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terrible.—Keep me from ever beholding it again,

my Father!

For a considerable time this state of her feelings continued. The slightest noise alarmed her, and filled the seat of thought with gloom and fear. Her mother at last discovered that she had received letters from William, and had written to him; and it was also found that the false-hearted rascal--for I must descend to call him so—was on the point of being married to a five hundred pounder in Capelstreet. These circumstances convinced Charlotte's parents that her disease was of the mind; and in order to amuse her she was sent on a visit to Newry, where her mother, who accompanied her, went to hear the celebrated Dr. Malcom preach.

Charlotte, who was of a religious turn, was present on the occasion, though seemingly inattentive to passing events; but the very tone of the doctor's fine voice aroused and excited her, like music. As he proceeded she forgot herself; and, towards the latter part of his sermon, when the doctor addressed his young

friends on their duties to God, to man, and to themselves, Charlotte became so affected that she bowed her head, and burst into a flood of

tears. This appears to have relieved her intellect ; as, upon returning home, she requested her mother to read a certain chapter of Job, to which Doctor Malcom had referred; and from that day her convalescence commenced. In a few weeks Charlotte was perfectly restored to hope, joy, and friendship. She heard the marriage of Mr. William Barton announced ; and such was the strength of her mind, that she congratulated herself on escaping from a man who could treat a fond heart as he had treated hers.

And Charlotte is now a happy wife; blessed with a husband in whose honour and principle she may repose ; and with every prospect of felicity here and hereafter. Let us never despond--but be ready to say,

after every storm—“All's well that ends well."

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I AGREE with the poet in the praise he has bestowed on the welcome of an inn. Appear at one in the garb of a gentleman, and with the purse of a prodigal ; obsequious ceremony bows to you down to the ground, as my lord of the King's Arms, anticipating attention, removes your wants in the form of humble servility, and you see smiling invitation in the bright face of my lord's lady. But where, in this cold world, can you be more at ease than in a news-room? Enter one in November, you are cheered with the curling blaze of Wigan ; in the dog-days, you have an airy and spacious apartment, where your spleen may evaporate in denouncing heat. If inclined to know how the world is moving, you may abstract mind from your own centre, and travel to the poles. Should you be in a humour to indulge reflections on eye and ear views, there is generally, in a news-room, fertility without disappointment. In short, you may study character by fixing sight on the door, and judge of manner and feeling by what you hear.

It has been frequently observed, that a strong feature of every man's mind appears when he enters a room. This may be doubted, as dancingmasters have shaded the physiognomy of manner with sameness, so that we can no more distinguish a difference in systematized bows, than in the handwriting of boarding-school misses. Let a young lady, however, be quite at ease, and she forgets the curves of her writing-master in sweet contemplation of herself; so, when we enter a news-room, being quite unguarded, like Dante's cat, we drop the light f education, and show the cloven foot of nature;

therefore, phrenological properties may be looked for occasionally in penmanship, and generally with successful certainty at the door of a news-room.

When I see a man, on his entrance or exit, assume a self-sufficient air, crash the door behind him without feeling for its hinges, and dash in or out with the importance of somebody, I enter him in the tablet of my observation as a character willing to make a noise in the world, and anxious to be thought a person of consequence, of which there is doubt in his own mind. If, on the contrary, I see awkward hesitation in the address of a stranger at the door; if I observe that he is afraid to use a privilege which, at the same time, he knows belongs to him, I book that man as acting, not from a feeling of modesty, but from something in himself of which he is ashamed. Between these two extremes lie all the shades of character. You may detect vanity in turning at the door; pride, in a haughty condescending nod when entering; humility, in a noiseless approach ; modesty, in an evident care not to disturb others; impudence, in a rattling careless manner; and the perfect gentleman in that

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