man) he was but the collecting-clerk of a manufactory; while Mary Lawson, brought up in a garrison depot, accustomed to the gay society and glitter of military life, could see no gallant attributes in a lover unconnected with it, and discarded her worthy, high-minded cousin, for the sake of a senseless, selfish being, who, in consideration of the very good dinners her father occasionally gave, and the pleasure of a nice girl's society in country quarters, affected to address her, and actually trifled with her affections, till, her father's death making his circumstances known, her military lover hastily broke off the affair, coldly regretting to a mutual acquaintance, that "his fortune would not admit of his marrying any woman who could not find her own kit." Now it was that Mary Lawson discovered the difference in the relative characters of her two lovers, and at the same time the fact, that, however we may be flattered into a preference of showy charms, wanting some real basis for affection, the flame we suffer from is superficial, as the object, a mere phosphorescent glare, that wounds no deeper than our self-love, and brings with it its antidote in the disgust and contempt with which it fills us. Her sole regret (a deep and lasting one) was for the weakness of her own judgment, or rather choice (for judgment had, alas ! nothing to do with it), and a sense of remorse for the true heart she had turned from her in her senseless vanity. At this moment, as she read over his letters fraught with intelligence and observation, full of racy,

healthful feeling and expression, scorning, in his deep love of truth, to flatter even her, she felt, as she had done a thousand times, since her own conduct had lost him to her, his immense superiority, and her own unworthiness of him. For some time she had not heard from him; report said he had become a principal in the firm he formerly served; and in her poverty and sorrow pride had put a veto on her communicating with him; and, believing that growing ambition would blot out whatever remnant of affection her own injustice had not crushed, it was only thus in secresy and silence that she refreshed her woman's heart with the sweet consciousness that once at least she had been truly loved, and by one whom, in her chastened and matured judgment, it appeared a most intense triumph to have been loved by. Someway this present, though strictly anonymous, associated itself in her mind with him, and renewed, she knew not wherefore, all the thoughts she had contended unavailingly to put away. But to be brief, their Christmas, if not a merry one, proved at least free from the want that had preluded it; and the New Year, like a new monarch, who cancels the judgments of his predecessor, from its very dawn, brought with it fresh hopes and brighter prospects to them. Unseen and unsuspected, Frank Townsend had made himself master of their circumstances-had learned the story of their perseverance, poverty, and patience; and with the faith not only of affection but of experience (believing that his cousin's heart

must be perfectly weeded of those frivolities that youth and vanity so often leave us to regret in after life), through the agency of sweet Mrs. Allworth had sounded it, and waited but a fitting opportunity to prove to her the unchangingness of his own. This was not (thanks to the ardour of their mutual friends) long in arriving. The Lawsons were spending the anniversary of the New Year at the hospitable miller's, who between dinner and tea amused himself by looking into his barn, farm-yard, &c., while Mrs. Allworthy, contrary to her usual custom of taking an afternoon's siesta, slipped on her cloak, clogs, and bonnet, and wrapping up the late invalid, Kate, in no end of shawls and furs, very anxiously requested Mary to finish a difficult bit of work she had in hand, and most unceremoniously slipped off. Hardly, however, had they gone, when a gig drove up to the door, and as Mary glanced from her work to the window, a mist seemed to gather on her sight, the work fell from her hands, and just as she was rushing from the room to escape the desired, yet dreaded, meeting, Frank Townsend met her at the door, and with something more than cousinly tenderness, led her back again. What passed between them is not for us to divulge. It is sufficient to say that, during the rest of the evening, Mary made no farther attempt to run away; and that, instead (as John Thorndyke had settled, and Mrs. Toms believed) of their goods coming to the hammer in default of his

rent, he duly received his money. Miss Lawson and her sister left Elmstead, as bride and bridemaid; and thus our Village Library remains a reminiscence to this day.

ON THE SPIRIT OF YOUTH IN THE

YOUNG AND THE OLD.

THE child is rich in hope, and longs to be a man; the man has his treasures in memory, and wishes that he had always been a child. We are all pleased to look back upon ourselves as schoolboys, and recal, with a mournful tenderness, those thoughtless, happy days when we had masters to instruct us that we were born to suffer and to die, but when the feeling was, that we had life within us, whose principle was enjoyment, and whose duration without end. Whether our school-days are the happiest of our lives is a contested question, but there can be no doubt, I think, as to those of them passed out of school. I have no great favour, I confess, for masters, and cannot conscientiously defend the agreeableness of lessons, or G