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The beauty of her cousin-the "evil-looking and evil-spoken" lady to whom you have taken so strong a dislike--was at that time remarkable; Anne cursed her own deformity the more bitterly, and nourished her misanthropy with a deeper determination, whenever she gazed upon the joyaunt countenance and the glad and bounding gracefulness of the fair creature whose very kindness seemed to be the result of pity rather than of affection. confess the truth, this did not merely seem to be the case, for Emily Green knew of no earthly advantages which she could for an instant put into competition with wealth and beauty; and she well knew that "poor dear Anne," as she habitually called her, was to the full as destitute of wealth as of beauty. She pitied her, therefore, rather than loved her; and the condescending style in which she always spoke of her or to her, left not the slightest doubt that the wealthy beauty was very comfortably indifferent as to the feelings which her manner and her words might excite in the bosom of the plain and penniless dependant.

To say that the orphan deeply felt the contemptuous treatment she received at the hands of the more highly endowed Emily, would be to speak far too faintly. It seared her heart and maddened her brain; it possessed her; it gave her up wholly and for ever to the dark demons of envy, hatred, and revenge. And she had her revenge-a fearful one! But I must not anticipate.

If the orphan felt dislike to her cousin Emily, it was with a widely different feeling that she looked upon Emily's only brother, Edward. In childhood she followed him as a shadow; in more advanced years she gazed upon him in passionate but unspoken love. Her large dark lustrous eyes, which, beautiful as they were, derived an added beauty from their singular and striking contrast to the rest of her features, were rarely and only stealthily turned toward him-but oh! with what an earnest and living light did they then gaze! His tones were to her a surpassing music, his presence a rapture; she loved him with an intense and undivided love, and her glance brightened, and her fierté of tone became at once softened and mellowed, whenever she had occasion to address him.

Thus passed on years: and Edward Green, having completed his terms at college, and travelled as much as he thought desirable, settled himself at "the Hall" to soothe the growing infirmities of his father, whose life was now fast falling into "the sere and yellow leaf.”

The arrival of "Mr. Edward" at "the Hall," to depart from it no more, delighted all the abiders there, even to the meanest of the most menial servants; for his frank and liberal habits, and his singular beauty, made him a favourite with all. But to no one, I ween, did his arrival give such a rapturous delight as to his orphan cousin. During his absence she had suffered much from the petulant, and occasionally even insolent, temper of

Emily; and her suffering had been doubly poignant from her lack of the accustomed counterpoise of Edward's kindly manners and speech. It was therefore with a wild and yet a disguised delight that she found herself once more cheered, soothed, and blessed, with his perpetual presence.

'Women make a slight mistake in supposing that they can conceal from their intimates the love which they really and fervently feel. Fancy, caprice, a slight preference, or an incipient love, they may disguise; nay, I make no doubt that they can do so without any very great or very painful effort. But lovethe entire and passionate love which alone is deserving of the name was never yet the inhabitant of woman's heart but its evidence beamed in her eyes and trembled in her tones; and I am not quite sure that the evidence is not all the more obvious to a skilful and industrious observer the more painfully the efforts to conceal it are made.

Now, Mr. Green was both a skilful and an industrious observer; and the love which his niece supposed to lie deeply and impenetrably hidden in the recesses of her own heart was not a whit more hidden from him than the sun's rays at noon. Το nearly any other man than himself either anger or scorn would have been suggested by the discovery that his penniless and plain niece dared to look in love, even though it was an unspoken love, upon his son, born to vast wealth and radiant in the very perfection of manly beauty. But Mr. Green was, psychologically, different from most other men. Though-as we have seen in the case of his utter abandonment of his sister, for no greater cause than that she married to the liking of the principal person concerned to wit, herself-he could be guilty of injustice in his own proper person, he yet was by no means an admirer of injustice when committed by others. And he had been, though a silent, yet by no means an unmoved spectator of the hauteur with which his daughter bestowed her "pitying frown upon her poorer and plainer cousin. He did not like his daughter's manifestation of an unamiable temper, and that was enough,—his usual mode of gnashing the teeth of his mind when he was determinately fixed upon the performance of any extraordinary piece of self-will. 66 Why should I suffer this?" he asked-and the question was a very proper and reasonable one. But he did not act upon his determination not to suffer it in the most reasonable manner possible.

The only reasonable plan would have been for the old gentleman to have settled a handsome slice of his fortune upon the poor girl,' interrupted George. It would so,' resumed his friend, but the old gentleman contented himself for the time by making his will. It would have been well for all parties if he had never done so. But he did-and the will was scarcely made ere Mr. Green was gathered to his fathers. I ought to have

observed to you that no portion of Mr. Green's property was entailed. From his father he had received comparatively little, and with his wife still less. But during the war mercantile gains were immense, and Mr. Green was a bold and sagacious speculator. His gains were enormous; and as he felt himself to be the architect of his own fortune, so he determined to bequeath it as he himself chose.

The will was read, and, to the inexpressible mortification of his children, he left the sister wholly dependant upon the brother. To the latter he left his whole fortune, on condition that he should marry his cousin within ten days after she should have completed her twenty-second birth-day; failing that condition— whether by the refusal of either party or the death of the ladythe whole of Mr. Green's property was to be bestowed in certain portions upon certain charities, only excepting one hundred pounds per annum to each of his children. To each of those children this eccentric will gave pretty nearly equal annoyance— but they each displayed it differently. Emily changed her formerly insolent manner for one of equally remarkable sycophaney -while her brother, who had ever behaved kindly to his cousin, now assumed a sternness of manner towards her, and busied himself in seeking some means by which to set aside his father's will. That, however, he found to be utterly impossible. The details, to the minutest technicality, had been skilfully cared for-and poor Edward acknowledged, with a sigh, that he had no alternative but beggary or an ill-assorted marriage. As the day for his decision, upon which so much depended, drew near, the conversations between himself and his sister were frequent. She well knew his generosity, and knew, therefore, that her interest would be safe if he saved the property by compliance with the will. And hence it was that she now fawned upon her cousin, and endeavoured to show her brother that he might marry worse if he had his own unfettered choice. "And besides," said Emily, in one of these conversations, "Anne is evidently much attached to you-and I do really think that your manner towards her has been such as to confirm her attachment, by leading her to believe in yours."

My attachment! And to her! Mort de ma vie! As if a man cannot show some kindness to a pauper cousin without straightway falling in love with her round shoulders, beetle brow, and inimitably bandy legs! However, needs must when the devil drives, so I shall e'en marry the amiable deformity at the latest day allowed by the will-and separate from her on the earliest possible day afterwards.” Before Emily could reply to this speech, so much in accordance with her own feelings, a heavy fall in the adjoining room reminded them that they had been separated only by half shut folding doors from the unfortunate girl of whom they had been talking, forgetful, in their eager

speech, that she was likely to overhear them. On hastening to her they found that she had fallen senseless to the ground-in that terrible syncope which the utter prostration of the heart so rarely fails to produce,

'Alarmed lest what she had overheard should cause Anne to inflict him with reproaches as well as with her inevitable self, Edward received her, when she was again able to leave her room, with the utmost show of sorrow for the past, and with most eloquent falsity of promise as regarded the future; and, though she wept long and bitterly ere she accorded to him the forgiveness he so strongly and hypocritically solicited, she at length did accord it. Up to the very eve of the bridal all went well; and it was with mingled horror and astonishment that Emily, on the morning that was to have seen her brother and her cousin united, found the latter a blackened and stiffened corpse. A few brief but biting sentences, in the handwriting of the unhappy suicide, recounted all that her spurned love and her trampled feelings had inflicted upon her, and exulted in much more of the heathen spirit than became her great as had been her suffering-over the wounded pride and painful privations, the unaccustomed misery, of those whom her death would infallibly render what she termed "those poorest of all poor creatures, accomplished paupers." Edward, unable to endure poverty in his own country, sought the burning East, and added his bones to the myriads of English skeletons that have bleached upon the plains of India; and Emily upon her miserable pittance has vegetated from youth to age, each year rendering her more and more ill-tempered. Youth, hope, personal attraction, and self-esteem, have left her: and has she not cause of misery? is not misery some excuse for her evil looks and evil speech?"

Not a whit, not a whit,' replied George; she owes her misery to her temper, not her temper to her misery.' 'I fear you are incorrigible,' replied Harry Herbert; but there will be a day when you will feel that in every human being there is something to pity as well as something to blame. Only we can see the vice or folly, but not the misery.'

And here the friends parted.

W. T. H.

BLIGH'S HINTS ON ANALYTIC TEACHING.*

THE author of this pamphlet is a schoolmaster, and one of those singular and restless beings who are not content with things as they are, but commit the almost unheard-of pedagogical impropriety of inquiring what Locke, Pestalozzi, and such like, have to say on education. Nay, he has gone so far as to think on * Hints and Examples illustrative of Analytic Teaching. By John Bligh, Master of the Grammar School, South Crescent, Bedford Square. London: Seeley, 1835. pp. 48..

the subject himself, and to criticise severely the practice of his brethren. Is such a man to be endured? Is our constitution pedagogical to be destroyed by allowing-aye, and encouraging, youngsters to exert their faculties-a luxury which their instructors do not permit themselves to enjoy? Is the birch to be openly impugned, the cane to be secretly sneered at? Doctrines more levelling, more subversive of some portions of society, are not to be conceived.

Time was when schoolmasters durst not swerve from the even and orthodox tenor of their way; they were content, like the trunkmaker, to produce their slender result by an infinity of noise and blows and now two or three restless spirits dare to disturb the peace and pockets of this large and respectable fraternity, as yet uninfected by the seductions of novelty, and determined advocates of the prostration of the understanding.

Mr. Bligh is not ashamed to fly in the face of our oldest precepts: he will not even allow a boy to mind his book.

Not only are children introduced to names through things to a much less extent than might be done, but, just as they are beginning to manifest an intelligent curiosity, this plan is reversed: the school-book is almost substituted for the book of nature; things are thenceforward viewed through the cloudy medium of words, and, in many instances, never seen at all: so that, as Dr. Aikin observes, it is only their names, and not the things themselves, with which we are acquainted.'-p. 4, 5.

The boy is not teaching himself who merely accumulates the thoughts of others, though he receive no aid from a tutor, and however assiduous he be; nor can he be said to have formed a habit of attention who can, for hours, pore over lessons without looking off from the book, if those lessons call into exercise only one of his powers; if his attention be passive, not active, and the powers of comparing, combining, and classifying, take little or no part. Such was not the attention to which Newton ascribed his discoveries, and is not worth the name; and yet better attention than this can only be secured by a deviation, on the part of the student, from the beaten and prescribed path. Knowledge is generally presented in so artificial an order, so enveloped in technicalities, and so trammelled by rules, that the pupil is forced into habits of Pythagorean docility and mechanical assent most unfavourable to the development of his mind.'-p. 2.

Not satisfied with this, he brings Burke to his aid, taking as his motto the following passage, of which Burke ought, in the opinion of many, to be heartily ashamed:

I am convinced that the method of teaching which approaches most nearly to the method of investigation is incomparably the best; since, not content with serving up a few barren and lifeless truths, it leads to the stock on which they grew; it tends to set the reader himself in the track of invention, and to direct him into those paths in which the author has made his own discoveries.'

That foreign schemer, Pestalozzi, is next held up to public admiration; yet Mr. Bligh will not encourage our home produce