fringed eyelashes her eyebrows arched and regular, as | three weeks I was able to leave the room; during that if drawn by a pair of compasses, and their soft hair in time, I had become very intimate with the whole family, beautiful contrast with her snowy forehead-her hair and was treated as if I belonged to it. During my illwas auburn, but mostly concealed within her cap-herness I had certainly shown more sense of religion than nose was very straight, but not very large, and her I had ever done before, I do not mean to say that I mouth was perfection. She appeared to be between was really religious. I liked to hear the Bible read by seventeen and eighteen years old, and as far as I could Susannah, and I liked to talk with her upon religious ascertain, her figure was symmetrically perfect. Dress-subjects; but had Susannah been an ugly old woman, I ed as she was in the modest, simple garb worn by the females of the society of Friends, she gave an idea of neatness, cleanliness, and propriety, upon which I could have gazed for ever. She was, indeed, most beautiful. I felt her beauty, her purity, and I could have worshiped her as an angel. While I still had my eyes fixed upon her exquisite features, she closed her book, and rising from her chair, came to the side of the bed. That she might not be startled at the idea of my having been watching her, I closed my eyes, and pretended to sluinber. She resumed her seat, and then I changed my position and spoke, "Is any one there?"

"Yes, friend Newland, what is it that thou requirest ?" said she, advancing. "Wouldst thou see Cophagus or Ephraim? I will summon them."

"O no,” replied I; "why should I disturb them from their amusements or employments? I have slept a long while, and I would like to read a little, I think, if my eyes are not too weak."

"Thou must not read, but I may read unto thee," replied Susannah. "Tell me, what is it that thou wouldst have me read? I have no vain books; but surely, thou thinkest not of them, after thy escape from death." "I care not what is read, provided that you read to me," replied I.

"Nay, but thou shouldst care; and be not wroth if I say to thee, that there is but one book to which thou shouldst now listen. Thou hast just been saved from deadly peril-thou hast been rescued from the jaws of death. Art thou not thankful? And to whom is gratititude most due, but to thy Heavenly Father, who hath been pleased to spare thee?"

"You are right," replied I; "then I pray you to read to me from the Bible."

Susannah made no reply, but resumed her seat, and selecting those chapters most appropriate to my situation, read them in a beautiful and impressive tone.

If the reader will recall my narrative to his recollection, he must observe, that religion had had but hitherto little of my thoughts. I had lived the life of most who live in this world, perhaps not quite so correct in morals as many people, for my code of morality was suited to circumstances; as to religion, I had none. I had lived in the world, and for the world. I had certainly been well instructed in the tenets of our faith when I was at the Asylum, but there, as in most other schools, it is made irksome, as a task, and is looked upon with almost a feeling of aversion. No proper religious feelings are, or can be, inculcated to a large number of scholars; it is the parent alone who can instil, by precept and example, that true sense of religion, which may serve as a guide through life. I had not read the Bible from the time that I quitted the Foundling Hospital. It was new to me, and when I now heard read, by that beautiful creature, passages equally beautiful, and so applicable to my situation, weakened with discase, and humbled in adversity, I was moved even unto tears.

Susannah closed the book and came to the bedside. I thanked her; she perceived my emotion, and when I held out my hand she did not refuse hers. I kissed it, and it was immediately withdrawn, and she left the room. Shortly afterwards Ephraim made his appearance. Cophagus and his wife also came that evening, but I saw no more of Susannah Temple until the following day, when I again requested her to read to me. I will not detain the reader with an account of my recovery. In

very much doubt if I should have been so attentive. It
was her extreme beauty-her modesty and fervour,
which so became her, which enchanted me. I felt the
beauty of religion, but it was through an earthly object;
it was beautiful in her. She looked an angel, and I
listened to her precepts as delivered by one. Still, what-
ever may be the cause by which a person's attention can
be directed to so important a subject, so generally ne-
glected, whether by fear of death, or by love towards an
earthly object, the advantages are the same; and although
very far from what I ought to have been, I certainly was,
through my admiration of her, a better man. More.
over, I was not a little in love. As soon as I was on the
sofa, wrapped up in one of the dressing-gowns of Mr.
Cophagus, he told me that the clothes in which I had
been picked up were all in tatters, and asked whether I
would like to have others made according to the usual
fashion, or like those with whom I should, he trusted, in
future reside. I had already debated this matter in my
mind. Return to the world I had resolved not to do; to
follow up the object of my search appeared to me only
to involve me in difficulties; and what were the inten-
tions of Cophagus with regard to me, I knew not. I
was hesitating, for I knew not what answer to give, when
I perceived the pensive, deep blue eye of Susannah fixed
upon me, watching attentively, if not eagerly, for my
response.
It decided the point. "If," replied I, "you do not
think that I shall disgrace you, I should wish to wear
the dress of the society of Friends, although not yet one
of your body."

"But soon to be, I trust," replied Mrs. Cophagus. "Alas!" replied I, " I am an outcast;" and looked it Susannah Temple.

"Not so, Japhet Newland," replied she, mildly; "I am pleased that thou hast of thy own accord rejected vain attire. I trust that thou wilt not find that thou art without friends."

"While I am with you," replied I, addressing myself to them all, "I consider it my duty to conform to your manners in every way, but by and by, when I resume my search

"And why shouldst thou resume a search which must prove unavailing, and but leads thee into error and misfortune? I am but young, Japhet Newland, and not perhaps so able to advise, yet doth it appear to me, that the search can only be availing when made by those who left thee. When they wish for thee they will seek thee, but thy seeking them is vain and fruitless."

"But," replied I," recollect that enquiries have already been made at the Foundling, and those who enquired have been sent away disappointed-they will enquire no more."

"And is a parent's love so trifling, that one disappoint. ment will drive him from the seeking of his child? No, no, Japhet; if thou art yearned for, thou wilt be found, and fresh enquiries will be made; but thy search is unavailing, and already hast thou lost much time."

"True, Susannah, thy advice is good," replied Mrs. Cophagus; "in following a shadow, Japhet bath much neglected the substance; it is time that thou shouldst settle thyself, and earn thy livelihood."

"And do thy duty in that path of life to which it hath pleased God to call thee," continued Susannah, who with Mrs. Cophagus walked out of the room.

Cophagus then took up the conversation, and pointing

out the uselessness of my roving about, and the propriety
of my settling in life, proposed that I should take an
apothecary's shop, for which he would furnish the
means, and that he could ensure me the custom of the
whole society of Friends in Reading, which was very
large, as there was not one of the sect in that line of
business. "Become one of us, Japhet-good business-
marry by and by-happy life-little children-and so
on."
I thought of Susannah, and was silent. Cophagus
then said, I had better reflect upon his offer, and make
up my determination. If that did not suit me, he would
still give me all the assistance in his power.

I did reflect long before I could make up my mind. I was still worldlily inclined; still my fancy would revel in the idea of finding out my father in high life, and of once more appearing as a star of fashion, of returning with interest the contumely I had lately received, and re-assuming as a right that position in society which I had held under false colours.

was a very good looking and a very smart one; and
when, a day or two afterwards, a reunion of friends took
place at Mr. Cophagus's house to introduce me to them,
I perceived, with much satisfaction, that there was no
young man who could compete with me. After this I
was much more reconciled to my transformation.
Mr. Cophagus was not idle. In a few weeks he had
rented a shop for me, and furnished it much better than
his own in Smithfield; the upper part of the house was
let off, as I was to reside with the family. When it was
ready I went over it with him, and was satisfied; all
wished for was Timothy as an assistant, but that wish
was unavailing, as I knew not where to find him.

That evening I observed to Mr. Cophagus that I did not much like putting my name over the shop. The fact was, that my pride forbade it; and I could not bear the idea, that Japhet Newland, at whose knock every aristocratic door had flown open, should appear in gold letters above a shop window. "There are many reasons I could not bear the idea of sinking at once into a against it," observed I. "One is, that it is not my real tradesman, and probably ending my days in obscurity. name-I should like to take the name of Cophagus; anPride was still my ruling passion. Such were my first other is, that the name, being so well known, may attract impulses, and then I looked upon the other side of the those who formerly knew me, and I should not wish that picture. I was without the means necessary to support they should come in and mock me; another is” myself; I could not return to high life without I dis- "Japhet Newland," interrupted Susannah, with more covered my parents in the first place, and in the second, severity than I ever had seen in her sweet countenance, found them to be such as my warm imagination had de-"do not trouble thyself with giving thy reasons, seeing picted. I had no chance of finding them. I had al- that thou hast given every reason but the right oneready been long seeking in vain. I had been twice taken which is, that thy pride revolts at it." up to Bow-street-nearly lost my life in Ireland-had been sentenced to death-had been insane, and recovered by a miracle, and all in prosecuting this useless search. All this had much contributed to cure me of the monomania. I agreed with Susannah that the search must be made by the other partics, and not by me. I recalled the treatment I had received from the world, the contempt with which I had been treated, the heartlessness of high life, and the little chance of my ever again being admitted into society.

I

I placed all this in juxtaposition with the kindness of those with whom I now resided; what they had done already for me, and what they now offered, which was to make me independent by my own exertions. weighed all in my mind; was still undecided, for my pride still carried its weight; when I thought of the pure, beautiful Susannah Temple, and, my decision was made. I would not lose the substance by running after shadows.

That evening, with many thanks, I accepted the kind offers of Mr. Cophagus, and expressed my determination of entering into the society of Friends.

"Thou hast chosen wisely," said Mrs. Cophagus, ex. tending her hand to me; "and it is with pleasure that we shall receive thee."

"I welcome thee, Japhet Newland," said Susannah, also offering her hand, "and I trust that thou wilt find more happiness among those with whom thou art about to sojourn, than in the world of vanity and deceit, in which thou hast hitherto played thy part. No longer seek an earthly father, who hath deserted thee, but a heavenly Father, who will not desert thee in thy afflictions."

"You shall direct me into the right path, Susannah," replied I.

on.

"I am too young to be a guide, Japhet," replied she, smiling; "but not too young, I hope, to be a friend." The next day my clothes came home, and I put them I looked at myself in the glass, and was any thing but pleased; but as my head was shaved, it was of little consequence what I wore; so I consoled myself. Mr. Cophagus sent for a barber and ordered me a wig, which was to be ready in a few days; when it was ready I put it on, and altogether did not dislike my appearance. I flattered myself that if I was a quaker, at all events I VOL. XXVII.-NOVEMBER, 1835-68

"I was about to observe," replied I, "that it was a name that sounded of mammon, and not fitting for one of our persuasion. But, Susannah, you have accused me of pride, and I will now raise no further objections. Japhet Newland it shall be, and let us speak no more upon the subject."

"If I have wronged thee, Japhet, much do I crave thy forgiveness," replied Susannah. "But it is God alone who knoweth the secrets of our hearts. I was presumptuous, and you must pardon me."

"Susannah, it is I who ought to plead for pardon; you know me better than I know myself. It was pride, and nothing but pride-but you have cured me."

"Truly have I hopes of thee now, Japhet," replied Susannah, smiling. "Those who confess their faults will soon amend them; yet I do think there is some reason in thy observation, for who knoweth, but, meeting with thy former associates, thou mayst not be tempted into falling away? Thou mayst spell thy name as thou listeth; and, peradventure, it would be better to disguise it."

So agreed Mr. and Mrs. Cophagus, and I therefore had it written Grow-land; and having engaged a person of the society, strongly recommended to me, as an assistant, I took possession of my shop, and was very soon busy in making up prescriptions, and dispensing my medicines in all quarters of the good town of Reading. And I was happy. I had employment during the day; my profession was, at all events, liberal. I was dressed and lived as a gentleman, or rather, I should say, respectably. I was earning my own livelihood. I was a useful member of society; and when I retired home to meals, and late at night, I found, that if Cophagus and his wife had retired, Susannah Temple always waited up, and remained with me a few minutes. I had never been in love until I had fallen in with this perfect creature; but my love for her was not the love of the world; I could not so depreciate her-I loved her as a superior being-I loved her with fear and trembling. I felt that she was too pure, too holy, too good, for a vain worldly creature like myself. I felt as if my destiny depended upon her and her fiat; that if she favoured me, my hap piness in this world and in the next were secured; that if she rejected me, I was cast away for ever. Such was my feeling for Susannah Temple, who, perfect as she

MY MARRIED DAUGHTER COULD YOU SEE! of his abilities. He also touches upon his private life in

enlivened by the details of biography. With the account | honour done me in this appointment, yet I feel great of the former we shall not meddle, but we will take a few distress from a consciousness that my abilities and milianecdotes from the latter. tary experience may not be equal to the extensive trust. However, as the congress desire it, I will enter upon the momentous duty, and exert every power I possess in their service and for the support of the glorious cause. I beg they will accept my most cordial thanks for this distinguished testimony of their approbation.

Washington Surveying.-Since you received my letter of October last, I have not slept above three or four nights in a bed; but after walking a good deal all the day, I have lain down before the fire upon a little hay, straw, fodder, or a bearskin, whichever was to be had, with man, wife, and children, like dogs and cats; and happy is he who gets the berth nearest the fire. Nothing would make it pass off tolerably but a good reward. Å doubloon is my constant gain every day that the weather will permit of my going out; and sometimes six pistoles. The coldness of the weather will not allow of my making a long stay, as the lodging is rather too cold for the time of year. I have never had my clothes off, but have lain and slept in them, except the few nights I have been in Frederictown.

"But lest some unlucky event should happen, unfavourable to my reputation, I beg it may be remembered by every gentleman in this room, that I this day declare with the utmost sincerity, that I do not think myself equal to the command I am honoured with. I beg leave, sir, to assure the congress, that as no pecuniary consideration could have tempted me to accept this arduous employment, at the expense of my domestic care and happiness, I do not wish to make any profit from it. I will keep an exact account of my expenses. These I doubt not they will discharge, and this is all I desire."

Tremordyn Cliff. By Mrs. Trollope. 3 vols. Bentley.

Washington's Farms.-On his estate at Mount Vernon, he engaged himself extensively in the business of There is not much abstract political speculation in this agriculture, and is said to have been remarkable for the volume, but we must warn the reader against what there judgment he displayed in the improvement of his lands. is. Were we disposed for minute and microscopic disEvery branch of business was conducted upon system. cussion, the second paragraph in the book would afford Exact method and economy were carried into every de-ample opportunity. We scarcely remember to have met, partment of his domestic concerns. He personally in- in a work of character, so many false facts, or such false spected the account of his overseers every week; the conclusions from facts, contained in so short a compass. divisions of his farms were numbered, and the expense-Spectator. of cultivation, and the produce of each lot were exactly registered; so that at one view he could determine the profit or loss of any particular crop, and ascertain the comparative advantage of various modes of husbandry. He became one of the largest landholders in North America. Besides other tracts of great extent and value, his Mount Vernon estate consisted of nine thousand acres, which were entirely under his own management; and from it alone he, in one year, raised seven thousand bushels of wheat and ten thousand of Indian corn. His establishment, agricultural and domestic, consisted of no fewer than a thousand persons; and though the greater part of his farming implements were obtained from London, the linen and woollen cloth required in his business were chiefly manufactured on the estate.

Tremordyn Cliff," or the "Distressed Countess," or the "Interesting Embarrassment." We beg to suggest the two last titles, as they would clearly express the style of books to which these volumes belong. Certainly a more absurd story was never written by a feather plucked from the wing of an owl, even in the most flourishing days of the Minerva press. A young lady has, most unfortunately, a younger brother, who deprives her of the title and succession that, till fourteen, she had considered her own. For nearly twenty-one years she is making up her mind to kill him; however, she marries him instead--or rather, has him married to a pretty Precision. It may be remarked that the habits of exEnglish girl whom he meets in Switzerland. She doses actness to which reference has been made, were some. the mother with laudanum, has the toothache herself, times carried to an eccentric and whimsical excess. One and ties up her face with a silk pocket handkerchief; or two instances of this peculiarity may not be inappro-and by these notable contrivances, contrives to conceal priate in this place. On one occasion, General Stone, while traveling across the country with his family, found it necessary to cross a ferry belonging to Washington, and offered the ferryman a moidore in payment. The man refused it, saying that he had no means of weighing it, which his master would most assuredly do; and in case it should fall beneath the standard weight, the loss, as well as the displeasure of Washington, would be visited upon him. General Stone, upon this, offered the man threepence more to compensate for every possible deficiency of weight. The ferryman received and duly paid it to his employer. On weighing it, it was found to be below weight to the value of three halfpence; upon which Washington wrapped up the remaining three halfpence, and remitted it to General Stone. Upon another occasion, while Washington was from home, a room in his house was plastered by his order. On his return, he measured the room; and on inspecting the workman's account, discovered that he had charged fifteen shillings more than was due. Some time after, the plasterer died, and his wife married another man, who advertised in the The Works of S. Rogers, Esq. Vol. VII. Moxon. provincial newspapers that he was ready to pay and There are some delicious things in this seventh numreceive all that was due from or to his wife's former ber of Rogers's works. "The Brides of Venice" reprehusband: Washington, on seeing the paper, immediately sent a group as graceful as the description. But the substantiated his claim for the fifteen shillings, and re- "Tournament" is the gem-nothing can be more rich, ceived the amount!

all evidence of the marriage. Why, a fifth-rate farce writer would have managed the intrigue better. The brother dies; and at the age of forty, or thereabouts, Lady Augusta rises upon the fashionable world a beauty of the most appalling order. Then comes "injured innocence," and an interesting widow; a good deal of dialogue, half flippant and half dull; and at last, a girl, whose history is singularly indelicate, and unfit for detail, steals the marriage certificate, which the countess had kept in a box on her table, for no earthly cause, but with every possible reason to prevent her doing it. The injured wife and child are restored to their rights, and Lady Tremordyn politely drives to the cliff of that name, and throws herself into the sea. Certainly we do give Mrs. Trollope most extraordinary credit for the genius she has displayed in collecting together the improbable and the absurd. If the word trash had never been used before, it wonld have been invented on this especial occasion.--Court Journal.

airy, and spirited. We almost see the movement of the Oration on his appointment as Commander-in-Chief-two knights who are dashing on "to meet the keen enAlthough," said he, "I am truly sensible of the high counter." The setting of Genevra--i. e. the portrait of

a lady in a frame--with the huge and fatal coffer below -is good; but the figure itself wants lightness, and the face is thick and indistinct. There are also two charming views of Arqua, to which Petrarch has bequeathed the noble legacy of his memory. "One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.". Petrarch was one of the most learned men of his time-the able and trusted friend of princes of statesmen. But we remember him for "his love's sweet sake," for the green valleys in which he delighted, and the human affection with which he made their shadows musical. These delicious and poetical engravings are well accompanied by the graceful chronicles of Rogers. We never mect with a passage which makes us "breathless with adoration;" there are none of those creations which "seen, become a part of sight;" none of those touches of thought and music which "remain a joy for ever;" none, in short, of the signs and tokens of the great poet. But Rogers is a man of fine taste, and cultivated mind. He visits the most interesting places, whose very names are poems in themselves, and gathers together their picturesque and romantic memories in flowing and elegant verse. He is full of poetry, though scarce poet.-ib.

The Modern Dunciad, Virgil in London, and other
Poems. William Pickering: London.

den, after a drawing by Harding, of the town of East Dereham, a very fine specimen of art. This volume is principally occupied by "The Task." It also contains the "Tyrocinium," and many of the author's minor and humorous poems. His melancholy, at times, could be exquisitely humorous. "John Gilpin" figures conspicuously among these. As this volume contains merely the text of Cowper, we cannot have possibly any thing to say, by way of commentary, on that which is so well known and appreciated.-Metropolitan.

The Life of Samuel Johnson, LLD., including a journal of his tour to the Hebrides. By James Boswell, Esq. To which are added, Anecdotes by Hawkins, Piozzi, Murphy, Tyers, Reynolds, Stevens, &c., and notes by various hands. 8 vols. John Murray, Albemarle St.

cellent artist, Stanfield, and engraved by Finden. It is a
This sixth volume boasts a frontispiece after that ex-
romantic view of Dove Dale. The vignette title-page is
a portrait of the gravid doctor, from a bust of Nollekens.
The volume is full of anecdote and highly-amusing con-
versonal traits. In every other respect, as far as the
getting of it up is concerned, it is quite equal to the best
of its predecessors.-Ibid.

The Linwoods. By Miss Sedgwick, author of "Hope
Leslie." 3 vols. London: Churton.

while the other, as it were, scratches them off with the stump of a pen. Mrs. Trollope works the vein of terror with great skill; Miss Sedgwick has no slight command over the fountain of tears: but they are both highly gifted women.

To war with dulness is a task more easy than to overcome it; but it is the least easy of all to make it, in ridiculing it, a source of wit. The "Modern Dunciad" talent, as displayed in fiction, could hardly be shown than A more striking example of the versatility of female is satirical without humour. Its strain of vituperation is cutting, its sarcasm searching: but still it is mere vi- by comparing this American novelist with the scourge of tuperation. The philosophy of the maniac, who was American domestic manners, and drawing a parallel beastonished at the officer carrying a sword to kill those tween "Tremordyn Cliff" and "The Linwoods." Both who would so soon die if left alone, might be well studied are strong, but the strength of the latter lies in gentleby writers of this class, who are so valorous in the ness, of the former, in sudden bursts of vivacity-both slaughter of small wits. We must concede to the author are acute observers, but the one finishes her domestic of these poems much power as well as polish of versifi-scenes and characters with a mellow and delicate pencil, cation, and a more than sufficient quantity of that venom, which, like aqua fortis, blackens whilst it burns. There are, through the satirical parts, no delicate touches, nothing that makes us wish to confess a brother in the lampooner, or when he praises, to find a friend in the panegyrist. His maledictory verses are but musical abuse, his eulogium a variation upon the words good, good, good. Besides, we find in these pages many things repulsive to correct taste. What moral purpose can be answered in ill-naturedly recording the obesity of Theodore Hook, or torturing the crookedness of Sir Lumley Skeffington in exhalations of bad jokes? Of the poems professedly satirical we like best, "The Conversazione." Of the serious pieces that follow, we request the author to think seriously, if ever his "Dunciad" should reach another edition. Certainly that caustic poem will not be complete without there be a niche in it constructed to re-tory, and enhanced thereby the interest of her story, ceive the author of "Immortality," " An Ode to the Nativity," and several very pious little hymns. We have found the notes the most amusing part of the work-the more amusing, as the author has shown by quotations that he has been thought worthy of abuse, which is some thing in these days of literary and worthless pretension. Metropolitan.

Miss Sedgwick is one of the few American writers who rose into deserved popularity in their own country, without waiting for the app ving sanction of European critics. By the more trained and fastidious of her countrymen, she is considered the first of American novelists ists; and to us, the character of her mind, as manifested --we should rather say, the first of their female novel. in her works, is essentially feminine-always easy and We incline to think that this, her last work, is her best; graceful-always calm and equable-never extravagant. she has chosen a most interesting period of national bis

without having produced, or, we should imagine, attempted, that most frequent of all failures, a strictly historical novel. Washington, and General Putnam, and Governor Clinton, it is true, all of them figure in her pages, but merely as accessories to the true-hearted, noble Isabella Bessie Lee. Seldom has a sweeter creation risen upon Linwood, and the beautifully gentle and melancholy a novelist's eye than this fair frail-minded girl-broken The works of William Cowper. Edited by the Rev. T. S. down to the dust by the faithlessness of him in whom she Grimshawe, A. M., rector of Burton, and vicar of has trusted, but, even in the midst of the wreck of her Biddenham, author of the Life of the Rev. Legh reason, preserving a child-like and trustful piety, which Richmond." With an essay on the genius and poetry serves her in the stead of Una's lion, and pilots her of Cowper, by the Rev. J. W. Cunningham, A. M., vicar through difficulties and dangers till her errand is safely of Harrow. Saunders and Otley, Conduit street. achieved, Her false city lover is sufficiently detestable; her brother is a noble fellow, a true republican hero; The seventh volume of this ably edited and successful plain in his manners, and scanty in his professions, but edition has, for its frontispiec a well engraved portrait prompt and courageous in his actions, and, besides fervent of Cowper's mother, engraved by E. Finden. It is a affections, bearing in his heart such a high consciousness quiet pleasing face, without any thing remarkably strik-as must pervade the demeanour, and utterly destroy the ing about it. The vignette title-page is also by E. Fin-charge of awkwardness and rudeness. There is no