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ing over the circumstances which surround them. To Wallace, vanity appeared the chief motive of Jane's desertion. He saw her, dazzled by the situation—intoxicated with the attentions of her noble lover, bartering her peace on earth and her hopes of Heaven, for the enjoyment of guilty splendour: and no wonder if he thought the temptation inadequate. But other and far stronger motives bore the unhappy girl onwards to destruction. Taken from the workhouse, to be the spoilt plaything of a childless old lady, her education had been such as to place an insuperable bar between her and those with whom it was her destiny to be associated in after years. Her protectress was what is technically termed a thoroughly worldly woman; and while she alternately caressed and scolded her orphan favourite, she forgot all but her own amusement in the possession of such a novel object o attraction. That fearful responsibility, the training of a human soul, entered not into her thoughts; and she shrank, with an engrossing selfishness, from the consideration of that period, which, while it left Jane desolate, would terminate her own existence in this world. She died without a will, and without making any provision for her unhappy protegee. Those who inherited her property, and who had watched with jealousy those schemes for Jane's temporary benefit, which, they thought, would surely end in her usurping their rights, treated her with the utmost harsh. ness: they denied the claim to any part, of one to whom they expected all would be given; and, at the age of seventeen, Jane found herself without a home, without a friend in the world.

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finally to the condition of a servant: while ||

the severity and bitter taunts she had to endure from her self-constituted mistresses, rendered her situation still more painful. Of the tears which these scenes oc

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casionally wrung from her, there was one pitying witness: and, though Jane's native and acquired refinement but ill pre: pared her for the homely caresses, and rofessions of attachment of the villager allace, still his constant kindress, and

—“the strong -
Necessity of loving"—

which exists in the human heart, prompted her to devote to him affections which were trampled on by those to whom she owed gratitude: and she looked calmly forward to the time when Wallace should make her his wife. * * *

The spell was, however, soon. broken. Sir Arnold Stepney came, and recalled all the dreams of persection which had employed her youthful imagination. She was with a being as much superior to those she had long lived amongst, as she herself was to those who now surrounded her. She was with one whose tastes and sympathies were like her own, who undorsood her feelings and felt with her; and her sensations were such as his may be supposed, who, after long and weary wandering in the desert, suddenly bears the sound of a human voice. For thre: months she saw Arnold almost daily ; for two years she regularly received and answered his letters, and felt a woman's pride, as she wept over their passionate eloquence, in that affection which absence and the jarring of other and more immediate interests, had no power to destroy.

He returned to el im the young. heart he had won. And ho are those who, in recurring to their own temptations, can feel their right to scorn the weakness of his victim. Her’s * not a vicious mind. Properly trained and regulated, her lot in life might have been happier or mos glorious. She might, by a different # rection of the same §: heroine, a martyr, or a sainti for what is love after all, o a strong superstition.

Concluded in ourner)

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, , ... no ot'i or 1- --VIRTUE is like a rich stone, best ain set; and surely virtue is best in a body that is comely, though not of delicate features; and that hath rather dignity o presence, than beauty of aspeet.

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- B A T T L E O F W A T E R L O O. On the isth of June, 1815, - the Allied wealth and honesty. No man was more powers and the armies of Napoleon came|upright in h’s dealings, or nore pu:.ctual to a decided, engagement upon the plains in his payments; he was honored and reof Waterloo. After a severe contest Na-spected; his warehouses were filled with oleon was defeated, and the result was rich goods; and the profits he derived i...". who from a state of ob.from his occupation were immense. For scurity had arisen, by the forge of his own the most costly silks and embroidery, aptalents, to the very pionacle of same and plication was made to Ren Adhem ; and grandeur. The subject however, is so gen, the Sultan and the nobles bestowed on erally known that a detail would be sjor him their favors. And the merchant was

fluous. * -- - - supposed to be happy. But when, on some n . - -- - - sudden flood of prosperity, he was told - H A PPI Y HE S s; that he ought to be the happiest of men,

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‘What writest thou?" The vision raised its head, whom he had dealings to be as punctual

And with a look. made of all sweet accord, |* .. - - - --Answered, “The names of those who love the Lord.” in their payments to him. 1]e was a de

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bou Bea Adhem was distinguished by liter anticipated. He returned thanks to

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heaven, and immediately after his thanks-
giving he gave orders for the imprison-
ment of two debtors who had failed in
their payments. They were imprisoned
by his orders and bastinadoed.
Abou was called upon to subscribe to
a fund for some charitable purpose. He
considered it to be his duty to give his
mite; and he was happier after he had
contributed to the charitable fund than he
was beforc. He felt assured that Alla
approved of his conduct. A poor Chris-
tian, who had been employed by a benev-
olent merchant, then deceased, came in a
state of destitution to Abou's gate, and
begged for food. Abou Ben Adhem or-
dered that the Christian dog should be
driven away, and instead of bread he re-
ceived the lash!
And Abou wondered that he was not
happy. He was wealthy, csteemed, and
honored. His stores were filled with goods
of great value: his coffers were well sup-
plied: and his only child was the fairest
and most admired of all the maidens in
Balsora. It was the delight of her life to
administer to her father's happiness: but
Ben Adhem was not happy. His days
were past in a fruitless longing for some
indefinite and unimagined pleasure, and
his nights were those of troubled, but
dreamless sleep. Once he beheld in a
vision the gates of Paradise, through
which thousands of living souls were en-
tering in, but when he approached, the
gates closed, and the songs of joy he had
previously heard were changed into a low
and murmured wailing. Ben Adhem a-
woke: the dream troubled him, and he
strove to recollect what offences he had
committed and were unrepented of; what
work of righteousness he had left undone.
But he could not charge himself with
aught.
His daughter, Zaide, met him at the first
meal with tearful eyes. Abou embraced
his child, and besought her to disclose the
cause of her grief. She was beloved by
an honest but humble youth, who was ele-
vating himself day after day, in fortune
and reputation, by his perseverance and
integrity, and Zaide had given him love
for love. And when Ben Adhem asked
his child what caused her tears, she con-
fessed to him that she loved.
• Well, my dear child,” replied the mer-

chant, clasping his daughter to his breast,
“My day of life is drawing to its close,
the sun has gone down, and the coldness
and darkness of night are approaching; it
is fit that thou should'st have some one to
protect thee, when I am gone. And who
is he thou lovest ?”
“Alas! my father, I fear thou wilt visit
me with thy displeasure,” replied Zaide.
“He is of inferior fortune.”
“That is to be regretted, Zaide. It
would have better pleased me hadst thou
fixed thy heart's ift. upon one who
was equal to thyself. But I will not blight
thy young hopes, if the youth be worthy.
Who is he tho lovest?”
“The son of the olive-merchant, Abdal-
lah.”
Ben Adhem removed his hand from the
clear forehead of his child, and releasing
the hand of hers which he had grasped,
slowly moved away, exclaiming, hurried.
ly, “’No, no, no, no, my child; it cannot
be; I would willingly yield thee to a wor-
thy husband's arms. I would have given
thee to one of lesser fortune if thy choice
had lighted there, but I cannot give thee
to the son of the olive-merchant, Abdal.
lah, for he has done me much wrong.”
And Abou Ben Adhem remained deaf
to his child's entreaties, and forbade her
to marry Abdallah's son. And when he
retired to rest, the vision of the past night
appeared to him; and when he closed his
eyes to sleep he saw again the gates of
Paradise, and they seemed thicker than
before, and were now fastened with mas-
sy chains, and as he approached towards
them they became less and less visible,
and then disappeared; and Ben Adhem
found that he was in the midst of utter
darkness, and a sound was in his ears like
the roaring of the distant ocean. He
strove to emerge from this dreary scene,
but the farther he proceeded, the deeper
was the darkness, and he cried aloud in
his agony, “How, how shall I find my
way out of this dreadful place?” And in-
mediately a soft low voice seemed to
whisper in his ear, “Love thy fellow-
men" And Ben Adhem suddenly a-
woke.
His child was at his bedside; she had
come to summon him to the morning meal.
And while he gazed upou the sunny face
of Zaide, tears come into his eyes; and

holding forth his arms, he said. “Kiss me Zaide, kiss me. Upon the cheek of innocence let me make my peace with all the human race.” And when he arose, he called for the son of the olive-merchant, Abdallah. and placed the hand of Zaide in his. Ben Adhem said, “Be this the surety that I am at peace with all mankind "And he gave orders that his debtors should be released a from prison, and he sent for the Christian , whom his neighbor had left unprovided for, and took him into his house. And when the sun went down, Ben Adhem was a happy man. And when he laid himself down to rest, sweet music seemed to lull him to repose, and in his dream he saw again the gates of Paradise, and they were open, and the friends of his youth, the wife of his bosom, were all gathered together there, with snowy pinions and bright countenances; and seraphic music ; : his ears, and he passed onward to the regions of the blest. And when he awoke from his dreaming he felt that his mysterious wish was grat. ified. He was now a happy man; and leoked forward, with confidence, to the scene that had been pictured to his dream.

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How noble—how lofty, and full of most important duties is the sphere of the gentle sex. Is there not magic in the eloqueut name of sister There is a duty, to bind more closely around the heart by unceasing love and watchfulness the sweetest of all ties. Unnatural must be the heart, that can look upon the pure and guileless, united by such a tie, treading life's new paths, and not feel the deep beauty of this Heaven-born blessing.

How important to cultivate in, youth the dispositions and affections, to watch the first glimmerings of a repining, an ungentle spirit, to repres an ungracious word, and to endeavor to pursue, steadily and without reproach, the straight, and narrow path leading to happiness, and to the immortal strains of everlasting joy in the choirs of the pure of Heaven.

To woman is entrusted the high privilege of guiding the infant spirit #. i.

first wakening. If then the gentle affection of a sister has found in her bosom no answering sentiment, and the bright period of youth has been past idly by, how

who would see the unshackled mind of the innocent committed to his charge, beaming with the reflection of all that is noble and beautiful. The young spirit draws from the eye guidingsits dawning powers, the coloring of its future eestiny. Upon a mother's breast, from the fount of her tenderness, its first thought of beauty springs. If sorrow cloud the brow of the mother, the tiny lip is convulsed and the o: spirit appears to participate in the unknown cause, which shuts from its gaze the light of its parents’ smile. If such be the case, how ought that mind to be disciplined, having no immortal spirit to lead aright through the uncertain paths of the worlds allurements and deceits? , - Upon woman depends the destiny of the nation 1 for she is rearing up senators and statesmen. Let her then strive for. the need of virtuous praise. Truly a woman in her purity is a “pearl of pricc,” but in her degradation, to be shunned as to avoid infection. Let then the preparation for the high duties of woman in youth, be guided by christian hope and ofty aspirations. Let each moment of the precious period be devoted to acts of virtuous emulation, and let those “rose

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can the fond hopes of a father be realized, .

virtue and modesty, for cultivated minds,

ling player, who wagered a crown bowl

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The Generous Maslo. " ' A TALE- - * :

A beautiful lady of Bordeaux mourned with the sincerest grief for her husband, who, as she had heard by report, had pe. rished by shipwreck. A numerous crowd of suitors attracted by her youth and charms, only waited the confirmation of this rumor to solicit her hand, She behaved towards them with the utmost decency and propriety; yet, as she wished to make return for the politeness they shewed her, she made a splendid enter. tainment for them, on one of the concluding days of the carnival. While the company were engaged in play, a stran. ger. masked, and habited as a genius on. tered, and set down to play with the lady. He lost, demanded his revenge, and lost again. him ten or twelve times successively, be. cause he adroitly managed the dice in such a manner that the chance was continually against him. Other players then wished to try their luck with him, but the *xperiment did not turn to their advantage The lady again resumed her place, and won an immense sum, which the mask lost with a good humor and gaiety that absolutely astonished the spectators. Some person observed, loud enough to be heard, that this was not playing, but lavishly, throwing away one's money, on which the mask, raising his voice, said, “that he was the Daemon of Riches, which he valued not, except so far as it was in his power to bestow them on that lady;” and immediately, to prove the truth of his words, he produced several bags full of gold, and others filled with diamonds and different kinds of precious stones; offering to stake them, on one single throw, against any thing of the most trivial value she might please to propose. The lady, star. tled and embarrassed by this declaration, now refused to play any more; and the whole company knew not what to think of this extraordinary occurrence, when an old lady present, observed to the person next her that the mask must certainly be the devil; and that his riches, his appearance, his discourse and his dexterity at #: all sufficiently showed what he was,

e stranger, overhearing this, profited

This adverse fortune attended

by the hint. He assumed the air and style of a magician, mentioned several things which could be known only to the lady, spoke several foreign languages, performed many ingenious tricks, and concluded by declaring that he was come to demand a certain person in theocompany who had given herself to him, and who, he protested belonged to him ; asserting at the same time, that he would take her to himself, and never leave her more, in defiance of every obstacle. All eyes were now turned on the lady, who knew not what to thing of this adventure, the women trembled, the men smiled, and the genius still continued to excite the

perplexity and admiration of the compa

my.” This extraordinary scene lasted so long, that some grave personages, at last arrived, who interrogated the demon, and were on the point of exercising him. The mask, however, turned everything into ridicule with so "tmuch wit, that he

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this extraordinary entertainment, by exci.

ting an exclamation of joy from the mistress of the house. In the generous stranger she immediately recognized her husband; who, having been in Spain, had gone from thence to Peru, where he had made an immense fortune,’ and returned laden with riches. He had learned, on his arrival, that his lady was to give an entertainent and a masqued ball to some particular friends. An opportunity so fa. fourable to disguise, inspired a wish to introduce himself without being known, and he had chosen the most extravagant dress he could meet with. The whole company, which, in a great measure, consisted of his relations and friends, cougratulated him on his return, and willingly resigned to him his amiable lady, whom he had very justly claimed as his own.

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