tion, that unmeaning simper, which smiles on all alike. This arises, either from an affectation of softness, or from perfect insipidity.

Let me recommend to your attention, that elegance, which is not so much a quality itself, as the high polish of every other. It is what diffuses an ineffable grace over every look, every motion, every sentence you utter. It gives that charm to beauty, without which it generally fails to please. It is partly a personal quality, in which respect it is the gift of nature; but I speak of it, principally, as a quality of the mind. In a word, it is the perfection of taste in life and manners,—every virtue and every excellency in their most graceful and amiable forms.

You may, perhaps, think that I want to throw every spark of nature out of your composition, and to make you entirely artificial. Far from it. I wish you to possess the most perfect simplicity of heart and manners. I think you may possess dignity without pride, affability without meanness, and simple elegance without affectation.

I would particularly recommend to you those exercises, that oblige you to be much abroad in the open air, such as walking, and riding on horseback. These will give vigor to your constitutions, and a bloom to your complexions. An attention to your health is a duty you owe to yourselves and to your friends. Bad health seldom fails to have an influence on the spirits and temper. The finest geniuses, the most delicate minds, have very frequently a correspondent delicacy of bodily constitution, which they are too apt to neglect. Their luxury lies in reading and late hours, equal enemies to health and beauty.

The domestic economy of a family is entirely a woman's province, and fürnishes a variety of subjects for the exertion both of good sense and good taste. If you ever come to have the charge of a family, it ought to engage much of your time and attention; nor can you be excused from this by any extent of fortune, though, with a narrow one, the ruin that follows the neglect of it may be more immediate.

Do not confine your attention to dress to your public appearances. Accustom yourselves to an habitual neatness; so that, in the most careless undress, in your most unguarded

hours, you may have no reason to be ashamed of your ap pearance. You will not easily believe how much we consider your dress as expressive of your characters. Vanity, levity, slovenliness, folly, appear through it. An elegant simplicity is an equal proof of taste and delicacy.

In dancing, the principal points you are to attend to, are ease and grace. I would have you dance with spirit: but never allow yourselves to be so far transported with mirth, as to forget the delicacy of your sex. Many a girl, dancing in the gaiety and innocence of her heart, is thought to discover a spirit she little dreams of.

In the choice of your friends, have your principal regard to goodness of heart and fidelity. If they also possess taste and genius, that will make them still more agreeable and You have particular reason to place confidence in those, who have shown affection for you in your early days, when you were incapable of making them any This is an obligation for which you cannot be too

useful companions.

return.

grateful.

If you have the good fortune to meet with any who deserve the name of friends, unbosom yourself to them with the most unsuspicious confidence. It is one of the world's maxims, never to trust any person with a secret, the discovery of which could give you any pain; but it is the maxim of a little mind and a cold heart, unless where it is the effect of frequent disappointments and bad usage. An open temper, if restrained but by tolerable prudence, will make you, on the whole, much happier than a reserved, suspicious one, although you may sometimes suffer by it. Coldness and distrust are but the too certain consequences of age and experience; they are unpleasant feelings, and need not be anticipated before their time.

but

But, however open you may be in talking of your own affairs, never disclose the secrets of one friend to another. These are private deposits, which do not belong to you, nor have you any right to make use of them.

LESSON LXIV.

To a Log of Wood upon the Fire.-NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

POOR LOG! I cannot hear thee sigh,
And groan, and hiss, and see thee die,
To warm a poet,

Without evincing thy success,
And, as thou wanest less and less,
Inditing a farewell address,

To let thee know it.

Peeping from earth, a bud unveiled,
Some busky bourn or dingle hailed
Thy natal hour,

While infant winds around thee blew,
And thou wert fed with silver dew,
And tender sun-beams, oozing through
Thy leafy bower.

Earth, water, air, thy growth prepared;
And if perchance some robin, scared
From neighboring manor,)

Perched on thy crest, it rocked in air,
Making his ruddy feathers flare
In the sun's ray, as if they were
A fairy banner.

Or if some nightingale impressed
Against thy branching top her breast,
Heaving with passion,

And, in the leafy nights of June,
Outpoured her sorrows to the moon,
Thy trembling stem thou didst attune
To each vibration.

Thou grew'st a goodly tree, with shoots
Fanning the sky, and earth-bound roots
So grappled under,

That thou, whom perching birds could swing,
And zephyrs rock with lightest wing,
From thy firm trunk, unmoved, didst fling
Tempest and thunder.

How oft thy lofty summits won
Morn's virgin smile, and hailed the sun
With rustling motion,-

How oft, in silent depths of night,

When the moon sailed in cloudless light,
Thou hast stood awe-struck at the sight,
In hushed devotion,-

'Twere vain to ask; for, doomed to fall,
The day appointed for us all
O'er thee impended:

The hatchet, with remorseless blow,
First laid thee in the forest low,
Then cut thee into logs, and so
Thy course was ended.

But not thine use; for moral rules,
Worth all the wisdom of the schools,
Thou may'st bequeath me;

Bidding me cherish those who live
Above me, and, the more I thrive,
A wider shade and shelter give
To those beneath me.

So when, at last, Death lays me low,
I may resign, as calm as thou,

My hold terrestrial;

Like thine my latter end be found
Diffusing light and warmth around,
And like thy smoke my spirit bound
To realms celestial.

LESSON LXV.

A Family Scene.-MISS FERRIER.

THE first appearance of the Holm was highly prepossessing. It was a large, handsome-looking house, situated in a wellwooded park, by the side of a broad, placid river; and an air of seclusion and stillness reigned all around, which impressed the mind with images of peace and repose. The interior of the house was no less promising. There was a spacious hall, and a handsome staircase, with all appliances to boot; but, as the party approached the drawing-room, all the luxurious indolence of thought, inspired by the tranquillity of the scenery, was quickly dispelled by the discordant sounds which issued from thence; and, when the door was thrown open, the footman in vain attempted to announce the visiters.

In the middle of the room all the chairs were collected, to form a coach and horses for the Masters and Misses Fairbairn. One unruly-looking urchin sat in front, cracking a long whip with all his might; another acted as guard behind, and blew a shrill trumpet with all his strength; while a third, in a night-cap and flannel lappet, who had somewhat the air of having quarrelled with the rest of the party, paraded up and down, in solitary majesty, beating a drum. On a sofa sat Mrs. Fairbairn, a soft, fair, genteel-looking woman, with a crying child about three years old at her side, tearing paper into shreds, seemingly for the delight of littering the carpet, which was already strowed with headless dolls, tailless horses, and wheelless carts. As she rose to receive her visiters, it began to scream.

"I'm not going away, Charlotte, love,-don't be frightened," said the fond mother, with a look of ineffable pleasure.

"You shan't get up," screamed Charlotte, seizing her mother's gown fiercely, to detain her.

"My darling, you'll surely let me go to speak to unclegood uncle, who brings you pretty things, you know;" but, during this colloquy, uncle and the ladies had made their way to the enthralled mother, and the bustle of a meeting and introduction was got over." The footman obtained chairs