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. Jk . jt ,-^—^ volume ii. | & iFamUa Jlftosqpiuper : Ecfcotctr to mterature, Eartcultuve, J&eefiaulcs, Saturation, jForriflu ant 3Domeetic J-nteUifience, scc. j NUMBER 22. M C. R. HANLEITER. IP © £ f K Y . For the “Southern Miscellany.” MY MARY'S GRAVE. IT TALCT.AB. ‘There stands in yonder leafy grove An oak full old and brave, Whose houghs wave, aad and slow, above The spot of earth that most I love. And shade nty Mary’s grave. There is a Mocking-bird that sings Upon that old oak tree, And while ho spreads his light, grey wings, The little grove around him rings With sweetest melody. And as, at early dawn, I hear His voice, on zephyrs driven, Methinksit tells, in accents clear, That Mary, who was sleeping there, Has passed away to Heaven! Savannah, August 16,1843. r a—cts— —mmmwtmmmm TTAtLIE©, From the Washington Capitol. ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. BT HORATIO KIN’S. “Honor and shams from no condition rise; Act well your part, there all the honor lies.” ” Say what you will, Mrs. Lincoln, my daughter shall never marry a mechanic— that point is settled beyond question. What right has a mechanic to seek her hand 1 — She moves, now, in the first society ; and I intend she shall never unite herself in mar riage with any one who is not her equal, at least, in rank.” “ Well, they do sav,” replied Mrs. Lin coln, ” that George Hamlden has actually offered himself to her, or is on the point of doing-n; and if such be the fact, and my advice were asked in the matter, I should say, let Mary accept him by all means ; she can never do better, and may do much worse. As to your remark about rank, if you intend to intimate that bis rank is not equal to that of your daughter, I must lie allowed, frank ly, to differ from you. True, George is a mechanic; but I have yet to learn that a well educated and accomplished young man, j like him, is any tire less a gentleman ; orthe j less entitled to be considered as of the * first society,’ for lieing a mechanic.” “ Oh, now, you needu’t talk so to me,” said Mrs. Otis; ** you’ll Hever make me be lieve a mechanic is a gentleman, in the true acceptation of the word. There may be some who are tolerably educated, and know how to appearquiterespectably when thrown into company ; but there is something to my mind, so vulgar in the idea of a mechanic, that I can never consent to any arrangement which would tend to introduce them into the first society. Last of all, shall any one, with my permission, ever salute me as his mother-in-law. Pshaw ! Mts. Lincoln, the tiling is preposterous.” “ It doubtless appears so to you, Mrs. Otis; but your views,on this subject,are all wrong. You cannot have examined it in its true light, and reflected properly upon it. Pray, whom do you consider as the only persons i who should compose what you cab tiie ‘first i society ?’ ” I “ Why, professional men, of urg *_ SU ck j ns lawyers, doctors, „ wetl I nnd othe| ,nen ° - piea s ' re - iv * merchants, j , v . who a tie living upon their mon- j •*’ without any particular employment. 1 j do mot wish to be understood as saying that j mechanics, farmers, and the like, are not res pectable in their places, Mrs. Lincoln ; all i ■ask is that they move in their proper sphere and not intrude themselves where they do not belong.” Yes, 1 understand : you prefer, as an associate for yourself and daughter, the pol ished gentleman of leisure,’ to an honest, in telligent and industrious mechanic. And who are many of these gentlemen of leisure, who are admitted into, and caressed by, your -first society V Bankrupts in property, mor al principle, and every thing else, except brass and bristles; creatures, who would pass currently for puppies every where, /except the ’first society’) though but for *heir loquacity, some might be taken for goats in breeches, or ourang-outangs trom *be asiatic islands ] Against your lawyeis, doctors and divines, I have nothing to say: jn your own language I respect them all in their places.’ But as distinct classes in so ciety, neither is a whit better, or more res pectable, than the hatdy mechanics and yeo manry of our country generally. If there be any distinction, the producing classes are certainly entitled to the highest considera tion.” , , “ Well, Mrs. Lincoln, if you don t beat all! Why your doctrine, carried out, would destroy all distinctions in society. Only think of a fashionable assembly, composed of gentlemen of the different learned profess ions, farmers, mechanics, merchants, trad ers, speculators, gamblers, and what not, each and all with their female associates, congregated on terms of perfect equality! Wouldn’t it present a beautiful picture f 11 But you are a little too fast, replied Mrs. Lincoln; “ l am not the advocate of any such equality as that, by any means.— On the contrary, I wish to see what passes for the ’ first society’ among us, purged ot •its impurities, and the worthy mechanic as sume the vank he deserves in the world. I 7|rot})d have the frown of the virtuous and good forever fixed upon the unprincipled and dissolute, whatever their occupation in j life. External accomplishments, either with i or without wealth, should never serve as a passport to a polluted heart into the bosom of respectable society. While honest in dustry should ever he regarded with the smile of commendation, its antagonist, indo lence, should find no favor whatever.” “ Well, it is all folly to talk to me. My mind is made up. Mary is not going to have George Hamblen, nor any other me chanic. She shall live and die an old maid first.” “ \ ery well; it is no particular concern of mine, said Mrs. Lincoln ; “ but wc shall soon see whether Mary is herself disposed to regard his advances with favor. Indeed, I have already seen enough to satisfy me that George has nothing to fear, so far as she isToticerned. It is not hmg since I chanced to observe litem very closely engag ed in conversation by themselves. * It was on the occasion of Mary’s late visit to her aunt s. Leaning, with clasped hands upon his atm, she was looking up into his face with an earnestness of expression that at once convinced me of her devotedness to him. But here she comes ; let us hear what she has to say for herself.” Mary had now just returned from a short walk. Well knowing the prejudice of her mother against mechanics, she resolutely in sisted that Mrs. Lincoln must have mistaken her cousin Lorenzo for Mr. Hamblen, as the person with whom she was promenading while at her aunt’s. At this moment the door-bell rang, and a gentleman was immediately conducted into the room, whom Maty recognized and in troduced as Mr. Williams, a young- physi cian from a neighboring village. Mary had met him at a recent party ; and he had call ed, in passing, just to present Ids compli ments to her, and see that she suffered no inconvenience from her exposure to the damp air on the night of the party. His age was about twenty two—his stat ure a little above the medium height—com plexion light—eyes and tiose prominent— and his expression altogether agreeable. After a half-hour of pleasant conversation, he took Ids leave, not, however, without re ceiving and accepting a very pressing invita tion from Mrs. Otis, in which her daughter, of course, modestly joined, to call again. He had no sooner left the house than Mrs. Otis embraced the occasion to draw’ a lively comparison between him, as of one of the learned professions, and mechanics. With an air of self-satisfaction, she said— ” Show me your mechanic, Mrs. Lincoln, who is able to convince like Dr. Williams. Did you not observe the variety and extent of his knowledge, his happy faculty of com munication and |iolisli of manners. Talk not to me of your mechanics I In point of every thing pleasant and agreeable—nay, even valuable, in a gentleman, I will place Dr. Williams, little as I have Been of him, against any dozen mechanics you can pro duce. Mrs. Lincoln not disposed to continue the controversy further, ar.d ever willing to ac knowledge merit wherever she sa w it, very cheerfully concurred in tire favorable opin ion expressed Dr. Williams—adding, however, that there were many mechanics fully equal to him in extent of knowledge, readiness of communication, and polish of address. It is proper, to remark here, that Augus tus Otis, Esquire, the husband of lady Otis, was a gentleman of great good sense, and a lawyer of distinguished ability. Himself the son of a worthy mechanic, be was never heard to speak of mechanics in any other than terms of the greatest respect. More over, had he been present, there is little risk in saying Mrs. Lincoln would have found him heartily concurring with her in support of her cause. Dr. Williams soon became intimate at the house of Mr. Otis, who with his lady, spared no pains to make his visits agreeable to bim. It was also quite apparent that Mary contrib uted her part toward the same end, with the most perfect cheerfulness and good will. As the writer is not at liberty to disclose further what transpired in the innocent and friendly intercourse between Mary and the accomplished young doctor, at this point, “ Where thought meets thought, ore from the lips it start, And each warm wish springs mutual from the heart,”— leaving this part of the picture to the imagi nation of the reader—we come directly to the fact that, all parties joyfully assenting, the harts were duly published, and the day of marriage agreed on. Mary never looked more beautiful than on the morning of her marriage day—a bright morning in May— “ Heaven was in her eye, In every gesture dignity and love.” At the appointed hour, the bride and bride groom—Mary Otis and young Williams, at tended by her cousin Lorenzo and a young female associate—stepped into n carriage, in readiness at the door, and hastened to wait upon the minister of the parish, resid ing at the village, about eight miles distant. In the meantime a small party of friends, Mrs. Lincoln among the rest, assembled at the house of Mr. Otis to ofler their congrat ulation to the happy couple on their return, and tender the usual civilities of all such joy ous occasions. The minister soon performed his part of MADISON, MORGAN COUNTY, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, AUGUST 26, 1843. the ceremony, when husband Bnd wife, with their attendants immediately returned and were met at the door by Mrs. Lincoln, who had volunteered formally to introduce the newly married couple to those in waiting to greet them. Conducting them at once into the pres ence of the company, assembled in the draw ing-room— “ Allow me, ladies and gentlemen,” said Mrs. Lincoln, “to intiodnre you to Doctor Williams,better known ns Mi*GeorgeHam hlen, the mechanic—editor, printer and pub lisher of the “ Village Chronicle”—and his lady, hitherto the accomplished Miss Otis.” All eyes w ere fixed on Mrs. Otis, who stood half amazed, in doubt whether to cred it what she had just heard as the sober re ality ; or whether rfi occasion had been seized on by Mrs. Lincoln to play off an in nocent hoax at her expense. She was soon, however, convinced that the gentleman, now her son-in-law, whom she had known and so highly esteemed as A Doctor Wil liams,” was, indeed, none other than plain Mr. Hamblen, the mechanic. Collecting herself, and resolving to make the best of the somew hat avykwmd position in which she found herself placed— ” I perceive,” said she, taking by the band and addressing Mr. Hamblen, “ that 1 have, though I trust not with your approbation, been deceived, both in your name and occu pation. Be it so. Had I regrets to ex press, this is no place for them—it is now too late. With mechanics, I had associated the idea of ignorance and want of gentle manly accomplishments. Hence my unfa vorable opinion of them as a class. But in you I observed no deficiency of education ; I liked your apparent sincerity; I was pleas ed with your deportment—yea, more, I en tertained the most entire confidence ir. your honesty and purity of your moral principles. Why. then, should I hesitate? The little deception which, I am well aware, has been practised at the instance of her who is now your wife-—borne on by friends, not except ing her own father, in whom she confided— is of slight moment. Only lei there be nrt further deception—as I am sure none is in tended—and I can most cheerfully forgive and forget what has passed. Take my daughter; it is your choice—it is hers. “ To you, my daughter, now just entering upon new and important relations in life, in the laengua oe of another, let me advise you that the good wife is one who is strictly and conscientiously virtuous; she is humble nnd movies t from reason and conviction, submis sive from choice, and obedient front inclina tion. What she acquires by love, site pre serves by prudence. She makes it bet de light to please her husband, being confident that every tiling that promotes his happiness must, iti tire end, contribute to her own.— She ad ways rejoices in his prosperity, and by he r tenderness and good humor, lessens his cares and afflictions. Go—and may Heav en bless you both.” Yo ung Hamblen, as may W’ell be suppos ed, w as not free from embarrassment on this occat -ion. Addressing Mrs. Otis— “ You are correct,” said lie, “ in the opin ion'that I yielded, with great reluctance, to the little artifice which has been employed. I fin ally assented only on the strongest as surance, from those whom I knew to be your best friends that I should be held blame less; in the matter. If I have sailed into port under false colors, it was not from my own inclination, but in obedience to a command ing signal from the very prize I have cap tured.” Capitol Hill, D. C. | “IFMYHUSBAND WERE TODOSO.” A DOMESTIC INCIDENT. “ Poor woman ! What a thousand pities it is for her !” and Mrs. G rimes, with feel ing—“ I wonder how she stands it. If my husband were to act so, it would kill me.” “ I never could stand it in the world,” ad ded Mrs. Pitts. “Itis a dreadful situation for a woman to be placed in. Mr. Larkins used to he otie of the best of men, took the best possible care of his family. For years there was not a happier woman in town than his wife. But now it makes one’s heart ache to look at her. Oh ! it must be one of the most heart-breaking things in the world to have a drunken husband.” ” Well, all I’ve got to say,” spoke up Mrs. Peters, with warmth, “ is, that 1 don’t pity her much.” “ Why, Mrs. Peters! How can you talk so?” “ Well, I don’t ! Any woman who will live with a drunken husband, don’t deserve pity. Why don’t she leave him ?” That is easier said than done, Mrs. Pe ters.” “ I should think it a great deal easier than to live with a drunken brute, and have her life tormented out of her. If my husband were to do so, I reckon him and 1 would part before twenty-four hours.” . Now Mrs. Peters’ husband was a most excellent man, and a sober man, withal.— And his wife was tenderly attached to him. In regard to his ever becoming a drunkard, she had as little fear as of his running off and leaving her. Still, when she- made her last remark, she looked towards him, for he was present, with a stern and significant ex pression on her countenance. This was not really meant for him, but for the imaginary individual she had supposed as bearing the relation towards her of a drunken husband. ” You would ! would you 1” Mr. Peters, replied to the warmly expressed resolution uttered by his wife : “Yes, that I would!” half laughingly and half seriously retorted Mrs. Peters. “ You don’t know w hat you are talking about,” spoke up Mrs. Grimes. “Indeed, then, I do ! I consider arty wo man a fool who will live with a drunken husband. For my part, I have not a spark of sympathy for the wives of drunkards—l mean those who live with the men who beg gar and abuse them. Mere disgusting brutes —the very sight of whom ought to turn a decent woman’s stomach. After a while the subject was dropped, and at the close of the social evening, rite friends separated and went to their own homes. It was, perhaps, about two months from the period at which this conversation occur red, that Mr. Peters left his home early in the evening to attend a political meeting— politics at the time tunning high, and hard eider flowing freely as water. He was in the habit of attending such meetings, and of partaking of his portion of the cider, and at times of something a little stronger ; hut as he was a sober man anti a man, too, of strong good sense and fiirn ptinciples, the thought of his ever partaking too freely ne ver crossed the mind of his wife : Regular in his habits, he was rarely out after ten o’clock, on any occasion. But this time ten came, and eleven, but lie was still sway. This was a circumstance so unusual that his wife could not help feeling a degree of uneasiness. She went to the door, lis tened for him after the clock had struck eleven, nnd stood there for some time, ex pecting every moment to hear the sound of his footsteps in the distance. Blit she wait ed in vain, anti at last re-entered the house with a troubled feeling. At last the clock struck twelve, and al most at the same time, she heatd her hus band at the door endeavoring to open it with his dead-latch key. In this he was not suc cessful from some cause, etui thinking that she might have turned the key, Mrs. Peters went quietly and opened the door for him. She found that she had not locked if. As site lifted the latch, the door was thrown suddenly against her, and her hus band came staggering in. As he passed her, he struck against the wall of the pas sage—rebounded—struck the other side, and then fell heavily on the floor. The dreadful truth instantly flashed upon her. He was drunk. For a moment her heart censed to heat, her head reeled, and she had to lean against the wall to keep from falling. Then all the tender emo tions of her heart rushed freely into activi ty. It was her own husband who lay be fore her. by the master-spirit of strong drink. With almost super-human strength, she raised hint up, although a large man, and supported him with her arm until she got him up stairs, and laid upon a bed. By this time he seemed perfectly stupid ; and only mumbled incoherent replies to the frequent ar.d tenderly urged importunities of his wife. After some time she got him undressed and in bed. But he grew more and more stupid every moment. “ O, what if he should die !” the poor wife moaned anxiously, wide the tears that had at first gushed out still continued to flow freely, fcihe then got camphor and chafed his temples with it. She also wash ed his fat e with cold water, and tried vari ous means to mouse him from the lethargy of drunkenness. But ali to no purpose. At last, despairing of success site lay down beside him,still in tears,threw her arm around his neck and laid her face tenderly against hits. She had lain thus for about five minutes, when her husband called her name in a whisper. Oh, how eagerly she did listen after her response to his call. “Jf my husband were to do sol” As he said this, still in a whisper, but a vety ex pressive one, he looked her steadily in the face with a roguish twinkle of the eyes, and a quivering of his lips, the muscle of which he could with difficulty restrain from wreath ing those expressive organs into a merry smile. Mrs. Peters understood the whole scene in a moment, and boxed her husband’s ears soundly on the spot, sot very joy, while he laughed until his sides ached as bad as his ears. In all discussions upon the various unfor tunate relations of man and wife, Mrs. Pe ters was very careful how she declared her course of action, were she placed in similar circumstances. If, in any case she was led unthinkingly to do so, the remark of her husband with a peculiar inflection of the voice— "Oh, yes! If my husband were to do so” had the happiest effect imaginable, and in stantly put an end to the unprofitable dis cussion. Marriage. —l look upon a man’s attach ment to a woman who deserves it, as the greatest possible safeguard to him in his dealings with the world; It keeps him from all those small vices which unfettered youth thinks little of, but which certainly, though slowly, undermine the foundations of better things, till in the end, the whole fabric of right and wrong gives way under the assults of temptation. INCIDENT OF THE REVOLUTION. In the summer of 1779, during one of the darkest periods f ourrevolutibnary struggle, in the then small village of g——, (which now bears amoredigiiifiedtitle,)in this State, lived John V. one of the finest and truest patriots within the limits of the “ Old Thir teen,” and deep in the confidence of Wash ington. Like most rtien of his time and substance, he had furnished himself with arms and ammunition sufficient for the males of his household. They consisted of himself, three sons, and about twenty-five negroes. The female part of his family consisted of his wife nnd daughter Catha rine, about eighteen years of age, the hero ine of our tale, and several slaves. In the second story of his dwelling house, imme diately over the front door, was a small room called the “armory,” in which the arms were deposited, and always kept rea dy for immediate use. About the time at w hich we intioduce our story, the neighbor hood was much annoyed by the nocturnal prowling and depredations of numerous Tories. It waenn a calm, bright Sabbath afternoon of the said summer, when Judge V, and his family, with the exception of his daugh ter Catharine, and an old indisposed slave, were attending service in a village church. Not a breath disturbed the serenity of the atmosphere—no sound profaned the sacred ness of the day ; the times were dangerous, and Catharine had locked heiself and the old slave in the house, until the return of the family from church. A rap was heard at the front tftior. “ Surely,” said Catha rine to the slave, “ the family have not come home ; church cannot he dismissed.” The rap was repeated. “ I see what it is,” said Catharine, as she ran up stairs into the ar mory. On opening the window and look ing down, she saw six men standing at the front door and on the opposite side of the street, three of whom were Tories, who for merly resided in that village; their names were Van Zamir, Finley and Sheldon ; the other three were strangers, but she had rea son to believe them of the same political stump from the company in w hich she found them. Van Zandt was a notorious rharacter and the number and enoimity of his crimes had rendered his name infamous in that vicini ty. Not a murder or robbery was commit ted within miles of S . that he did not get the credit either of planning or execu ting. The characters of Finley and Shel don w'ere also deeply stained with crime, hut Van Zandt was a master spirit of ini quity- The appearance of such circum stances must have been truly alarming to a young lady of Catharine’s age, if not to any lady young or old. But Catharine V. pos sessed her father’s spirit—the spirit of the times. Van Zandt wns standing on the step, rapping at the door, while his compan ions were talking in a whisper on the side walk on the opposite side of the street. “Is Judge V. at home?” asked Van Zandt, when ho saw Catharine at the win dow above. “ He is not,” said 6he. “We have business of pressing impor tance with him, and if you will open the door,” said Van Zandt, “we will walk in nnd remain till he returns.” “ No,” said Catharine, 44 when he went to church, he left particular direction not to have the doors opened till he and his family, returned. You had better call when the church is dismissed.” “ No,” retorted the villain, “ wo will en ter now or never.” “ Impossible,” cried she; “you cannot enter until he returns. “Open the door,” cried he, “or wo’ll break it down and hum you ond the house up together.” So saying, he threw himself with all the force he possessed against the door, at the 68me time calling upon his com panions to assist him. The door, however, resisted his efforts. “ Do not attempt that again,” said Catha rine, “or yon are a dead man ;” at the same time presenting fiom the window a heavy horseman’s pistol, ready cocked. At the sight of this formidable weapon, the companions of Van Zandt, who had crossed the street at his call, retreated. “ What,” cried their leader, “ you cow ards, are you frightened at the threat of a girl ?” And Hgain he threw himself against the door ; the weapen was discharged and Van Zandt fell. The report was heard at the Church, and males and females at once rushed out to as certain the cause. On looking towards the residence of Judge V. they perceived five men running at full speed, to whom the Judge’s negroes and several others gave chase, and from ar. upper window of his residence, a white handkerchief was waving as if beck oning for aid. All rushed towards the place, ond upon their arrival. Van Zandt was in the agonies of death. He still retained strength to ac knowledge that they had frequently been concealed in the neighborhood for that pur pose, but no opportunity had offered until that day, when, lying concealed in the woods they had seen the Judge and his family go ing to church. The body of the dead Tory was taken up and buried by the Sexton of the Church, as he had no relations in that vicinity. After the absence of two hours or there abouts, the negroes returned, having suc ceeded in capturing Finley, and one of the WM. T. THOMPSON, EDITOR. strangers, who were that night confined, and the next morning, at the earnest solicitation of Judge V. liberated on promise of mend’ ing their lives. It was in the month of October, of the same year that Catharine V. was sitting by an upper back window of her father’s house knitting; though autumn, the weather WM mik), and the window hoisted about three inches. About sixty or seventy feet from the rear of the house was the bam, a huge edifice with upper and lower doors ; the lower doors were closed, and accidentally casting her eyes towards the barn, she saw a small back door on a range with the front door and window at which she was sitting, open, and a number of men enteT. The occurrence of the summer immedi ately presented itself to her, and the fact that her father and the other males of the family were at work in a field some dis tance from the house, led her to suspect that ’.he opportunity had been improved, proba bly by some of Van Zandt’s friends to plun der and revenge his death. Concealing her* self, therefore, behind the curtains, she watched their movements. She saw at man’s head slowly rising above the door, and apparently reconnoitering the premises —it was Finley’s. Their object was now evident. Going to the “ armory,” she se lected a well loaded musket and resumed her place by the widow. Kneeling upon the floor, she laid the muzzle of the w eapon upon the window sill between the curtains, and taking deliberate aim, she fired.— What effect she produced abe knew not, but saw several men hurrying out of the barn by the same dqpr they entered. The report again brought her father and hit workmen to the house, and on going into the barn, the dead bdy of Finley lay upon the floor. Catharine afterwards married a captain o t the Continental army, and sbe still lives the mother of a numerous and respectable line of descendants. The house is also in the land of the living and has been the scene of many a prank of the writer of this tale in the heyday of his mischievous boyhood. LAPQga* [DIEIPAOTSMIgIKnr . From the Youth's Companion. WIIAT ENOAGES MOST OF A YOUNG LADY! AT TENTION ? We have received the following commu nication through the mail upbraiding ua with a fault, which in future we shall endea vor to amend. “ Does the Editor of the Youth's Com panion intend to devote the whole of bis paper to the gentlemen, when the ladies so richly deserve his attention ? We have read the first two numbers with some inter est, it is true, but were sadly disappointed in the enJ ; when we found so little that would apply to ourselves. Now the Edi tor knows well enough what occupies most of a Young Lady’s mind now-a-days, and we expect him forthwith to advise two of the handsomest on the important subject.” Our reply tothese fair correspondents may be more in the language of a parent than would be agreeable to them. Truth is of ten greatly obscured by the manner in which it is expressed, and in the same way, even faction is made to assume a fair appearance. We must confess, then, that we do not “ know what occupies most of a young In dy’s attention, now-a-days,” and are of opin ion that it would take a wiser man than wo profess to be, to determine that point, Wo shall, however, make several shrewd guess es at the “ important subject,” and give our advice on all as we pass. 1. Is it Pride I If so, banish it immedi ately from your bosoms ; for it is perhapa the most dangerous companion you could choose. It gives you a higher opinion of yourselves than you are apt todeserve, and, at the same time, depi ives you of the esteem of others. In its stead, clothe yourselves in the garments of humility, and you will soon he delighted at the exchange. Re member that pride has filled a world with misery, and that humility has opened the way to salvation. 2. Is it novel reading ? Then lay by your romances, and get rid of the silly, idle nations with which they have filled your minds; for they crowd. out every thought that relates to your duty, and the things uy which you are surrounded. Instead of these, reed the Bible, the “ House-Keeper,” and the Youth’s Companion : the first to point out your duty to God ; the second to prepare you foi acting in your own proper sphere with usefulness ; and the third to employ your leisure moments with reflec tions on both. This will be really a delight ful change, for it ia giving fiction for truth, and pleasure for pain. 3. Is it a desire to excel in those accom plishments which constitute a lady of qual ity ? Why, then, it ia all the better for you, if rightly used. Let your Piano be Placed in view of your Loom, and you ’ainting-fiatne beside your Wheel, that one may not be forgotten while you are en gaged with the other, and that you may be frequently reminded that real pleasure must come from the use of both. Remember that the aame path leads to usefulness and happiness, ana that one rarely dwells in the bosom that does not cherish the other. 4. Is it marriage 1 Jf it ia, never pur yourselves to the trouble of letting every, body know it. If the thought will occupy your minds, by all mean* keep H there, and