wedgewood and queen wares', glass' and chinà, of scouring', annealing', joining', &c. The lad profited by his father's instructions', and was likely', in due time', with sufficient practice', to understand his business very well. It is seldom, however', that people are satisfied with their situation', and hence their misery and disappointment.

"The old cobbler of earthen-ware' was desirous that his son should know all the new mysteries of the trade. He sent him to the metropolis to profit by the instructions of the most eminent artisans in his line. Now it is well known', that in the metropolis' every one follows a separate branch of business', and has a peculiar method of his own. The lad had several artists to attend; each was full of his own importance', and condemned the practice of his brethren.

"The novice imbibed all their discordant sentiments', without giving himself the trouble to reflect whether they were founded in reason', or sanctioned by experiencè. One taught him to scour out pitchers by a new process'; another', to mend tea-pots by a peculiar cement'; a third', to rivet bread-baskets and cups by a mode unknown in the country.

"The men he studied under' were adroit enough in their respective little walks'; but they had no notion of the general business.

"The young mender of earthen-ware, however', soon thought himself so wise^, and became so much a slave to the opinions of his masters', that he despised all the mysteries he had learned from his father', and fancied himself the first genius of the craft.

"He returned to the country', full of himself and his acquirements'; he boasted of the difficult jobs he had performed', and the wonders he had seen'; ridiculed the modes of operation he had originally been taught', and nearly staggered the faith of some who had grown veterans in the trade. His father', too', thought him wiser than himself', and often stood in mute astonishment to hear him talk of cementing cups which had been broken into a hundred pieces', of adding a handle to one utensil', and a spout' to another.

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Talking, however', was all that he had yet performed': but his vanity and conceit were immense', and he longed to exhibit his skill. Some friends of his father were willing to trust him with a job'-and thought he might be a prodigy; and it is even said that cooks' were willing to have some things broken' that they might have the pleasure of seeing him make them as good as they were when new.

"In attempting. however', to mend a slight crack in a cream

pot by a new discovery', he let it slip through his fingers', and spoiled a whole set of tea-table equipage. In scouring out a jar that had become crusted with mince-pies and sweetmeats', he unfortunately made a hole on the side'; the spout of a vessel that wanted only some little repairs', he quite broke off by his bungling', and sent it home with a tin tube. Other accidents happened in his hands'; but he was still equally conceited', and proud' of the secrets he had learned. His failings he always ascribed to causes not in his power to prevent'; they might have happened to the most knowing of the craft'; the materials he had to work upon' were bad, or the common tools' were improper.

"At last his father saw through his shallow pretensions', and found that business was failing from his presumption.

"John',' said he', 'I thought you might have gained some improvement in town^, and therefore I was at the expense of putting you under the best masters in the trade`; but I find that you have only gained conceit', which teaches you to despise others', and will infallibly make yoû despised. My customers will not submit to your new-fangled experiments. If you really know any valuable discoveries in the craft', show them by your practice`; but never boast of them. Believe me', one ounce of practice is worth a pound' of theory. It is not what you think you know', but what you can actually perform', that will make you a good mender of earthen-ware', or a wise man. Mind me, leave vanity and conceit', and stick to experience, or you will lose the business of the old established shop', and ruin your own character.'"

We are not told what effect this judicious advice had upon him; nor do we know what influence this story had upon Edward', whose importance was so much increased by his new hat and shining cane. Vanity and conceit are contemptible' wherever they are found.

LESSON XXXIII.

WEALTH AND FASHION.

"WHAT a pity it is," said Caroline, throwing aside her book', "that we are born under a republican government!

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Upon my word," said her brother Horace'," that is a patriotic observation' for an American'."

"O`, I know^,” replied the sister', " that it is not a popular^ one'; we must all join in the cry of liberty and equality', and

bless our stars that we have neither kings nor emperors to rule over us', and that our first audible squeak was republican. If we don't join' in the shout', and hang our hats on hickory trees or liberty poles', we are considered unnatural monsters. For my part', I am tired of it', and I am determined to say what Ỉ think. I hate republicanism`; I hate liberty and equality'; and I don't hesitate to declare', that I am for a monarchy. You may laûgh, but I would say it at the stake'."

"Bravo!" exclaimed Horace; "why you have almost run yourself out of breath', Cara'. ;* you deserve to be prime minister to the king^."

"You mistake'," replied she with dignity', "I have no wish to mingle in political broils', not even if I could be as renowned as Pitt or Fox; but I must say, I think ōur equālīty' is ōdious. What do you think' ? To-day the new chamber-maid put her head into the door, and said', “Caroline'! your marm wants you'."

"Excellent," said Horace', clapping his hands, and laughing', "I suppose if ours were a monarchical government', she would have bent one knee to the ground', or saluted your little foot', before she spoke."

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No, Horace', you know there are no such forms as those', except in the pàpál domìnions'. I believe his holiness the pope' requires such a ceremony'."

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Perhaps you would like to be a pope'?”

"No! I am no Roman Catholic."

May I ask your highness' what you would like to be'?" "I should like," said she', glancing at the glass', "I should like to be a countess'."

You are moderate' in your ambition'; a còuntess,' nowadays', is the fag end of nobility'."

"O'! but it sounds sô delightfully"^"_" The young Countess' Carolinē!”

"If sound is all', you shall have that pleasuré; we will call you the young Countess Cároline^."

"That would be mère burlêsque, Horacé, and would make me ridiculous'."

"There," replied Horacé; "nothing can be more inconsist ent for us than aiming at titles."

"For ûs, I grant you," replied Caroline, "but if they were hereditary', if we had been born to them', if they came to us through belted knights', and high-born dames', then we might be proud to wear them'. I never shall cease to regret that I was not born under a monarchy."

* Abbreviation for Caroline.

"You seem to forget," said Horacé, "that all are not lords and la^dies' in the ròyál dominions'. Suppose your first squeak^, as you call it', should have been among the plebeians' ;* suppôse it should have been your lot' to crouch and bend', or be trodden' under foot by some titled personagé, whom in your heart you despised; what then'?"

"You may easily suppose, that I did not mean to take those chances'. Nò, I meant to be born among the higher ranks." “Your own reason must tell you' that all cannot be born among the higher ranks, for then the lower ones' would be wanting', which constitute the comparison'. Now', Caroline', we come to the very point. Is it not better to be born under a government', in which there is the extreme neither of high' nor low; where one man cannot be raised pre-eminently' over another'; and where our nobility consists of talent^ and virtué ?" “That sounds vērý patriotic,' brother'," said Caroline', with a laugh; "but I am inclined to think' that wealth' constitutes our` nobility', and the right of abùsing' each other', our lìberty'."

"You are as fond of aphorisms as ever Lavater was,” replied Horace', good humoredly; "but they are not always true."

I will just ask you'," returned she, “if our rich men, who ride in their own carriages', who have fine houses', and who count by millions, are not our great mén?"

"They have all the greatness that money can buy'; but this is a very limited one.”

"In my opinion," said Caroliné, " money is power."

"You mistake," returned Horace; "money may buy a tem`porary power', but talent is power itself; and when united to vir tué, a God`liké pow`ér, one before which the mere man of millions' quails. Nò, give me talents, health`and unwavering principle, and I will not ask for wealth', but I will carve my own way; and depend upon it', wealth' will be honorably

mine."

"Well, Horacé, I am sure I heartily wish you the possession of all together',—talent`, principlé, and wealth. Really', without flattery', the two first you havè; and the last', according to your own ideá, will come when you beckon to it'. Now I can tell you, that I feel as determined as you dó, to carve my own way.' I see you smile', but I have always believed that we could accomplish what we steadily will. Depend upon it', the time is not distant, when you shall see me in possession of all that` rank which any one can obtain in our plebeian country." * Pronounced ple-bee-ans.

LESSON XXXIV.

THE HUNTERS OF THE PRAIRIE.

THE night had covered the earth with a thin robe of snow. As the morning dawned', we saw a deer straining across the prairie, as if urged by some imminent peril. He went at full bounds, and looked not behind. For a long time we watched his progress'; and though he flew onward with great rapidity', such was the vast level over which he passed', that after a while he seemed rather to creep than run. By degrees he dwindled in sizé, till he appeared but a speck. At length he reached the hills', which lay like a flight of steps' at the foot of the Rocky mountains; and', as he ascended them', he seemed an insect crawling over a sheet of white paper.

Scarcely was he lost to view, when a pack of eight wolves of the prairie were seen on his track', speeding forward with that eagerness which characterizes the race. Two were in advance of the rest', with their noses upon the ground; yet proceeding with a directness', expressive at once of assurance and detern.ination. The rest followed, as if they placed implicit reliance upon their leaders. On' they went', and long before they reached the mountains', they were lost to our view.

It was a scene that suggested a long train of musings. One might have fancied' that peace would hold her reign over the solitudé, as yet disturbed by no intrusive footsteps of man. Far away was the oceàn; far away the busy marts along its border', whose bosoms', like the fretted seá, are agitated with the surges of contending billows. Before us was the spotless prairié, untouched and unsullied', pure with a mantle thrown over it from heaven. Yet here were things to remind us of scenes which are witnessed by human society. There was, indeed, no buying and selling'; yet that poor animal fled like a debtor', and those blood-hounds of the forest' pursued like greedy sheriffs. There was here no distinction of sects', no diversity of creèds; yet that pacific deer might seem a Quaker of the forest', carrying his non-combative* doctrines to the utmost extent. Poor fellow'! both he, and William Penn', his great prototypé, alike found that a peaceful life is not a sure protection against the malice of the world around.

Fancies like these crossed my mind', till other scenes suggested other thoughts', and the deèr and the wolves' were for

* A new-coined word.