sense Willy attached to it. I hope you'll not chide him very severely; for the fault was more than half mine, in using so unfortunate an expression.'

'Why should you suppose I should say anything to Willy about it?' asked Mrs. Willis, looking up to her friend with a smile.

'Oh! I know you are very particular to have your children speak properly to others, and I think you are right. I heard you reprove Willy very severely yesterday for calling little Chloe 'an old black girl.'

'Because Willy was angry with Chloe, and showed an unkind spirit. I was surprised and sorry to hear him, for I had no idea he had learned so young to deem poor Chloe's color a reproach. In calling Miss Merrill homely, he was actuated by no such motive.'

'True, my dear Mrs. Willis. Still, had it been my own child, I I should have felt that I must at least tell him that the remark was uncivil, and caution him against being quite so blunt in future. I know you will not be offended with me, dear Emeline.'

'No, dear Mary; we have known and loved each other too long and too well for you to suppose I should be offended with you because you differ from me in opinion, and tell me so frankly. You know I love frankness almost above everything. But let me explain myself a little more fully. I have two reasons for not noticing this little affair. Willy, you know, is himself decidedly plain, much more so than George or Susy. He came to me one day a few weeks since, much grieved, because George had been foolish enough to tell him so. I don't think the idea of the comparative beauty of countenances had ever entered his little head before. 'I'm as handsome as George, am I not, mother?' he said, sobbing. I took him on my lap, and told him he was not; that George had more handsome features than he, and so had Susy. But I added that this was a matter that sensible people thought of very little consequence; that those children who behaved best were considered most agreeable. I pointed out to him the goodness and love of God in giving us a taste for the beautiful, and so many means of gratifying it; referred to the flowers, many of which seemed made for this purpose alone. But human beings, I told him, were made for higher purposes, and it was of little consequence whether their features were such as to please the eyes of men, if only their life and character were pleasing to God. A great deal more I said to

him, and finally he seemed to consider the new ideas he had acquired concerning beauty as a source of pleasure and amusement. He began to enumerate his friends, pointing out whom he thought beautiful and whom otherwise, and asking my opinion. I gave it freely, as if upon a perfectly indifferent matter. Miss Merrill, we both agreed, was quite plain, but so good that we loved to look at her. He will discover quite soon enough, that everybody is not quite so indifferent to beauty as I would have him. I would rather he should not make this discovery till his own feelings concerning it are more fully established. But I fear I have so wearied you with this long exposition of my first reason, that you will hardly have patience to listen to my second.'

'Oh! no, go on. Though I am quite convinced already that you are right.'

'The other is, that I cannot bear needlessly to mar the simplicity of a child's character. There is to me something delightful in the spontaneous outbursts of their little hearts. I love to leave them, as far as possible, to act out their guileless natures.'

'You are not a believer in the doctrine of infant purity, Emeline,' said Mrs. Warner, smiling.

'No. You know I am not. I recognize and mourn the sinful propensities of their little hearts, and the evidence they daily give that they belong to a fallen race. But fallen as human nature is, it still retains something of its original loveliness. And one of the most beautiful features of untaught childhood, is, to me, its utter artlessness. So fearful am I of sullying this delightful trait, that, rather than run the risk of doing so, I prefer to have my children remain in ignorance of many rules and customs usually deemed essential in polite society.'

'And do you really mean to say, Emeline, that you disapprove of the refinements and courtesies of polite society? Would you have us all act out ourselves and express our opinions as bluntly as Willy did to-day? If such is your creed, you must pardon my saying that you sadly fail of living up to it.'

'I have no such creed, dear Mary. On the contrary, I consider the customs of polite society as parts of itself, necessary to be understood and practised by all who would be admitted within its pale. Nor have I any fellowship with that levelling system which would place all sorts of people, no matter what their previous education or

habits, on a footing of equal intimacy, provided only, that all are equally good. I believe there always will and must be a distinction of rank, and that this distinction is a wise arrangement of God for the good of society.'

'And on what would you have this distinction founded? Not on wealth, surely.'

'No, not on wealth. And yet wealth will always have more or less to do with it. There is one reason why it must naturally be so. Those who have most wealth have the greatest means of purchasing for themselves the refinements and luxuries of education and habit. As a general rule, to which, I grant you, there are multitudes of exceptions, the wealthy are the refined, and the refined are the wealthy. But I would have refinement, and not wealth, the foundation of the distinction to which I have alluded; refinement with or without wealth.'

'But not without virtue, Emeline.'

'No. There can be no true refinement associated with vice. Yet virtue alone will not, cannot, ought not, to be the ground of this distinction of rank. At least, so I think. I would love and honor virtue equally wherever I see it, but I cannot make one an intimate friend, simply because he is virtuous; can I, Mary?'

'No, your natural tastes must be similar.'

'Yes; and our acquired tastes too, our customs and habits; our modes of thinking, acting, and living. If these have been wholly dissimilar, they will, at least, diminish the pleasures of intimacy, if they do not render it wholly impossible. I wish everybody would acquiesce cheerfully in this obvious truth. What a world of vexations, heart-aches, envies, jealousies, and all sorts of uncomfortable feelings, it would save! There are plenty of good people whose circumstances and habits are similar to my own, from whom I may choose my friends. Why should I desire intimacy with those whose superior wealth enables them to command and enjoy a thousand luxuries to which I am wholly unaccustomed? Were such an intimacy brought about, either they must forego, in their intercourse with me, many things which custom has rendered highly desirable to them, or I must make a painful and probably awkward effort to conform to customs which, being unused to, would only be an annoyance to me.'

'But do you not think it foolish for very rich people to spend so much as they do, merely for the sake of living in splendor and luxury?'

'Whom do you mean by "very rich people," dear Mary? I know hundreds of good people who would apply this epithet to you and me, and who think our mode of life very extravagant, because it is so much more expensive than theirs. We are none of us capable of judging what is fitting for those whose means are superior to our own. Much of the judging and censuring of this sort which abounds in the world, could it be traced to its true source, would, I believe, be found to spring from envy. "Very rich people" have a perfect right to their luxuries, provided they do not purchase them by the neglect of any duty to God, to themselves, or to others. Of this they must judge for themselves.'

'But there will be no distinction between the high and the low in another world.'

'Most true, dear Mary. This truth I would never lose sight of. And while I would teach my children, as soon as they become of proper age, to pay due regard to these external and temporary distinctions, I would, at the same time, teach them that these are of but very little consequence in comparison to the more important distinction between the good and the bad, the holy and the unholy. I would impress upon their minds that this last is the only permanent distinction, the only one which God will regard in the final award of justice to men. In one word, my dear friend, while I would not, in the education of my children, wholly disregard the claims of form, I would strive first and most earnestly to lay the foundation of correct, pure, and holy principle.'

October, 1846.

HUMILITY.

BY JAMES HURDIS.

The storm,

Which makes the high elm bend, and rends the oak,

The humble lily spares. A thousand blows,
Which shake the lofty monarch on his throne,
We lesser folks feel not. Keen are the pangs
Advancement often brings. To be secure,
Be humble. To be happy, be content.

LITERARY NOTICES.

WELLS'S SCHOOL GRAMMAR.- Andover, Mass. Published by Allen, Morrill, & Wardwell.

All sorts of persons undertake to make books of Grammar; some few who are qualified and many who are incompetent, each disparaging his predecessor's, and eulogising his own. The fault of most of the books on English grammar is, that the most prominent thing about them is the notions of the author.

But here is a work free from these objections. The author is a man of good, strong, common sense. To this important qualification he brings to his aid, sound erudition, a great fund of practical knowledge, and a vast amount of study and research. It is an excellent treatise; we will not say the best ever made, but it has excellences not found in any other.

OUTLINES OF SACRED HISTORY. - Philadelphia: Published by E. C. & J. Biddle.

This work was originally published in London, by the Society for promoting Christian Knowledge. The narration commences with the creation of the world, and extends to the destruction of Jerusalem. The work is illustrated with numerous engravings, and has a chronological index. To adapt it to the use of schools and families, there are questions for examination.

LEGAL RIGHTS OF WOMEN.-By Edward D. Mansfield, A. M. Published by John P. Jewett & Co., Boston.

This is rather a novel undertaking. It treats of the legal rights, liabilities and duties of women, and has an introductory history of their legal condition in the Hebrew, Roman, and Feudal civil systems. It also includes the law of marriage and divorce, the social relations of husband and wife, parent and child, of guardian and ward, and of employer and employed.

We find that, in the same proportion as women are elevated in mind and in heart, just in the same proportion is a nation elevated in all the constituent elements of greatness. For men, therefore, of discernment and practical wisdom to give attention to these things, is highly commendable. In this country, to our praise be it spoken, the civil disabilities of women are less, and their influence in society is greater, than in any other country in the world. Still, there is something remains to be done, and we are happy to know, that there appears to be an increasing disposition to do it.

SOLITUDE AND SOCIETY.-By John R. Bolles, of New London, Ct.

The sentiments inculcated in this book of poems, are of a pure and noble character, though the poetry is not of the highest order. We rarely take into our hands a book so beautiful and substantial in all its mechanical execution. We take the following lines from the 17th page. They contain excellent advice.

'Where duty points, there let thy footsteps tend,
Regardless who's thy foe if God 's thy friend."