not the labor or privations by which it is won. Do you not think, Miss Ashton, those young ladies you mention, while acquiring their knowledge of music, submitted to restraints as irksome as school keeping would impose?'

Undoubtedly-but that was to acquire an indispensable accomplishment.'

'Yes, according to the standard of fashion— but I anticipate the time, when our ladies will not be prized solely for possessing accomplishments, but for improving them-when the waste and wild places of our country, will all be cultivated and beautified, by the industry and taste of the men, and the minds of our people refined, and intelligent, and liberal, by the united exertions of the pure, and pious, and enlightened of both sexes. In short, when it will become fashionable for young ladies to be usefully, rather than romantically active; and then the sight of a frog-pond would no more deter them from engaging in a school, than would the joltings, privations, and fatigue they must endure, prevent them now from taking a trip to the White Hills, or a tour to Niagara.'

Ten years after Mr. Bennett had thus philosophized to these gay girls, they again met at his house. They were both happily married, both had children; and Elizabeth Brooks, still following the vocation she had chosen, was the instructress they both preferred. She was almost adored by her pupils, and respected and beloved like a relative by their parents; and the placidity of her countenance, and cheerfulness, even vivacity of her manners, was a proof

that her mind was contented, and her life pleasant as well as useful. She also was on a visit to the clergyman.

'I have lately received a letter from my nephew, William Forbes,' remarked Mr. Bennett. He is, I find, a widower.'

The married ladies glanced at Elizabeth, but her countenance was unchanged.

'He says he shall be here in the course of a few months, if he can learn whether a certain lady who first engaged his affections is at liberty, and would receive him favorably,' continued the clergyman.

The married ladies both smiled, and a slight color was perceptible on the mild, chastened features of Elizabeth.

'He says,' continued the clergyman, 'he has fortune, fame, friends, all that is necessary to make him happy, except the consciousness of rectitude, which, since violating his engagement with Elizabeth, he has never enjoyed,and a partner to share his confidence and prosperity. He acknowledges his fault, but thinks he has already been sufficiently punished. The lady he married was beautiful, and he was dazzled by her charms, till he forgot, or rather relinquished his first love; but his wife never made him happy. He does not accuse her of imperfections, only remarks that they were unequally matched; that there never was, that there could not be, between them that communion of mind, to which he had always been accustomed in his intercourse with Miss Brooks. He was not himself aware, how

`much of his happiness depended on this communion, till he had forfeited it. He entreats me to intercede for him.'

'What answer did Elizabeth give?'

The subject was under discussion all the afternoon. The married ladies advised her to accept the offer of her penitent lover-they probably expected an invitation to the wedding. The good clergyman told her to consult her own heart, and those excellent principles that had so nobly and effectually supported her under every vicissitude. But he hinted how much pleasure it would give him to see her married to a worthy man; indeed, he said he should like to pronounce the nuptial benediction himself.

'What answer did Elizabeth give ?

I intend, hereafter, to sketch the character of William Forbes, and then the propriety of the answer which Elizabeth did give, will be apparent. Till then, every lady and gentleman, who does me the honor to read these 'Sketches,' is at liberty to form and express their own opinion on the subject.

THE

BELLE AND THE BLEU.

The world is too much with us.

WORDSWORTH.

Mark yonder pomp of costly fashion,
Round the wealthy bride;

But when compared with real passion
Poor is all that pride-

What are their showy treasures?
What are their noisy pleasures?

The gay gaudy glare of vanity and art.

The polished jewel's blaze

May draw the wond'ring gaze,

But never, never can come near the worthy heart.
BURNS.

J. W. THOMPSON, Esq. was a very rich man, and a very melancholy man-one of those characters, who, seemingly blessed with all that earth can give, are yet always repining and finding fault with the wind, the weather, the season; or else complaining of ill luck, or ill healthand always feeling an ill temper-but the world felt no sympathy for his sorrows. He had passed through life calculating how he might turn every incident that befell him to some pecuniary profit, and his acquaintances were now, in their turn, calculating how much he had gained, and how soon he would leave his wealth to his two daughters. Had he been a poor man and worked at day-labor to support his

children, how much more his death would have been lamented! For he died-the rich die as certainly, though not always as peacefully as the indigent. His neighbours would have said, 'what will become of the poor girls now their kind father is gone, who worked so hard ever since his wife died, to provide for his darlings! He is dead, and well may they weep-they will never find such another tender friend." But when the rich J. W. Thompson, Esq. died, they said no such thing.

'I do not think, Simon, the death of Squire Thompson any great loss to the world,' said Mr. Jacob Towner, to his hired man, as he paused from his labor of mowing, and rested his scythe on the ground, while the funeral procéssion passed. But yet I fear the world is a great loss to him. When a man's heart is wholly set upon the mammon of unrighteousness, he must feel very poor when forced away from his idol. But still, Simon, we will not judge him,' continued he, raising his hand and waving it with an oratorical motion as nearly in imitation of his good clergyman as he possibly could; we must not judge him, Simon. Nevertheless I was thinking how foolish it is for us to be so anxious for riches, when God just as willingly receives a beggar as a prince and never shows any favor to a man because he has left a great estate behind him. Simon, what are all the things of this world but vanity? Hark! is not that the sound of thunder? We must make haste, or we shall certainly have our hay wet again, and then it will

Ah!