Perhaps I have individualized enough. Let me generalize a while.

Not long since I received a letter from a gentleman of few years, but great promise, who had been raised in Arkansas, and was writing to me during his first visit to New England. The following passage occurs in one of his letters: "When I first came to the East, New England seemed a strange land-its people a distinct people, agreeing with the far West in nothing but different dialects of the same language and a few relics of the law." The same impression was pro. duced upon me when I came to the West. Every thing was radically, thoroughly, and essentially dif. ferent. The appearance of the country the manner of living-the courts the elections-the habits of the people their language and expressions-was strange, singular, and odd to me. Of course, all towns bear a resemblance to each other; but I speak of the country and its inhabitants. Here we have none of the broad, level, and luxuriant pastures-none of the trim hedges -none of the old and venerable stone walls, built for many years-which are seen among you. The few fields which dot the surface of Arkansas would hardly convey to you, or any Eastern man, the idea of cultivation. Round them runs a zigzag fence, built of rails, commonly called a Virginia fence-answering all the purposes required in a new country, though only capable of lasting five or six years. Within, the hugh black blackened stumps, or the tall skeletons of trees stand thick among the tall corn. The roads are rough often nothing but byepaths; and with only here and there a house scattered along them. There are no continuous lines and bodies of field land and meadow. You leave one ragged enclosure-and are again plunged in the deep gloom of the bottom, or the rough masses of upland forest. The dwellings of the people, too, are different. There are few of the commodious farm-houses which are to be found in the East; but the residence even of a rich planter con sists of a log-house for a dwelling, surrounded, in admirable disorder, with negro cabins, more resembling pigstyes, than any thing. To one house are frequently attached ten or fifteen of those cabins.Barns here are unknown. The corn and fodder of the farmer (for he makes no hay) are disposed of, the one in cribs built of logs, and the other in stacks.Here are no villages, with the tall spires rising far above the tops of the houses-no village bells-no town clocks. Here is no voting by ballot, but all elections are_conducted viva voce. Every thing, in short, which I can remember-every boyish recollec. tion, is at variance with the things around me here. I look back, and think of the stone-walls of the fine orchards of the barns and hay-mows and the huskings of the village church with its choir and its bass viol or its organ. None of them are here. No mowing-no making of hay-no cider press-no scythes, rakes, and pitchforks. (I have not seen a scythe in five years.) No prayers in the churches for the dead or the absent-no thanks for the returning wanderer. No merry sleigh bells-no rattling stages-no pomp and pageantry of militia musters. I am confident that were I to return now to New England, I should feel truly a stranger there. I should miss my horse and my gun-I should feel myself trammelled by grades and castes in society-I should be like a man just awakened from a long dream. *

*

A PERSIAN STORY.

In Sir John Malcom's most agreeable and instructive "Sketches of Persia" we meet the following highly amusing story, which, Sir John says, was related to him by his friend Hajee Hoosein, at a dreary spot in Persia, named the Valley of the Angel of Death.

"The

The Hajee informed his companion, that this was one of the most favourite terrestrial abodes of Azrael, (the Angel of Death,) and that here he was surrounded by Ghools, who are a species of monsters that feed on the carcasses of all the beings which he deprives of life. "The Ghooles," he added, "are of a hideous form, but they can assume any shape they please, in order to lure men to their destruction: they can alter their voices for the same laudable purpose." frightful screams and yells," said the Hajee, "which are often heard amid these dreaded ravines, are changed for the softest and most melodious notes: unwary travellers, deluded, by the appearance of friends, or captivated by the forms and charmed by the music of these demons, are allured from their path, and, after feasting for a few hours on every luxury, are consigned to destruction."

In conclusion, said the Hajee, "These creatures are the very lowest of the super-natural world; and besides being timid, are extremely stupid, and conse. quently often imposed upon by artful men. I will re. count you a story that is well authenticated, to prove what I say is just."

AMEEN OF ISFAHAN AND THE GHOOL.

"You know," said he, "that the natives of the Is. fahan, though not brave, are the most crafty and acute people upon the earth, and often supply the want of courage by their address. An inhabitant of that city was once compelled to travel alone and at night through this dreadful valley. He was a man of ready wit and fond of adventures, and, though no lion, had great confidence in his cunning, which had brought him through a hundred scrapes and perils, that would have embarrassed or destroyed your simple man of valour.

"This man, whose name was Ameen Beg, had heard many stories of Ghools of the Valley of the Angel of Death, and thought it likely he might meet one: he prepared, accordingly, by putting an egg and a lump of salt in his pocket. He had not gone far amid the rocks we have just passed, when he heard a voice crying, Holloa, Ameen Beg Isfahanee! you are going the wrong road; you will lose yourself: come this way: I am your friend Kerreem Beg: I know your father, old Kerbela Beg, and the street in which you were born.' Ameen knew well the power of the the Ghools had of assuming the shape of any person they choose; and he also knew their skill as genealo. gists, and their knowledge of towns as well as families; he had, therefore, little doubt that this was one of those creatures alluring him to destruction. He, however, determined to encounter him, and trust to his art for his escape.

"Stop, my friend, till I come near you,' was his reply. When Ameen came close to the Ghool, he said, 'You are not my friend Kerreem, you are a lying demon; but you are just the being I desire to meet. I have tried my strength against all men and all the beasts which exist in the natural world, and I can find nothing that is a match for me. I came therefore to this valley, in the hope of encountering a Ghool, that I might prove my prowess upon him.'

"The Ghool, astonished at being addressed in this manner, looked keenly at him, and said, 'Son of Adam, you do not appear so strong.' 'Appearances are deceitful,' replied Ameen; 'but I will give you proof of my strength. There, said he, picking up a stone from a rivulet, 'this contains a fluid; try if you can so squeeze it that it will flow out.' The Ghool took the stone, but after a short attempt returned it, saying, 'The thing is impossible.' 'Quite easy, said the Istaha, taking the stone, and placing it in the hand in which he had before put the egg: 'look there! and the astonished Ghool, while he heard what he took for the breaking of the stone, saw the liquid run from between Ameen's fingers, and this, apparently, without any effort.

"Ameen, aided by the darkness, placed the stone upon the ground while he picked up another of a dark hue. This, said he, 'I can see, contains salt, as you will find if you can crumble it between your fingers.' But the Ghool, looking at it, confessed he had neither knowledge to discover the qualities, nor strength to break it. "Give it me," said his companion impatiently; and, having put it into the same hand with the piece of salt, he instantly gave the latter, all crushed, to the Ghool, who, seeing it reduced to powder, tasted it, and remained in stupid astonishment at the skill and strength of this wonderful man. Neither was he without alarm, lest his strength should be exerted against himself; and he saw no safety in resorting to the shape of a beast, for Ameen had warned him that if he commenced any such unfair dealing he would instantly slay him; for Ghools, though long-lived, are not immortal.

"Under such circumstances, he thought his best plan was to conciliate the friendship of his new companion till he found an opportunity of destroying him. ""Most wonderful man!" said he, 'will you honour my abode with your presence? it is quite at hand: there you will find every refreshment; and, after a comfortable night's rest you can resume your journey.' "I have no objection, friend Ghool, to accept your offer: but, mark me, I am, in the first place, very passionate, and must not be provoked by any expres. sions which are in the least, disrespectful; and, in the second, I am full of penetration, and can see through your designs as clearly as I saw into that hard stone in which I discovered salt: so take care you entertain none that are wicked, or you shall suffer.'

"The Ghool declared that the ear of his guest should be pained by no expression to which it did not befit his dignity to listen; and he swore by the head of his liege lord, the Angel of Death, that he would faith. fully respect the right of hospitality and friendship.

"Thus satisfied, Ameen followed the Ghool through a number of crooked paths, rugged cliffs, and deep ravines, till they came to a large cave, which was dimly lighted. 'Here,' said the Ghool, 'I dwell; and here my friend will find all he can want for refreshment and repose.' So saying, he led him to various apart. ments, in which was hoarded every species of grain, and all kind of merchandise, plundered from travellers who had been deluded to this den, and of whose fate Ameen was too well informed by the bones over which he now and then stumbled, and by the putrid smell produced by some half-consumed carcasses.

of the cavern, and after being visible for a few yards, disappeared under ground.

"How shall I, thought Ameen, prevent my weakness being discovered? This bag I could hardly manage when empty; when full it would require twenty strong men to carry it:-what shall I do? 1 shall certainly be eaten up by this cannibal Ghool, who is now only kept in order by the impression of my great strength. After some minutes' reflection, the Isfaha nee thought of a scheme, and began digging a small channel from the stream towards the place where the supper was preparing.

"What are you doing?" vociferated the Ghool, as he advanced towards him; '1 sent you for water to boil a little rice, and you have been an hour about it. Cannot you fill the bag and bring it away? 'Certainly I can, said Ameen: 'if I were content, after all your kindness, to show my gratitude merely by teats of brute strength, 1 could lift your stream, if you had a bag large enough to hold it,' said he, pointing to the channel he had begun, 'here is the commencement of a work in which the mind of man is employed to lessen the labour of the body. This canal, small as it may appear, will carry a stream to the other end of the cave, in which I will construct a dam that you can open and shut at pleasure, and thereby save yourself infinite trouble in fetching water; but pray let me alone till it is finished,' and he began to dig. 'Nonsense!" said the Ghool, seizing the bag and filling it; 1 will carry the water myselt; and I advise you to leave off your canal, as you call it, and follow me, that you may eat your supper and go to sleep; you may finish this work, if you like it, to-morrow morning.'

"Ameen congratulated himself on this escape, and was not slow in taking the advice of his host. After having eaten heartily of the supper that was prepared, he went to repose on a bed made of the richest coverlets and pillows, which were taken from the store. rooms of plundered goods. The Ghool, whose bed was also in the cave, had no sooner laid down than he fell into a sound sleep. The anxiety of Ameen's mind prevented him from following his example; he rose gently, and having stuffed a long pillow into the middle of his bed, to make it appear as it he were still there, he retired to a concealed place in the cavern to watch the proceedings of the Ghool. The latter awoke a short time before daylight, and rising went, without making any noise, towards Ameen's bed, where not observing the least stir, he was satisfied his guest was in deep sleep; so he took up one of his walkingsticks, which was in size like the trunk of a tree, and struck a terrible blow at what he supposed to be Ameen's head. He smiled, not to hear a groan, thinking he had deprived him of life; but to make sure of his work, he repeated the blow seven times. He then returned to rest, but had hardly settled himself to sleep, when Ameen, who had crept into bed, raised his head above the clothes and exclaimed, 'Friend Ghool what insect could it be that has disturbed me by its tapping? I counted the flap of its little wing seven times on the coverlet. These vermin are very annoying, for though they cannot hurt a man, they disturb his rest!"

"The Ghool's dismay, on hearing Ameen speaking at all, was great; but that was increased to perfect fright when he heard him describe seven blows, any one of which would have felled an elephant, as seven flaps of an insect's wing. There was no safety, he thought, near so wonderful a man; and he soon afterwards arose, and fled from the cave, leaving Isfahance its sole master.

THE WYVILLES.

1.-GEORGE WYVILLE, ESQ. TO THE REV. FREDERICK WALSOND, HARTLEY RECTORY, DEVONSHIRE.

Leamington Spa, August.

MY DEAR FRIEND, -Don't be alarmed for the heafth of your old friend, when you see my letter dated froin this enlarged edition of the Hospital of Invalids. I am still sound, wind and limb, and almost as active with the weight of titty-six years on toy back as in the merry times of our youth, when you and I, Fred, with humility be it spoken, were a couple of as gay young tellows as one would wish to meet wuh on a summer's day. It does one good to recall old times, and that is one reason why you and I ate such inde. tatigable correspondents. I have writen you a letter on my birth-day every year for these thirty years, and received your unfailing answer in the Christmas week. That is what I call a right English spirit, Fred-ne. ver to give up an intimacy with an old friend, when you have found by experience that he is a good and true one. I have been inusing over some of our old

they improve every year. Some of them did not strike me much at the time; but now, after they have been bottled up for a quarter of a century, they have a fla. vour with them that none of one's newer incidents can equal. Do you recollect, Fred, when you and I, and Dick Breton and Jack Burn, came hoine, as hard as our nags would carry us, from Harley one night, and just got into college before the stroke of twelve? What a dark night it was, and how Dick kept boasting all the time of our gallop, that his horse was tresher than ever! And then do you recollect his consternation when he discovered that the hostier by mistake had mounted him, in the hurry and darkness, on the Black Jewel, that was on its way to run at Epsom races? It makes one laugh yet to think of Dick's rage, when an officer came next morning, and arres. ted him for horse-stealing. Ah! these were the times, my boy, for mirth and jollity: there is no such fun now-a-days. I don't believe any Oriel man has been had up for theft since the year of Dick Breton's exploit. How strangely that party is scattered now! Jack Burn keeps his ears warm with a judge's wig, and Dick Breton is a baronet and major-general, with ten thousand a year, eighteen halfpenny-faced children, and only the recollection of a liver. You and I, Fred, are changed least of any. You were always a quiet, comfortable sort of a fellow, and settled down as naturally as possible into a steady, respectable rector; and I have flourished a much as the rest of the vegetables in the fat fields of Glemsworth Hall. A squire, a parson, a judge, and a general, were four young fellows, upon four fiery horses, dashing through turnpikes, or over them, I forget which; -my favourite pace now is a quiet amble, and my charger a cob of fourteen hands. There is not such another punch in Suffolk. 'Twas given to me by Harry Travers; and as the rascal has behaved so infamously since, I think I ought to send him the pony back; but what can I do, Fred? he is as sure-footed as a mule, and warranted to carry sixteen stone. In short, his good qualities are innumerable-well bred, steady without the least taint of vice, and just in his prime. On reading this last sentence over, I see it is a little doubtful whether I mean the horse or the man. I mean the Galloway, Fredthe other has noble points about him, but he is cursedly ill broke in I'll tell you more about him some other time-I will only let you into the secret, that this same Harry Traves is the cause of my being here; there, that will set you gues-ing. I have told you already I am sound as a bell in health-and so I am; but notwithstanding that, I am afflicted with a very troublesome disease, in the shape of a daughter eigh.

Shakspeare wrote Cato. Remember me very kindly to my good friend, Mrs. Walsond, and my god-daugh. ter, little Jane; and believe me your very sincere, old friend, GEORGE WYVILLE.

2.-Miss Emily Wyville to Mrs. Margaret Bethel. MY DEAREST AUNT PEGGY, -I wrote you a very hurried note just before leaving home, telling you of our removal to this place. As to its being for the sake of papa's health, I don't believe a word of it; he is stronger and better-looking than I ever remember him. Ah! I can't help feeling that I am the cause of his leaving home, and I may say happiness, behind him; for 'tis quite melancholy, I assure you, to see how out of his element he seems among the butterfly people of this frivolous town. He walks up and down the street as if he had no object in life but to while way the time; and, though we have only been here two days, I am sure he is more heartily tired of it than I am.

Two days after that happy, happy dinner at Scarlock, every thing seened suddenly and unaccountably changed. My dearest friend!-the sweetest girl you ever saw in your lite!-Oh! aunt Peggy, how you would love her, it you knew her so well as I do!dear, dear Charlotte Travers was so good, so kind, so enchanting! In fact, ever since their old uncle, Mr. Dobbs, came to live at Scarlock, we have been more attached than sisters, and, for nearly halt a year, not a week passed without our meeting two or three times; and papa was so fond of her too. And her brother, Mr. Henry Travers, was a great favourite of his. They were both almost constantly at Glemsworth, and you may easily imagine what a comfort dear Charlotte was to me, as we have no near neighhours but themselves. I will describe my Charlotte to you as nearly as I can. She is a little taller than I am, which you would not be surprised at, for she comes of a very tall family. Her brother 's much tal er than Tom. I should think he was fully six feet high; but then he is so elegant and graceful, quite free from the awkwardness which is generally produced by great height. Her eyes are a deep, rich brown; not so dark or penetrating as her brother's, nor so proud and haughty-looking. Her sm le is very like his; and altogether, I am sure you would say, that Charlotte Travers is as beautiful as an angel.

Well, all this went on most delightfully till two days after our dinner at Scarlock, which I wrote you an account of, and then things went on very differently. Papa grew peevish and sullen; never laughed or joked with me as he used to do; never took me out for a