this is somewhat true, but not with regard to Anne; she has, as Papa has often said,—and he knows many of her sorrows, one of the sweetest, truest natures, human creature ever had; and, as for the elder ones, so proud, and soured, and evil-tongued, perhaps it is disappointment which has made them so, for, since I have been so happy, Walter, so- -Well, I mean since you asked me to be obedient, I have thought that good and evil are nearer allied to happiness and misery than people think of." "Well, well," replied Walter, "no sinner but what you would find some plea for, my Dora; for mercy is more an attribute of your sex than of mine. But now cross this stile, my dear one, and you are home," and as he said so, he lifted her from the lane on to the mossy sward of the woodland, and pressed her to his heart as a sign of boundless welcome. These old dim woods led fittingly to the broad secluded terrace of an ancient stone-built country-house; on the stained buttressed windows of which, the rays of the declining sun fell in burnished splendour. From this terrace, by a quaint, secluded postern door, he led her into a suite of fine old rooms, leading one from another; one of which, a study, filled with books, in ancient presses, with carved reading-desks, with maps, and globes, and telescopes, scattered around the broad seats of the richlytinted oriel windows, was prepared for their coming, for a meal, half tea, half dinner, was set ready; a fire of wood burnt brightly on the marble hearth, and the student's own richly embroidered chair, worked by a loving mother's hand, was set ready with a footstool for the little wife. Presently there came in to welcome her, Walter's nurse; an aged, but still an active, cheerful woman; who, when she saw the rare loveliness of the girlish wife, coupled with what old John, her husband, had already told her, as witnessed by himself, and learnt from the proud garrulity of honest Podd, she, then and there, without restraint, without a minute's hesitation, folded the little trembling creature to her heart, and blessed her fervently as though she were her child. Then, with tenderness, and gentleness, and infinite respect, she led the sweet wife through this old, secluded suite of rooms, and showed the preparations made for her; then, after, as the descending shadows fell, the double meal was served, and shortly over; and as these evening shadows broadened into night, the oriel curtains were drawn, the rich lamp set, the sweet one-in the modest bridal gown, short sleeves, low boddice, little waist--her hair so gorgeous in its ebon hue, the sacred ring, so small, so round, so scintillating in the light-sat on the footstool at her husband's feet, old Mr. Churchwarden's little, spiral clouds floating around her upturned, listening face! She had been five days married, and the letters which were to tell the secret to her father, and to summon Walter's mother to his home, were already written. With that charming usefulness which was so much her characteristic, and so priceless to an abstract man like Riddle, she had made her husband's breakfast, set it in the fashion which best pleased him, gathered new-opened flowers, yet beaded with the early dew, and set them by his cup, and welcomed him with loving smiles, when old Bridget, who always waited at this meal, brought in the morning's letters. The first he opened was from Auvergne, and full of hopeful news. The noble-hearted curate wrote that his health was wonderfully improved, that the needed verifications had not only been fully accomplished, but that important discoveries had also been made relative to the volcanic strata of the Puy de Dome, and that, commencing his return homeward in a few days, by way of Paris, whither some of the literati and savans had invited him, he hoped to find his Dora well and happy, and cheered by the visit of Mr. Riddle. And Walter smiled; smiled as he read aloud this letter, and gave it to his young wife, with an expression of such faith, and hope, and triumph, and proud and earnest love, as to make Dora kneel beside him as he took up the second letter. It had a large seal, bore an official look, and was brief; but scarcely had the proud, stern, ordinarily unimpassioned man read one line, before his faltering hands half dropped it, and his lips became so deadly white, though defiant as they grew more bloodless, as to paralyze the young and kneeling wife with terror. "It is sad for the good and learned to die, because the earth can ill spare such,' said Dora, quietly; "but why should it vex you thus, Sir," and she looked up into his face half fearfully. "Why?" and he spoke so sternly, as to make the young wife's very heart stand still. "Why? (and he repeated his own interrogative with vehemence) why-why, because of this Horner-this man-this one who, through life, has beset every proud and honourable path of mine! " "But still," asked the young wife, half fearfully, half tremblingly, "the Professorship is as much open to you as to him, is it not?" "No," and he said this so sternly and peremptorily that she was tremulous with fear. "Why, Walter, why? Papa has often said that you are one of the profoundest mathematicians and scientific men of the age." He only seemed to hear her brief interrogatory, for, repeating it, and then hesitating for the instant, as if touched by shame even in the very blindness of bitter rivalry-he said softly: "Because I am married!" His young wife heard these words; rose very quietly, withdrew an arm's length from him, and then gently, yet with a deep and earnest pathos, never excelled by any human lips, that ever spoke the words of grief and woe: "And, Walter, do you repent it then?" He was touched to the very soul; all that was generous, and noble, and truthful in his nature, at once accused him of meanness, and cruelty, and injustice; and he rose abashed and trembling to fold her weeping in his arms, to kiss away her passionate tears, to plead guilty, to ask pardon, to love with more passionate idolatry, for the very question she had asked. Never, never, never," he vehemently repeated, as his tears rained down upon her beautiful, and clasped, and trembling hands; " every hour only makes my worship of you more idolatrous, my wife, my Dora. Only, only,-I am never coherent when this Horner comes within my way, for he has-hundreds of men say he has-crossed my path with every art and wile. No, no, Dora, by every vow I've made to you and sworn, believe, that the very first night I saw you, as I meditated over Podd's parlour fire, I vowed myself religiously to the life I have undertaken; and, judged finally, how much nobler it would be to live with such a spirit as yourself, than to lead the life of a cloistered monk; and earn a future fame through the greatness of truth in written words, rather than be satisfied solely with the vain distinction of the professional chair. both a present and a future in the one; simply a present in the other. Darling wife, I have erred; and by your purer, and your nobler and more gentle nature, you must forgive!" There was Need he have asked her? No! He knew not the she tore herself from the embraces of her husband, and deep generosity of the heart he loved! was helped weeping into the gig by the old servant, at the end of the wood she had so blithely entered on that day week, her sunny day of marriage! So early had she started from Broadlands, as for it to be not much beyond noon when the gig stayed beside the old grey Edge-stone. After she had alighted and old John had driven off, which he did reluctantly, and with promises to be back quickly, for it had been found necessary to take him and Bridget into confidence, Dora took up her bundle and proceeded on her way homewards. And now, as it seemed, almost for the first time, all the perils of her undertaking gleamed across her mind; the inquiries, the gossip, the village scandal, and "Walter," she said, after some minutes' silence, and when even the traces of a shadow had vanished from her guileless heart, and only somewhat of greater faith and earnestness was added to that already so profound and touching, "in such a case as this, and friends knowing not yet about the little wife you've taken, will they not gather and give suffrages towards your election; and thus showing your majority over that of Mr. Horner, give you all that thus to you is needful-the triumph of living noblest in men's minds? And will they not do this, supposing that we keep our marriage secret another week; and cannot you, when this proud triumph comes, dear husband, calmly say, that a little wife, just newly mar-last not least, old Absalom's stubborn indignation. But ried, is a preventive to ambition of this character?" And sweetly she prayed him, with her arms around his neck, to think of this. "And you!" he half-incredulously asked, listening if only for the sake of a fresh week's secrecy, so dear to him. Why, Walter, in this case I must go home for a few days, say three or four; for there is Podd to pacify, and all the idle tales to silence by my presence, in order to keep the secret. But all will be well; for though to leave you will be so hard, there is dear papa and home to think of, and to get ready for his return; and then, the few needful days over, think how pleasant it will be for you to come and bring papa and your mother to see me in my lowly home." nothing was too much for Dora's faith and love! She had proceeded about a mile from the Edge-stone, when, all at once, it crossed her mind and made her heart throb, that if her marriage were to be concealed, one of the first necessities was to remove her wedding-ring, as it would be sure to be immediately seen by eyes so quick as those of Ruth, and little Leah, and Tim, and yet it was the hardest sacrifice yet asked from the duty she had taken on her! Yet once to know this was a duty and a need, was at once to do it. Just as this resolution was made within her soul, there came in sight across the forest way that honest pedlar, who was so ably enlisted by Podd in the memorable matter concerning the curate's hat. So, as he carried simple wares about of tapes and bought a yard of somewhat narrow ribbon, white and watered. As this pedlar, one of Wordsworth's noble kind, took the little coin in payment, he said, "Well, Miss, God speed thee home; for there be that mad old woman, Martha Cadwallader, and the squire's two daughters (Miss Anne, bless her heart, is'nt a wasp like the rest), and the old squire himself, and Bump, the coachman, a going on about you, and say you've run off; but its like 'em, nothing white but what they blacken." For awhile Riddle was deaf to his young wife's sug-ribbons, Dora stopped him as he said "Good day," and gestion and entreaties; but intense ambition is often a co-equal with intense love, in stern natures like this of Dora's husband. But though most assuredly, if placed side by side, his worthy idolatry of this magnificent heart he loved so well, would have outlived and been paramount above the other passions of his firm, resolved nature, still the desire of testing fame, the truth of friends, the approbation of the world, and the power thus gained of tacitly triumphing over the rival of years, joined to the increase of the personal sense of this rivalry, by the late strange encounter with Horner, made him consent at last, towards nightfall, to write to Poda and ask his secrecy for one more week, and that the morrow but one, Dora should be driven as far as the 'moorland Edge-stone by the old servant, and returning home there for a few days, ostensibly for the purpose of preparing for her father's return, await the issue of such efforts as Riddle's friends might make, and his tacit triumph over Horner. Though, thus unworthily, shadowing the truth of his pure and noble love for the little human creature he had made his wife, by the sophistry of a mere ambition of formula, Walter with pain sent the letter to Podd, and prepared for Dora's departure. And in this newer, and this golden birth of love, the hours passed on, and perished quickly like autumnal flowers, so that the morning of the parting came, and found it sorrowed by the young bride's tears; but the far deeper ones of these she hid, and only talking of their happy meeting in a day or two, recollected and performed all the sweetest and most touching duties of a wife, by carefully placing the books her husband had to use, setting all things in the order which he loved, by removing much which might remind him of her absence, by filling old Mr. Churchwarden up to his very muzzle, and only weeping that she could not charge him fifty times, and lastly, urging Bridget to be thoughtful of her master. But being unable to part with the smallest thing he had given her, she tied in her poor handkerchief the little silk gown Bridget had thoughtfully run together for her (Riddle would not part with the little sacred bridal gown), a rich shawl, and one or two other things procured for her, and sewing the gorgeous diamond ring, placed above her wedding-ring by Walter on the bridal night, in the waist of her dress, "My heart and actions are pure, Ben," replied Dora, proudly, for she was, in so saying, vindicating her hus band's honour as much as her own, and so I care not; and for the rest, papa will be home in a few days." ag "I'm glad of it, Miss, for I come seven miles across the hills every Sunday to hear his fine sermons; their good and hopeful words are a staff to me, and help me ably through the hard and struggling week. And so God bless him! And I say this truly, as you know, Miss; for many a meal he gives me through the deep winter, when times are hard for such as toil like me. good day, and bless you, Miss, and don't mind Cadwallader." Thus saying, Ben proceeded onward, not without turning round every now and then, till distance hid her from his sight, to bless the beautiful and dear child of the curate! So As soon as profound solitude was around her, Dora sat down in a turfy spot, as still and sunny as that in which her husband had first poured out to her his passionate idolatry of soul, and taking off the sacred sign of marriage (the pitying angels know with what reluctance and what sorrow), hung it on the pedlar's ribbon, and putting this around her neck, hid thus her weddingring within her bosom! This safe, and with it all outer evidence of her secret, she hastened on her way. Bathed in the golden splendour of the afternoon, her humble home to Dora never looked more beautiful; and all things had been so lovingly attended to by Ruth, and Absalom, and Tim, that as she set foot within its sweet old kitchen, its little, quaint, dim study, fragrant and breezy, for its casements were open to the sun, as she trod her little bedchamber dressed and trim, opened the cool dairy hatch, stepped round the bowery garden, and listened to the murmur of the silver brook-the sweet and low-voiced music of her cradle-went into the old byre to pat Brindle, lowing as she recognised the footfall of her little mistress, and into the stable to unloose old docile Ned, the pony, never was home more dear than now to this sweet creature! She waited Podd's coming impatiently, as arranged by Riddle's letter; but it was full eight before he came; and as she expected he would be, in a very obstinate and irascible temper. For without greeting of any sort or kind he plumped himself down on a chair by the clock, pulled off his hat with a significant twitch, wiped his forehead with his pocket-handkerchief rolled up as tight as a cannon-ball, and began to growl like a bear with a sore ear. "What's this thing wanted to be kept secret another week for, eh? what good'll it do, what's the use on't, what'll come on't? The only thing I know is-I'll have it out to-night, and that I be determined on, if I die for it." And with this resolve he rubbed his head with his temporary cannon-ball till it was as red as a full-blown peony. Dora endeavoured to pacify him, and to explain what the few and brief words of Walter's letter had failed to do; but at first he was very restless and unmanageable. "I canna see it, I dunna understand it, and I won't (and Podd folded his arms and looked defiant-that is to say, as much as he could); and I must say, plainly, child, that this husband of yours, with all his learning, is-" " Hush-hu-sh-Podd," and the young wife pressed her little hand upon old Absalom's pouting lips-"Not one word against my husband-not even were papa himself the speaker-no not one, for in this case the fault is mine." So saying, she knelt down and related the matter still more minutely to Absalom. "Whew-whew," whistled Podd, when the young wife came to the part about the letter Walter had written, and now somewhat pacified by her sweet pleading words, "the letter was sent off the night 'afore last, eh? and should on course reached me yesterday?" Receiving an answer in the affirmative, Podd whistled still more drily and significantly, and diving deep into one of his profound pockets, produced an old leathern pocket-book, with a strap and buckle which would have done for a portmanteau, and undoing this, produced the letter sent from Broadlands. A cursory glance showed that the seal had been tampered with, the letter opened, previously to its reaching the Barley Mow, and the post-mark altered; and very rightly judging that Miss Martha had been rather exceeding even the latitudinarian limits of the code of Cadwallader, he whistled for some minutes to an amazing extent, and then bursting into a huge fit of laughter, which Dora well knew meant much, at once consented, until the curate's return, to keep the secret, provided old Northwood and his dame shared it. As he would listen to no compromise other than this, Dora at last reluctantly consented, and Podd, now mighty full of some great undertaking, presently withdrew, after rousing the fire, laying the supper-cloth, and producing from some hidden receptacle left outside in the porch, a considerable fraction of cold roast lamb, a currant tart, and a bottle of pale ale, of his own peculiar brewing. (To be concluded in our next.) TASTE FOR THE BEAUTIFUL. WE rejoice to observe the growing disposition among the influential classes to elevate the taste of the people, and to enable them to live for a higher purpose than mere bodily toil. The discovery has been made, that men and women of even the humblest classes, have hearts, minds, souls, faculties, which require their proper nursing and aliment, just as the physical frame does. Heretofore Society has almost entirely neglected the culture of the higher faculties of man's nature; and the inevitable consequence has been, great social misery and degradation, and the admixture of a very large proportion of barbarism with our boasted enlightenment. We regard the Taste for the Beautiful as one of the noblest and most useful endowments with which the human being is gifted. It is the handmaid of civilization; its full development is civilization. Beauty in all things; in Art, in Science, in Literature, in Social and Domestic life. Nor is this high gift lavished with a sparing hand: its seeds are planted in every human being-in the servant as in the master, in the labourer as in the prince. What is mainly wanted, is the opportunity and means for its development. Beauty is around us in nature everywhere. Nature is beauty; trees, green fields, clear skies, spring flowers, all are beautiful. Ah," says some immured and pining spirit-" these beauties are beyond the reach of my enjoyment; my days are all spent in toil: what have I to do with pleasure? my whole life is work, work." We are free to confess that this is a sorry state of things; and one that ought not to be. But as society grows a little older and wiser, it will become convinced of this, and supply the remedy. Already something has been done to liberate a portion of the time of the working classes from toil; in the factory, the mine, the workshop, and the warehouse; thus leaving them opportunities for social enjoyment and self-culture, which they did not possess before. More-much more-remains yet to be done; we must yet have our public walks, gardens, and museums, free and open to all; beauty in nature, and beauty in art, speaking to the mind, and influencing it in a thousand ways-improving the taste, elevating the moral feelings, and raising the general standard of manners throughout the country. "Respect the working classes," says Samuel Bamford, a man who has grown grey in toil and suffering. "Respect them, and every man, woman, and child of them will begin to find out, and soon, that they are no rubbish.' Then will the women and girls of our towns, of our factory population, begin to want cleaner and smarter garments and house-floors, and more pure and plenteous water to make them so; then will they begin to want parks and gardens, and public walks, and fresh sweet air that will bring roses to their cheeks; these things they will want as naturally as they will wish for sweethearts and husbands to admire them, and to walk them forth; then will the young fellow, in order to be acceptable to his fair one, put on his clean shirt, and his Sunday best, and flinging down his black pipe, and quitting his drowsy companions, he will fly to meet his chosen one, and lead her by hedge-rows and field-paths in summer, by the mellow wood in autumn, and over the crisped snowwreath in winter, until, when they return home, their garments will smell as sweet as the breezes amid which they have been walking. Such a couple, whether married or single, having thus tasted of nature's blessings on one day of the week, will never return to filth and squalor during the other six. Thus, self-respect will lead to cleanliness, cleanliness will lead to a wish for more pure enjoyments, company will be more select, conversation more chaste and sensible, manners more decent and proper, and a great advance will be made in the improvement of the masses." The beauties of Nature we regard as the most beautiful of all things. And how much would the enjoyment of all classes be increased, were they enabled by proper education, to appreciate the significance of nature's beauties, and lay to heart the moral lessons they administer. But we would also have the people freely admitted to the inspection of works of art contained in public galleries and museums. Man resembles his Maker in creating beauty. He has the gift of forming beautiful objects; he paints pictures, and carves statues, the sight of which 46 not only gives great pleasure, but purifies the thoughts Legislation has hitherto been slow to recognise the ness. The rich can enjoy most; but the poorest could have his share, were the access made free to him. We rejoice to note, from time to time, the increasing signs of social improvement in this respect. Public baths to make general the luxury of cleanliness, and inspire the working man with a sense of dignity and selfrespect; public walks and gardens-to give our toiling classes opportunities of converse with the charms of nature; public museums-to cultivate the taste of all ranks, by facilitating the inspection of beautiful works of art: all these are delightful signs of progress, and mark the commencement of a period when Art, like all the other developments of Intellect, will contribute to the beautifying of life, and the promotion of the public wellbeing. THE APPROACH OF WINTER. The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing, On the earth her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead, The harvest is over, Its shroud of dead foliage has long been On she came; her eyes thrilling with love, her breath The year is indeed fast fleeting by. Spring and summer have come and gone, and the frost of the early mornings reminds us that the grave of the passing year is being dug. Yet, let us rejoice. Sunshine, and genial air, and blooms and shoots, and ripened abundance, have been the gifts of the year. The barns and garners are filled, and there is abundance of food in the land for And winter, then, is again coming round. Yes, it man and for beast. We once more love to toast our feet on the grows cold. fender, and the sight of a glowing fire is again cheerful. Domestic comfort is now delicious, and a snug home is relished more than ever. Happy faces assemble round blazing hearths, the candles are early lit, the curtains are drawn, and the winter evening occupations commence. It is now that the comfort of an English home is really felt, and that an English fire seems a sight more glad than anything in the world beside. The past season, plentiful though it has been, has not been all gladness. While autumn has yielded an ample store of golden grain and fruits, and the bright sky has made gay the green floor of earth, pestilence has been And while many thankful hearts slaying thousands, in the squalid lanes and courts of our large towns and cities. are now rejoicing in the abundance and the comfort secured for the winter, there are, alas! many poor widows looking sorrowfully in the faces of their children, whom the pestilence has made fatherless. Let those who have comfort in their homes think, at such a season, of those who have need of comfort, and who are homeless. Many a bruised heart may be healed, Yet a beautiful spirit seems to hover around the last and a load of heavy misery lightened, by the helping It is at this season that we have some hand of the good Christian being stretched forth in time days of autumn. of the most pictorial days of the year. There is a of need. Though we would stimulate every effort at selfripened and mellowed beauty, tinged with melancholy, reliance and self-help, there really are occasions on which in the woods and fields, about the close of autumn, the preachment of such lessons is cruel. What selfwhich makes the season often sweeter than all others. help can you expect on the part of a stricken-down It seems to have a claim on our affections. It is an child or broken-hearted woman? Such are they whom Its society must always help- -supporting them till they have object we have loved that is about to leave us. breath flutters, and it gives indications of a speedy dying. acquired strength, and gradually educating them into Already we hear its wail-the wind soughing among the self-dependence. FEMALE AFFECTION. [We extract the following anecdotes from Mrs. Child's interesting volume, "Biographies of Good Wives."] deadly venom had passed into her veins. She did not long survive this proof of her love. VASTNESS OF RAILWAY WORKS. THE great Pyramid of Egypt was, according to Diodorus Siculus, constructed by three hundred thousand; according to Herodotus, by one hundred thousand men: it required for its execution twenty years, and the labour expended on it has been estimated as equivalent to lifting 15,733,000,000 (fifteen thousand seven hundred and thirty-three millions) of cubic feet of stone, one foot high. Now, in the same measure the labour expended in constructing the Southern division only of the present London and North Western Railway if it be reduced to one common denomination, the result is 25,000,000,000 (twentylifted to the same height, being 9,267,000,000 (nine thousand two hundred and sixty-seven millions) of cubic feet more than was lifted for the Pyramid, and yet the English work was performed by about 20,000 men only, in less than five years. Again, it has been calculated by Mr. Lecount, that the quantity of earth moved in the single division (112 miles in length, of the railway in question, would be sufficient to make a footpath a foot high and a yard broad, round the whole circumference of the earth! The cost of this division of the railway in penny-pieces, being sufficient to form a copper kerb or edge to it. Supposing, therefore, the same proportionate quantity of earth to be moved in the 7,150 miles of railway sanctioned by Parliament at the commencement in 1848, our engineers, within about 15 years, would, in the construction of our railways alone, have removed earth They departed together for Philadelphia, where they sufficient to girdle the globe with a rod one foot high and were immediately married. But alas! the perfect happi- one hundred and ninety-one feet broad!-Stokers and ness they enjoyed was not to be of long duration. A Pokers. languor, which resisted all medical art, attacked the system of Mrs. Ross, and threatened to terminate her life. It was soon discovered that her lover had been wounded by a poisoned arrow, and the venom pervaded CAPTAIN ROSS was an officer in the English army during the American Revolutionary war. He was much attached to a young lady, whose engagements to him her parents refused to ratify. When military duty compelled him to cross the Atlantic, his lady-love, without apprising him of her intentions, resolved to follow him. For this purpose, she disguised herself in man's clothes, and took a passage for America. She arrived immediately after a battle had been fought between the Indians and the detachment to which Captain Ross belonged. Among the dead bodies, she quickly recognised the object of her search. He was wounded and senseless; but she discovered a slight pulsa-five thousand millions) of cubic feet of similar material tion of the heart. She applied her lips to the wound, from which she sucked the flowing blood until it was staunched. This remedy restored him to life. She had sufficient presence of mind to restrain her impetuous joy, well knowing how fatal sudden emotion might prove to one in his weak and languid condition. During forty days she watched over him with the most unremitting attention, completely disguised by her dress, and the artificial colouring of her complexion. During his illness, the young officer talked continually of the object of his affections, and repeatedly expressed his fears that he should not live to be united to her. When his health was sufficiently restored, the lady made herself known; and if she was tenderly beloved before she made such sacrifices, it will readily be believed that she was idolized now. all her blood. Her husband watched over her with the most tender solicitude; and as he saw one remedy after another fail to restore the health that had been so affectionately sacrificed for him, his hopes gradually settled into despair, and he died broken-hearted in the spring of 1778. The widow's grief was softened by the certainty of soon following him she had loved so fondly. She summoned sufficient fortitude to cross the Atlantic again, in order to implore the forgiveness of her parents. With them she languished a little while, and died. Her spirit rejoined her husband in July, 1779, when she was twenty-five years old. A monument is erected to her memory in Hammersmith church, recording these interesting events. Two instances of a similar kind are recorded in history, in which the victims were perfectly aware that they sacri ficed their own lives to save their husbands : Queen Eleanor, wife of Edward the First, being informed that the king was wounded with a poisoned arrow, drew forth the venom with her own lips, and died for him. Charing Cross, in London, takes its name from a cross which Edward erected to her memory. Some antiquarians say it was so called from the village of Charing, in which the monument was built; others deny the existence of any such village, and contend that it derived its name from being the resting-place of chere Reyne, or the dear queen. Sybella, wife of Robert of Normandy, showed the same courageous attachment to her husband. The prince being wounded in this shocking manner, was informed that recovery was impossible, unless the poison was sucked out. The amiable son of the Conqueror resolved to die, rather than allow any one to make the dangerous experiment. But while he slept, Sybella, his duchess, gently applied her lips to the wound; and before he awoke, the ENGLISH BEAUTY. LIFE, long and happy, to English beauty! Despite all that has been, or ever will be said of its fragility, its danger, its destruction, it is a blessed thing to look upon and live transferred from face to face. The bud comes forth as amongst. Talk of its fading! it never fades; it is but the blossom is perfected; and the bud bursts into blossom but to hide the falling leaves, fragrant amid the decay of the parent flower. Then the beauties of our country modesty; and the courtly maiden, set, as her birthright, are so varied. The peasant girl, gifted with pearl-like in a golden circlet, the intellectual face beaming intelligence; and the English matron, proud as Cornelia of her living jewels. Nor is the perfectness of English beauty confined to any class. In summer time you meet it everywhere-by the hedge-row, in the streets, in the markets, at the opera, where, tiers on tiers, hundreds and weep; and then you wonder whence they come, and upon hundreds of lovely faces glitter and gleam, smile bless your fortune that they so congregate to harmonize the sight in sweet accordance with the ear. ESTEEM AND REPUTATION. THE consideration we are held in, is owing to the effect which our personal qualities have on others. If these be great and exalted, they excite admiration; if amiable and endearing, they create friendship. We enjoy esteem much more than we do reputation; the one affects us nearly, the other lies more at a distance; and though greater, we are less sensible of it, as it seldom comes close enough to become a real possession. We acquire the love of people, who, being in our proximity, are presumed to know us; and we receive reputation (or celebrity) from such as are not personally acquainted with us. Merit secures to us the regard of our honest neighbours, and good fortune that of the public. Esteem is the harvest of a whole life spent in usefulness; but reputation is often bestowed upon a chance action, and depends most on success. |