, though of course he did not acknowledge to himself, nor do we pretend that the dream influenced his conduct, yet so it happened, that before he had finished his breakfast, he had decided on visiting his friend at Troy.

Nothing particular occurred, however, during the day he passed in that city, and he was obliged to leave it early the succeeding one. But his friend insisted, that he should, before setting out on his pilgrimage home, take a stroll with him to the top of Mount Ida, then a very celebrated spot in the estimation of all lovers of the picturesque in that neighbourhood. The spirit of improvement is now passing in triumph over the domain of romance, and has already laid low the pride of the mountain; but when our hero, at early day, ascended the height, and saw the wide amphitheatre of green hills displayed around, gently sloping downwards, till they melted, as it were, into the rich vale, where rose the clustered dwellings of the city, each house made beautiful by the thought that it was the home of some happy family--for to a wanderer every home seems a place of rest and happiness---his heart rejoiced in the sight. The first rays of the morning sun were illuming the earth. The broad bright Hudson in the distance shone like a line of flashing diamonds as its ripples caught the sunbeams. But the eastern sky was the object that most rivetted Henry's gaze. There is something exalting to the spirit in watching from a mountain top the rising of the sun. Only the blue firmament seems to intervene between the spectator and heaven, from which the clear light of the new day appears to issue, like a stream from

an inexhaustible fountain.

As the two friends were about descending the hill, they observed a carriage approaching. Just as it reached the top of the height, the horses became frightened by the sudden flight of a hawk, which had been scared by their approach from its perch on the stump of a blasted tree, that inclined over the road. It dashed directly in the face of the horses. The startled animals reared high, and then plunged forward so suddenly, that the driver was precipitated from his seat, and the carriage, forced against a projecting rock, was overturned and broken. But even this catastrophe did not effectually check the furious horses, and they seemed on the point of dragging the shattered vehicle over the precipice into the deep channel of rocks, where the mountain stream is seen rushing and throwing up its spray, as if chafed with rage at its confinement in that ravine. But at this critical mo ment, Harrison dashed forward at the peril of his own life, seized the reins, and with his strong grasp forced the horses' heads against a large tree which grew on the brink of the ledge. Here he held them fast, till the two persons contained in the carriage were liberated by his friend, when, his strength being exhausted, they burst from him, and plunged down the bank.

The persons thus saved from, as it seemed, certain death, were the Honourable Mr Wise of Philadelphia, and his daughter. The young lady, who had uttered no cry of terror, looked on her father and fainted, when she saw the horses take their fatal plunge over the precipice. He was slightly injured, and so much overcome, that Henry's friend had to support him; therefore none but Henry remained to succour the lady. He raised her up, and, as her head reclined on his arm, he gazed on her face, the loveliest he had ever seen. His dream now flashed upon his mind, and his willing fancy gave it the force of prophecy. "Yes," he mentally murmured; yes, she is destined to be mine!" He looked again in her face, and his heart affirmed the decree, "She shall be mine!" And that consummation he never doubted, though he could not then anticipate a very speedy union. The progress of the acquaintance we will pass over. It was not, to the lovers, a halcyon period. Mr Wise had held high offices, which conferred the title of Honourable on him, but the soul of honour had never been infused into his bosom. He was ambitious and ostentatious, and had resolved that his daughter should connect herself in marriage with a man whose wealth and family placed him in the first rank of fashion. The gentleman he had

66

Mr Wise and his daughter remained about two weeks at New York before proceeding to Philadelphia, and Harrison improved the time to confirm, in the heart of Ellen, the tender impression which his gallant daring had made. And she promised to be his, if her father consented. She had never been apprised of the intended alliance with Mr Kerney, as she was only eighteen, and just out of her boarding-school.

"You had better not communicate the arrangement to Ellen till she is under your roof and control," said Mr Kerney to his intended father-in-law. "The young ladies at school will rally her, and may induce her to dislike me, merely because you approve the match."

Mr Wise acquiesced; and though, during his tour with his daughter, he had thrown out sundry hints about matrimony, and the advantages it conferred on a young lady to become the bride of a rich and fashionable man, yet she had never applied one precept of this worldly wisdom to her own case. And so little did she understand the real character of her father, that she fancied the only objection he would make to the application of Henry for her hand, would be her youth, and the impossibility of parting with his only child. For was net Henry a lawyer, one of her father's own profession? And had not Henry saved the life of her father and of herself? And had not her father wealth sufficient for them both? Henry had told her that he had no fortune but his education and his own energies; and would not he, when he had always been so kind and indulgent, even lavish, in gratifying every want and wish of his daughter, be willing to make a small sacrifice, if it were a sacrifice to him that she should wed a poor man, when he had learned that her happiness, and the happiness of the man who had saved her life, were concerned? Oh, she knew he would consent!

But she was totally mistaken. She knew not the spirit of worldly men. She knew not how every gentle, generous feeling in the human breast may be blasted by selfishness, as the vegetation of the fairest spring may be withered by the scorching simoom of the desert.

Mr Wise was not satisfied with giving a positive and irrevocable refusal to the lover's modest request of permission to hope that he might, if he proved himself worthy, be accepted; but he insulted Henry with bitter sarcasms on the folly of a young débutant in a profession which required such a length of time for success, presuming to fall in love with, and raising his pretensions to, a lady of wealth, when he had not a dollar of his own. How the blood of the young man boiled in his veins at these taunts! But, for the daughter's sake, he suppressed his wrath against the father. As Aaron's rod, becoming a scrpent, swallowed the other serpent-rods, so the feeling of love, when raised to a passion, frequently absorbs all others; and when it does this, it cannot easily be

overcome.

The lovers were separated, but not till they had pledged their troth to each other; and, though Ellen would give Henry no promise to marry him till her father should consent to the union, yet she led him to hope that that consent would be gained. So they parted; and, as he was not in a situation to support a wife, perhaps the trial which her love was about to undergo was not without its secret satisfaction to him. He triumphed in the thought that her affection would be stimulated by these obstacles; his own, he felt, would be unchangeable. The letters which passed between them during the succeeding half year, were to both a source of interse interest and happiness. He gathered from hers, that, although surrounded by all the luxuries of wealth and blandishments of fashion, she was still his own Ellen, counting one letter of love from his hand more precious, a thousand-fold, than all the gay pleasures of which she was rather a spectator than a participant. And she learned that his business was increasing, his hopes of success brightening, and his heart and purpose animated with the energy which a virtuous love inspires. His noble sentiments and just reasoning opened to her mind a world of new and profound thought; and, in her turn, she imparted, by her pure feelings and brilliant fancies, a light to his path, and that delicate perception of the good and beautiful in nature and character, which refined his tastes, chastened his passions, and exalted his aims to be worthy of the innocent, ingenuous, and lovely being, who was thus resting her hopes of earthly felicity on his truth and honour.

Mr Wise, in the mean time, was managing with his deftest skill to bring about the marriage of his daughter with Mr Kerney. Ellen was resolute in her refusal to admit him as a lover; yet she was so influenced by her desire to promote her father's happiness, that she treated his friend, as she always called Mr Kerney, with becom ing respect; and Mr Wise would not believe it possible that she would forego the advantages of wealth and sta