sure. If dark and tempestuous weather supercedes a preconcerted summer-day's excursion, her mind like the elements is full of turbulence, her face like the sky is covered with clouds, through which no gleam of cheerfulness breaks. If some winter's evening party is formed, and any disaster befals to detain her from the gay assembly, she sinks in anguish, or pines in melancholy, or chafes in peevish resentment. To be sure, the loss of one pleasure is to be regretted, whatever austere moralists may affirm or insinuate to the contrary. But then there are other losses, which ought not to pass wholly unregarded. If the delicate creature, on one of the dark days of disappointment, could be induced attentively to inspect her glass, she would see none of the charms and graces which were wont to play over the countenance. Oh! mournful and mysterious change, the eye averted sickens at the sight! How then would she start with horror, could she behold the true picture of her mind, for the time despoiled of its suavity, and deformed with harsh repulsive passions.

use."

'Mrs. Clack is wholly intent upon sway. Agreeable at some seasons, particularly when every one bows assent, and yields implicit submission, her chief foible is an excess of volubility. She proves the truth of the saying, "That a sharp tongue is the only edge-tool which never grows blunt by But Mrs. Clack never employs this keen weapon merely for sport. She cannot bear the idea of losing one particle of power. Touch her sceptre, and you instantly touch her temper to the quick. One of her morning mandates disobeyed, or disregarded, or called in question, often destroys her equanimity for the whole day. If silence were the effect, it might be tolerated, and perhaps prove

rather welcome to the family, by way of contrast ; but resentment always swells the stream of Mrs. Clack's loquacity to a torrent, that bears down opposition, and marks its course with mischief. She cannot part with an atom of power, without an entire loss of peace.

Now in all the five cases above given, it were easy to show how much happiness is sacrificed for want of keeping the temper under a little control. Every one must grant, that time, money, reputation, pleasure, and power, have all their value, and therefore it is a fair inference, that they ought not to be thrown away, or laid open to thieves and detractors, with absolute indifference. But I contend, that all these previous articles have but a relative value, which admits of being measured, weighed, summed up, and accurately ascertained; so that a sagacious politician at court, expert in estimating and settling such matters, for aught I know, might be able to ticket them off with their respective prices. Is it not then egregious folly, for any man or woman, on account of them, to part with that tranquil serenity, that sweet sunshine of the soul, the worth of which is confessedly beyond all estimation? Here argument is needless, for the thing is self-evident. Acquaintances and friends, through either carelessness or design, may pilfer from us some scanty items of time, cash, credit, pleasure, power, and influence, whether we will or not: but our equanimity, as is sufficiently demonstrated in experience, can only be taken away by our own consent. We must give the plunderer the key, or he has no means of reaching, much less of rifling the cabinet of the inner man. The reader will do well to listen to the poet's advice

"Aequam memento rebus in arduis
Servare mentem,"

Take care and preserve an even mind in difficuit affairs. And the counsel of the ancient Hebrew sage ought to carry far more weight than the precept of the Roman bard-" Keep thy heart with all diligence, for out of it are the issues of life."

THE MODERN MARTYR.

No. 2.

I remember an evening, tho' years are gone by,,
Since that evening was spent; to my heart and my eye
It is present, by memory's magical power,

And reflects back its light on this far distant hour./

BARTON.

THAT the human mind generally attains its highest degree of cultivation in the immediate vicinity of our large towns and cities, is a fact so well established, that it is not necessary for me to adduce any formal arguments in confirmation of it; but yet I have met with some fine specimens of mental improvement amongst the inhabitants of our lonely villages. While they are generally excluded from those sources of knowledge which are placed within the reach of a more crowded population, they are not by nature inferior in their intellectual endowments; and often, amidst the rusticity of their character, and uncouthness of their manners, we discover a degree of shrewdness and intelligence which we should not expect. But even in these instances of rustic improvement, we see no departure from the established plan of providence, which requires the application of a certain order of means to bring out into action the capa

bilities of the mind; as we may invariably trace the influence of instruction imparted either by an oral teacher, or through the medium of books. The poet or the fabulist may describe man as acquiring the refinements of taste, and the stores of intellectual wealth, by the unaided efforts of his own genius; yet when we descend amongst the realities of life, we invariably find, that where there is no vision, the people remain in a state of ignorance-under the dominion of prejudices and passions, which debase and corrupt them. Hence, while works of imagination. may be read for the gratification of our taste, we must look to other sources for correct views of men and of manners-of the causes of their improvement or degradation.

"We are very happy to see you," said Mrs. Mowbray to the old clerk, as he entered the parlour; "I have the pleasure of introducing you to a gentleman of whom, I believe, you have some knowledge."

At first the old gentleman did not recognize me, as his eyes were rather dim, through age; but when I advanced and gave him my hand, and made an allusion to the interview of the preceding day, he said, "I hope you are well, Sir."

Having taken his seat, and cautiously unfolded his clean pocket handkerchief, which he placed on his right knee, to avoid soiling his clothes while the ceremonies of the tea-table were performed, and put on his spectacles, which he rubbed with a piece of leather kept for that special purpose, he led off the conversation of the evening.

"Ah! Sir, it was a very affecting scene at

our church yesterday. The father and the younger brothers of the young 'squire wept very much when the coffin was let down into the vault. He lies just alongside the old baron family; but I fear he never inherited their virtues.

As the old man was now touching on his favourite theme of narration and description, I resolved to ascertain to what a degree the memory of an aged person can lose the recollection of recent communications, while it retains, strong and unimpaired, its more early associations and impressions. I therefore began by saying, "I believe you had some knowledge of some of the branches of the old baron family?"

"Yes, Sir; I remember when Sir Thomas, the last male branch of the family, was christened; and I knew his father; and my father has told me, that I was once taken to the mansion, when I was about six months old, to see Sir Thomas' grandfather; but I don't remember that."

This occasioned a smile from the facetious Mrs. Mowbray, who said, "You knew the old Vicar, the Rev. Edward Wood, who was found when an infant by Sir Thomas' father?"

"Yes, Madam; Sir Thomas' father was a. great sportsman, and he used to rise early in the morning to take the field. One morning," &c. &c.

He gave us the story, and the quotations, and the joke, with as much glee as though he had never narrated it to us before; and an allusion being made to the present occupier of the old mansion, we had the comparison drawn between the two families, the statement of his applica