now, merely because it effects only yourself, you will find it insensibly creep into your transactions with others. But I see your papa and cousin; let us walk across the lawn to meet them."

The evening passed merrily away; for Arthur had many school anecdotes to relate to his cousin, sleight of hand tricks to show, and a long account of a play got up by the young gentleman of Thorpe House School. And much did she laugh at the idea of his female attire, in the character he sustained.

She, on the other hand, brought forth her port-folio, to show what progress she had made, and played him many of his favorite airs, which she had learnt for his gratification. It is such mutual interest, even in trifles between members of a family, which constitute its happiness.

Now, little readers, if you are not already too tired of my tale, we will fancy two years to have passed away, when a sad event happened to our little procrastinator. Arthur had again returned for the Midsummer holidays; an invitation was sent for both him and Ellen to spend a week with a relation, who resided about twenty miles from Mr. Lester's house.

A gayer

One day

Permission was given to them to accept the invitation, and in high glee they took their seats in the carriage, which was to convey them to their destination. week, neither Arthur nor Ellen had ever past. they went out on a gypsy party to some ruins a few miles distant. Another day they went out on a boating excursion-two evenings to the Theatre-a great treat to Ellen, as that was a species of amusement in which she had never before partaken. Then hailed, with a sigh, the evening on which they were to return.

"Here is a letter," said the lady they were visiting, just before their departure, to Ellen, "which a poor woman has sent to ask if I would allow one of the servants to take, there being no direct post to your village; but I

prefer entrusting it to you, if you will take charge of it."

Ellen of course accepted the charge; and having made their farewells, her cousin and she again set out for their happy home.

"Well, uncle," said Arthur, after Ellen, with her usual vivacity, had recounted all they had done and seen in their week's visit, "we certainly have enjoyed ourselves very much, but I should soon get tired of such a life; the very things which have pleased me this week, would weary me the next, I fancy."

"I am glad it has had that effect on you, my boy," said his uncle. "It is in a life of usefulness only, we can meet with real enjoyment. Those who seek happiness in mere selfish and idle pleasures, will find they have followed the shadow instead of the substance."

In the evening, a walk was proposed. Ellen went up to put her things on, and while thus engaged, saw the letter which had been given into her care. "Dear me!" thought she, "that letter for Farmer Hall's servant ought to go. I dare say it is no matter for to-night, and I will send it, or Arthur and I can take it when we go out for our walk in the morning."

Two days, however, elapsed without it being sent; and when received by the servant for whom it was intended, was found to contain intelligence of her mother being at the point of death, and anxious to see her child once more in this world.

The poor girl set out immediately, but it was too late; had the letter been delivered on the day of Ellen's return, she would have arrived in time.

[Perhaps, my dear young readers, it might be well to state here, that the fact of a servant, in a family of my acquaintance, being denied the melancholy satisfaction. of soothing the last moments of her only parent, through

the neglect of a young lady in delivering a letter, came under my own immediate observation.]

Ellen was possessed of a sensitive mind and quick feelings; and the deep remorse she felt for the unfortunate occurrence, brought on a fit of illness which confined her for some weeks to her bed; and when health again glowed on her cheek, the remembrance of the past, though it had entirely cured her of her fault, would often cast a shade over her bright countenance.

Ellen has now little daughters of her own; and I do not think there is any fault she bids them guard against more, than-"Procrastination."

THE BROTHER AND SISTER.

"Leave thy fatherless children, I will preserve them :
And let thy widows trust in me."

JER. xlix. 11.

IT is now many years ago since, bankrupt in that greatest of blessings-Health, my physician ordered me to the sea-side. I particularly wished to avoid, in my choice of a locality, those places which are usually resorted to by the votaries of pleasure, as well as the invalid. Many sorrows had combined with ill health to weigh heavily on my spirits, and render me unfit for much society. A beloved husband, and brother, had perished on the glorious field of Waterloo; and like Rachel, I wept for my children, that they were not.

After much deliberation, I fixed on the little retired village of B- in Devonshire. It was a small place, and did not contain, I fancy, more than fifty houses, and those principally occupied by fishermen.

The house I was so fortunate to obtain, belonged to a gentleman who, until this summer, had been in the habit of accompanying to B-, during that season, an only daughter, who had for many years suffered under a spinal affection, which rendered her totally helpless. She was

now, however dead; and the bereaved parent wished to let the cottage, with the furniture, and every thing as it stood. I accordingly became its occupant. I do not think it is possible for imagination to picture a more pleasant spot, or a prettier habitation: it was small, contained only a little drawing-room, and a still less parlour, with three bed rooms; but there was a simplicity and elegance in the arrangement and selection of the furniture throughout, which pleased me much, and spoke greatly in praise of the taste of its previous inhabitants. It was completely covered with honeysuckles, clematis, jessamine, and roses; even the chimneys were not free from their caresses, and I could not open my windows of a morning without receiving a shower of dew upon my hands, inhaling an air redolent with sweetness, and having my olfactory nerves greeted with a perfume far finer than ever was manufactured by Atkinson or Delcroix.

My little cot was placed in the midst of a garden, well stocked with the choicest flowers, and in excellent order; but the myrtles, always beautiful on the Devonshire coast, seemed to me finer than I had ever seen, save in "fair and fervid Italy." The surrounding country was charming, fertile, well cultivated, and in many parts highly picturesque; a walk of about five minutes from the boundary of my little demesne, conducted to the sea, and much of my time did I spend on its shore, picking up the shells, which were of rare beauty there,-watching the fishing boats come in, or the swelling billows break on the beach, and send their creamy waves nearly to my feet. I fancied it was a special interposition of Providence which had directed me to this enchanting place; its retirement from the noisy, bustling, jostling world, and its great natural beauties, seemed a balm to my bruised spirit.

In my daily wanderings I generally strolled along the beach, and returned through the village. There was one cottage at the end, rather apart from, and superior in