add to the pleasure or profit of another, all can give sympathy, true tears or kind smiles to the sorrowful or joyful heart. "A word spoken in season, how good is it!" How good-but what a trifle! Take care of the trifles, and the grand things will take care of themselves. He that shows himself a good economiser and manager in small things, will be the better prepared to deal with larger matters. Jean Paul has taught us to value all trifling blessings, for, says he, a hidden treasure is not of so much account as the penny for a rainy day; and Plutus's heaps are often less than his handfuls," which means, in plain English, Trifles are things of importance. J. M. W. "A FURNISHED COTTAGE TO BE LET." "LISTEN to this advertisement, which I have just been writing," said Clara Worthington to her sister Jane and their younger brother William : “▲ Furnished Cottage to be let, for three or four months; situated within two miles of Piccadilly, in a quiet lane surrounded by nursery-grounds. It is enclosed in a pretty garden, and is not overlooked from the road. A small greenhouse attached to the house; accommodation for a horse and chaise, and almost grass enough to feed a pony. References and terms, &c. &c.' 66 Do you think that will do, Jenny?" "I dare say it is quite right; but that is a very bald account of this dear pretty place," replied Jane, springing out of the window into the verandah, to take a comprehensive view of the little domain. "It gives no idea of the extreme beauty of our little nest. Does it, William ?" "Every bird thinks its own nest beautiful," replied William, sententiously; "but give me the advertisement, Clara dear, if I must take it to the Times' office; for I should be off," he added, looking very affairé for sixteen; "so, good bye, girls. Take care of yourselves; and expect me back by six." Jane ran with him to the gate, and then returned to the parlour, where her sister Clara was sitting, lost in thought. As Jane approached, Clara said, "If the advertisement be inserted in to-morrow's paper, depend upon it we shall have a host of answers the next day. Eh! sister Jenny? I begin to feel anxious about the people who "Yes," interrupted Jane; "I dare say there will be a host of answers;-and the day after, there will be a host of people come here, to run about the house and make rude remarks upon our dear old-fashioned furniture. And the children will scamper all over the garden, and pick the flowers, and trample on the beds. However, I will take care that they shall not go near William's flowers; for I will have Dido chained under the walnut-tree. Oh, Clara, I cannot bear the idea of letting our house!-it is such a desecration of the Lares, as poor papa would have said. Every one says that no good eyer comes of letting a furnished house." "But how is it that every one docs it, then?" asked Clara, smiling. VOL. VIII. No! you are quite right, I am sure, dearest. We all want change of air, especially William. I wish he were not to be an artist: the horrid air of that studio is enough to kill him. However, his maestro will not alter that. Old Mrs. West told me, yesterday, that if William were her boy she should send him to the seaside directly; this Brompton air is too warm and relaxing for him. Yes, Clara, we must hope the best from the advertisement. Who knows?—It may produce some amusement. Yes!-it will certainly bring forth some fun; for you may be sure we shall have bien de bétes curieuses come to answer the advertisement. People of all sorts and conditions ;-grand, absurd, silly, ridiculous, rich, poor, tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor, apothecary, ploughboy—thief, perhaps ! Think of that!" "May we not also have beautiful, clever, and charming applicants ?" asked Clara; "the generous, the wise, the good?" 66 Certainly. But in that case I should lose my heart; and it would not sound well to lose one's heart to-a lodger. No, I am determined to find them all disagreeable." "L'homme propose, et Dieu dispose," said Clara, as she sat down to the piano, while Jane went out of the room to help Phoebe with the raspberry-jam which that invaluable maid-of-all-work was preparing for their winter store. Clara, Jane, and William Worthington were orphans. Clara was just six-and-twenty; Jane, nineteen; and William, sixteen. They were all much attached to each other, and lived together on two hundred a-year, in the above-named "furnished cottage," at old Brompton. It was their own property, left to them by their father, a London physician. They had all been born in Elm Cottage, and their parents had died there. Every piece of furniture, every trifle, whether of use or of ornament, about the eight rooms of the house, was associated with some affectionate remembrance;—each poker was connected with some joke,-each hat-peg with some loving recollection; the chairs brought up long-forgotten fancies between their arms; and behind the folds of every curtain was hidden the spirit of a bygone pleasure. It was natural enough that Clara should be grave; that Jane should declare how much she hated the thought of leaving home; and that all their acquaintances should say, when they heard what was in project,-"Dear me! I wonder the young Worthingtons can think of letting that sweet little place of theirs!" Clara was a staid, matronly person for her age; D "It will be pleasant to have them back in the neighbourhood. Do not you think so, Clara ?" "It will be pleasant enough for the neighbourhood, I dare say," said Clara; "but as we hope not to belong to it for the next three or four months, it cannot make much difference to us, Jenny." "Not for three or four months, but-après ?” "Why, if I know anything of Mrs. Maurice, she will not remain in any place longer than that time. The Maurices will spend the winter at Brighton." "How do you know that ?" asked Jane. circumstances had conspired with nature to form her | England. They have been away three years. I should thus. She was born grave and prudent, and circum- not think they would let their house." stances had thrust more gravity and prudence upon her. Her mother died when she was eighteen, and she then became mistress of her father's household, and a mother to her sister and brother. Her father died two years before the date of this story; and since that period she had managed all the business of the family. She was handsome, and, during her father's life, had gone into society; but she seemed to rejoice when, after his death, the narrowness of their income shut them out from the round of parties and visiting to which she had been accustomed. Her manners were always quiet; and she was considered by most of her acquaintance as an excellent but uninteresting person. There were some, however, who thought that, for strength of mind, industry, and unobtrusive talent, few young women could compare with Clara Worthington; still it was agreed, on all hands, that Clara was not amiable. Why was this? Most people said that she was too cold-hearted and too proud to be amiable. Yet why did these very same people think her estimable? Jane was of a bright, impulsive character; with a piquante face and lively manners. She had the strongest affection for her sister and brother, and such gaiety of disposition that she was a dispeller of all sadness. Clara's soberness was often a trial to Jane, but then she could shake off her vapours by singing, or by gardening with William. William was rather like Jane in character, only not so mercurial or so graceful. William was a great observer of all things: Jane never observed anything that did not interest her; but her powers of perception were keen and quick where her feelings were concerned. William had a little dry humour; Jane loved fun, and was a little too fond of the ridiculous. They were the best friends in the world, and strove with each other which should love and honour Clara the most. William Worthington was pupil to a celebrated artist who had been his father's friend. His constitution was not strong, and by too close application to painting he had induced a general debility, which Dr. B, their medical man, desired to see removed as soon as possible, and he had therefore ordered him to the sea-side. Clara had at once decided that they must let their cottage; and advertized it accordingly. On the following morning, before going to town, William brought in the "Times," that his sisters might see the advertisement. After it had been read aloud, and speculated on, William departed, and the sisters were left alone. "Phoebe tells me, Clara dear, that the Maurices' house is being renovated; perhaps that is going to be let too,-or, do you think," she added, stealing a glance at Clara, as she was arranging the books in a cheffonier," or is it likely that the Maurices are coming to live here again?" Clara did not stop in her work, but replied, "I should think it very likely that they are coming to "Because I had a letter from George yesterday, in which he told me so. They are going to have part of a house with his mother." "Oh! you and George still correspond, do you?" asked Jane, curiously. Certainly, Jenny; because you were not inclined to receive him as a lover, I was not inclined to lose him as a friend. George is an excellent creature, although some bright eyes may not have the gift to see it yet." Jenny made a grimace, and said, "Yet!—No, nor ever!" "Well! I will not have you make faces at my friends," said Clara, laughing; "George Selby is under my protection." Oh, very well, I will treat him with the greatest respect when you are near! But how about the Maurices, Clara ?" "We can have nothing to do with the Maurices," said Clara, gravely. "I do not see why! We are poor, and they are rich; but that is no reason why!" Jane looked up, and found that Clara had left the room. "What is it, I wonder, which makes Clara dislike the Maurices?She used to be so much with them, I remember; and papa was greatly attached to Mr. Maurice. I should like to know the meaning of Clara's change. I do not like unreasonable changes," mused Jane; and while she was musing, Phoebe came into the room with a large tray full of pots of raspberry jam, which she said must "be tied up immediate." And, if you please, Miss Jane!" added Phoebe, "would you mind making the pie for to-day's dinner?-I have determined to clean out the verandah thoroughly to-day, as I shouldn't like the strangers to find anything not quite in the best order about the place. We haven't got as many hands here as they have at the Maurices', to be sure; but I'll warrant I make our little place look as well as their big one; and a deal more snug and cosy," continued Phoebe, taking a corner of her apron to wipe a fly-spot from the window. "I suppose," she added, in a low tone, "Miss Clara knows that the family is expected back ?" 'Yes, Phoebe; but that does not seem to affect her in any way." 'Lor, child! How you talk!-Seem!-Just as if any on us could tell what affects Miss Clara, when she has a mind that you shouldn't;-any hows, it's a "Oh! never mind what I mean, miss; I ain't a wery good un at elerquence, but a wampyre's a wampyre; and afore her face or behind her back I'd say it (if I was being martyrised for it at the stake), there ain't a bigger wampyre going, than Mrs. Herbert Maurice!!! No! there ain't a more mealy-mouthed, soft-spoken, cunning, hard-hearted, gaiety-loving wampyre than that lady, whose name I won't demean myself by saying any more." Jane stood transfixed between astonishment and amusement; but her love of the ridiculous prevailed, and she began to laugh; while Phoebe went out of the room to calm her indignation by scolding Dick, her satellite, who cleaned the knives and weeded the garden. On the following day a number of letters were forwarded to "C. W." (Miss Worthington,) in answer to her advertisement, inquiring terms, &c. Clara, in her business-like way, sent each of the applicants a copy of the letter containing all necessary particulars, which she had prepared in answer to such inquiries, and appointed two days during which the cottage might be seen. Jane having made up her mind that sea-air would be of great advantage to William, was eager to assist Phoebe and Clara in their endeavours to make the cottage look to the best advantage; while Dick and William, with the assistance of the hired gardener, made the greenhouse and the garden look so beautiful, that Jane could not enjoy the idea of leaving it to strangers. The poor girl was sadly tormented between her wish that every one should admire the place, and her regret that they were to leave it. On the morning of their first reception-day, William announced his determination to stay at home all day. "Not," he protested, "that he was curious about the people who were coming, but Mr. Crosby (his master) had recommended him to do so, because his sisters ought to have some man about them, when so many strangers were invading their home." Now, Jenny," continued he, in answer to her laugh at the word man, "I know I am only a boy of sixteen, but I am the best man among us; and so you must put up with me for the nonce. Or, if you do not think I shall be wanted, why "Nonsense! I would not be without you for the world;" replied Janc; " depend upon it, we shall have some rude people, and if they see that we have a coat belonging to us "A jacket, you mean." "Well, a jacket-and that its wearer is a youth of five feet eleven” "Six feet, if you please, Miss Jenny; I was mcasured last week." "Of six feet, then," continued Jane, "with tolerably broad shoulders, and a pretty budding moustache, it is likely they may refrain from impertinence." "It is very likely indeed!" added William, as he drew himself up, and arranged his collar before the glass, in the fashion of a dandy of sixteen; while Jane looked on, in approval of her brother's personal appearance. It must be admitted that he was a handsome, manly youth. "Let "There goes the bell!" exclaimed William. me peep out of the window and see who comes :— Dick is opening the gate,-enter two ladies and a gentleman;-while Dick is trying to spell the name on the card they have given him, they are looking round the garden." "Let me see!" said Jane. "Oh!-father, mother, and daughter, I suppose ;-daughter pretty." "No!" returned William. "Husband, wife, and mother-in-law. Wife sets up for a beauty, but is not one. But, let us sit down; and, pray, be found in some useless, lady-like employment, Jenny. I long to see how Clara will get on!" Phoebe brought up a card-"Mrs. Colonel Stark," read William, looking over Clara's shoulder. "Show them up!" said Miss Worthington; but they had not waited to be shown up. Mrs. Colonel Stark had opened the door of the breakfast-room, into which they had been shut by Phoebe; and had come up-stairs sans cérémonie, with her companions, and the whole party was in the middle of the drawing-room as Clara pronounced her order. She was somewhat astonished; but, before she could rise and invite them to take a seat, the elder lady began to walk about the room, speaking all the time, and occasionally staring at the Worthingtons. "We called in answer to your note, ma'am-Mrs. Colonel Stark-you see, ma'am!" pointing to her card. "Your terms suit us very well. We like the situation too;" dragging back the curtain to get a better view of the garden. "Your grounds are pretty, too :-I think this room will do, Fanny ?" turning to the younger lady who accompanied her. "It's very small, mamma!" drawled the young lady, as she sank upon a sofa, and surveyed the room and everything in it through her eye-glass; at length she dropped her glance upon Clara, and said, with a lisp of the most childish kind, "The drawing-room is larger and more stylish, I suppose?" "This is our drawing-room, and we have nothing stylish about our house;" replied Clara, with a nonchalance that effectually silenced the lisping lady. Mrs. Colonel Stark then seated herself at the piano, without asking permission, and discovered that it was an excellent one; whereupon she said, "Pretty good!" and, turning round upon the music-stool, she faced the company with one twirl, and began to examine the room again. It was one of those simple, oldfashioned, yet elegant and comfortable rooms, in which a person of fine taste, whatever might be his rank, would feel at home. Nothing was splendid, but all was in good taste, and bore the stamp of the genius loci. It was just such a room as Mrs. Colonel Stark had never inhabited, and could not appreciate; yet she felt an indescribable something, as her eyes glanced rapidly around, that forbade her to think that I think it's tasty, and countrified, and all that," he replied, staring at Jane with marked approbation. That young lady, quite unconscious of his gaze, was making a rapid caricature of the whole party, under pretence of continuing a drawing which was before her. Mrs. Colonel Stark, as soon as she saw how "dear Blake" was occupied, tried to divert his attention, and requested to see the bed-rooms. Clara rose to lead the way; Mrs. Stark and " Fanny" followed; the gentleman was inclined to remain where he was, but Mrs. Colonel Stark called out, "Now, Blake, we want you!"-and he was obliged to follow her. When William and Jane were left alone, the former uttered the word "Puppy!" while the latter held up her sketch in triumph. "A puppy!-Is he? I did not notice him much; I must examine him. My impression is that he is nearly an idiot." the two gentlemen and the lady whom they had observed from the window. The last-mentioned personage ought, in due deference to her age and sex, to be mentioned first. She was a quiet, slow-moving woman, of about sixty. Her figure was tall, and she had the remains of great personal beauty. She entered the room without examining the furniture, but glided up to Jane, and took a seat beside her, looking with a curious sort of interest into her face. Jane, who did not know Mrs. Maurice, and who had taken it for granted that this lady must be she, sustained her scrutiny with a pretty, halfpleased sort of embarrassment. She felt that those mild grey eyes would judge her favourably; and she was glad to be an object of interest to an old friend of her father. She held the card which she had taken from Phoebe, but she did not look at it; there was no occasion to do that; for she was certain that the lady-like but somewhat awful-looking woman beside her was-" the wampyre!" A multitude of vague thoughts and feelings passed through her mind, all connected with this person, who seemed to have some sort of mysterious influence on her sister, but whose presence had an irresistible charm for her; so that she did not turn away from her gaze, but met it with one of her bright smiles. The two gentlemen, in the meantime, stood looking, the one at the various articles in the room, the other at a picture of Clara, taken some years previously. The latter was the gentleman whom William Wor "I dare say he takes me for a piece of the furni-thington had recognised as Mr. Herbert Maurice. ture," said Jane, laughing. "But here are some more people come to see the house. Two gentlemen and an old lady, distinguished-looking men. I am sure I have seen one of them before. Who is thatthe taller one-who is looking up at the house so eagerly? Do you not know him, William? I am sure I remember the face." "I think I must have seen him before. Why, Jenny!-I do believe it is young Maurice!" "Mr. Herbert Maurice, who used to send me bon Lons, and let you ride his horse ?" He advanced a step or two, with outstretched hand, to greet the friend of his childhood, but he had not boldness enough to proceed, when he found that Mr. Maurice had not observed him; he stopped in the awkward attitude of one who is ashamed of being precipitate, for fear he should be thought impertinent. He was baffled, and retired to a window to look into the garden and try to think "young Maurice” rude. Young Maurice" was a good specimen of an English gentleman; tall, with a finely-proportioned figure, in which it was difficult to decide whether "Yes. What a fine handsome fellow he is, by strength or elegance predominated; his bearing was Jove.!" exclaimed the boy, with the enthusiastic ap-imposing from its simple dignity, and attractive from proval which we commonly vouchsafe to merit akin to its unassuming repose. His every movement was our own, or which we fondly suppose to be so. "He striking, from its perfect decision and ease. A fool, used to be very kind to me when I was a child. wonder whether he will remember me now?" "Do you know, William, I fancy Clara will not be pleased at any of the Maurice family coming here to hire the house. I am sure she has taken a dislike to the whole family." "Dislike the Maurices! Impossible, my dear child! I am sure they were great favourites of hers once," said William, with energy. Ia knave, a slave, or a tyrant, could not stand or walk like Herbert Maurice; for high intelligence and principle, noble self-reliance, and deference to others, were legible in his whole bearing. His face was by no means what is termed handsome, though the brow and eyes were good. It was bronzed a little by travel, and worn a little by study, or sorrow, or sickness; but it was not a solemn, or sentimental, or melancholy countenance. The eyes were full of thought, even when he smiled; and the mouth never lost its unmistakeable curve of feeling, even when he was most business-like. As he stood looking at the portrait of Clara Worthington, his first, his only love, the poetic upper-lip that trembled with emotion was a strange contrast to the steadfast, somewhat haughty and ob Humph," said Jane, musingly; "Clara does not change her opinion without cause. I wonder why Phoebe, who knows everything, calls old Mrs. Maurice a 'wampyre!'" William gave vent to a loud laugh, just at the moment when Phoebe opened the door, and ushered in "This lady, madam, is Miss Jane Worthington. stinate attitude into which he had drawn up his stately | Jane was vexed with herself for not being cold in her form to confront her. Again he looked into those manner. bright, kind eyes, and admired the skill of the painter who had contrived to unite in his picture the womanly-Miss Jane Worthington, Mrs. Selby." dignity, and the frank, girlish beauty, which were so characteristic of Clara at twenty, when she was "the starlight of his boyhood," the embodied ideal of noble womanhood, beside whom all other girls, however pretty or charming in the eyes of others, were in his "mere girls," and mostly "inane" and “little missish.” Clara was a woman "Nobly planned To warn, to comfort, to command." Mr. Herbert Maurice had not looked at the portrait many seconds before his attitude lost its haughty stiffness, and he could have thrown himself on his knees before it. He could not believe, when he looked on that broad, noble head, so graciously inclined to commune with the spectator, that Clara had ever deceived any one. He could not believe that such eyes belonged to a heartless and cold nature. "A vain coquet!" he thought within himself; "impossible! --she could not be a living lie, and look like truth itself. Let me think that I have been a fool, a madman, anything, so that I may never more doubt that Clara was, and is, all that woman should be! But what is that to me, now? She is lost to me for ever!" And he turned slowly away. The room was little altered since he had seen it last. His quick eye had recognised Clara's brother and sister on entering the room; but he had not stopped to consider them, for his memory had carried him at once to the picture, at the execution of which he had presided, and which still hung in the old place. There, too, was the couch opposite to it, on which he used to recline that he might see the face he loved best in the world whenever he looked up. On that couch lay working materials, and a small box which he knew to be Clara's. How mechanically he bent to take up that little plaything of former days! As he was about to grasp it, he heard some one address him; and he stood up once more erect, and apparently unmoved. "Herbert! Have you forgotten your promise to introduce me? However, I cannot be mistaken," continued the old lady, who had been engaged in exchanging a few words with Jane. "This young lady is Miss Worthington ?" "Not yet, madam, I believe!" replied Mr. Herbert Maurice, with a peculiar smile. "Miss Worthington is not in the room; and I myself stand in need of an introduction to this lady, I fear; although," he added, with a bow to Jane, "I remember her perfectly, in spite of the absence of a straw hat and a pinafore." "I remember Mr. Herbert Maurice's bon bons very distinctly; and my recollection of himself is scarcely more dim," replied Jane, laughingly; and she held out her hand to him. She was sorry for having done so, directly afterwards;-perhaps Clara did not wish them to become intimate with the Maurices; she might have been civil without being cordial; and poor The surprise of the two ladies was mutual; for now Mrs. Selby recognised her son's description of his lady love. Jane, indeed, was incautious enough to show her surprise on her countenance. Mrs. Selby said, with a smile, "Who did you fancy I was?" "I-I thought you were Mrs. Maurice," said Jane. Indeed! I thought you knew her." "No! During the time that Mrs. Maurice used to visit here, I was in Scotland." It was in Scotland that my son had the honour of making your acquaintance, I believe," returned Mrs. Selby, with a look which made Jane turn her eyes away, and wish that this very delightful old lady were not George Selby's mother. Mrs. Selby, seeing that the name of her son embarrassed her new acquaintance, began to speak of the object of her visit. "You know, perhaps, my dear young lady, that my old friends the Maurices are returning to their house in this neighbourhood. My eldest daughter has lately married young Maurice, here;" waving her hand towards the part of the room where her two companions stood talking to William. "The young couple wish to get a furnished house, for a few months, near Maurice-court; we saw your advertisement in the Times,' and answered it, without any suspicion that the house advertised was that of a family whose name I have heard so often. We should like—that is, my daughter and her husband would very much like to take this house for the time specified; but they will regret your absence from the neighbourhood very much." Jane bowed, and said that they wished to remove to the sea-side on account of their brother's health. She proceeded to say that her sister Ciara was at that moment engaged with some persons who had, like Mrs. Selby, come to see their cottage. "Oh! my dear, pray do not let her decide in their favour, until she has listened to the claim of an old acquaintance. Maurice will be so vexed to lose it, I am sure. Though he says little, I can see, by the expression of his face, that he wants to have the house; and Mary would be charmed with this delightful room, and the appearance of the whole place. It is a perfect bijou!" (To be continued.) TWO CHAPTERS FROM THE LIFE OF THE BY MISS PARDOE. EVERY student of French history is familiar with the fact, that when upon the death of Henry IV. his widow, Marie de Medicis, induced the Parliament of Paris to invest her with unlimited powers during the regency which devolved upon her from the minority of her young son, Louis XIII., she selected as her prime minister a Florentine gentleman named Concino |