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tle daily tasks of economy, personal labour, and mental exertion, until her difficulties were become so complicated as to leave very little hope, humanly speaking, of her ever being able to surmount them. The world also (as is the case with all indolent minds) exercised a strong control over her. She was a great gossip in a quiet way: and in consequence she heard much of the common subjects of discourse in the town. It is natural for us to think of what we hear it was not wonderful therefore that she thought much of dress and appearance, and had no power to resist the allurements of these, either for herself or her children: notwithstanding all which, she seemed to have some desire to be religious-she even thought herself so, and spoke of her children as of young people who had a considerable share of piety. Maria saw her difficulties, and pitied that weakness which she attributed to the softness and tenderness of her early education.. She was careful however not to exult over her, as we too naturally do over those who appear not to have done so well in the world as ourselves: on the contrary, she was continually forming plans and contrivances to assist her. But no assistance given to the indolent can be effectual. Maria frequently invited one or other of her cousin's daughters to her house, where she gave them every instruction in her power, and kept them as long as their parents would spare them. But all she did for them abroad was undone at home by the indolent and worldly spirit of the mother: till Maria was at length obliged to give up her generous efforts of assisting her cousin, lest she should injure her own lovely family by frequent evil communication.

The end of these two families was such as might be expected. The young Crofts grew up to be common-place men and women: the girls were pert and useless, possessing very inferior attainments; and the boys turned out mere men of the world; so that none of them afforded any comfort to the declining years of their parents. While the lovely family of the virtuous and active Maria arose up to call their parents blessed; and their children's children were brought up upon their knees.

The lady of the manor here closed the history of Maria; when all her young auditors exclaimed with one voice, that

they thought it a very interesting and profitable story, and hoped that when they married and had families they should remember Maria, and be the better for her example..

"And so," said the lady of the manor, "you are determined not to be better for this story till you are married!"

"How can we profit by it now?" said one or two of the young people in a breath. "We have no husband, no children, no servants, to manage now."

"You have not, it is true, my dear young friends," replied the lady of the manor, "any of these things. But, like Maria, each of you have some specific duties to perform, which cannot be properly performed without renouncing the pomps and vanities of this world. All of you have parents, whose interests and pleasure it is as much your duty to consult and promote, as it was Maria's to study those of her husband. Many of you press hard upon your parents' purses to provide yourselves with new and fashionable dresses, trinkets, and amusements. And those among you whose parents are rich, by the indulgence of fancied wants and vain pursuits, are robbing the poor of what might be given in charity. There is no situation, no age, no rank, my dear young people, which can justify a female in pursuing the vanities of dress and appearance."

Here the lady of the manor, looking at her watch, was surprised to find that the usual hour for the young ladies returning home was considerably passed. She therefore broke off her discourse somewhat abruptly; adding, that she had much more to say on the very fertile subject of the pomps and vanities of this wicked world, but that, as the evening was so far advanced, she must postpone the remainder of her discourse till their next meeting. She then knelt down to prayer, the young people gathering around her, and joining her in that devotional act with much apparent humility and sincerity of heart.

Prayer of the Lady of the Manor on the Renunciation of the Pomps and Vanities of this Wicked World.

"O THOU high and mighty One, which inhabiteth eternity, thou glorious and mysterious Three in One, whom we adore, look down with pity upon us thy poor dependent VOL. I.

P

creatures who are now assembled at the footstool of thy throne. We do not presume to approach thee in our own names, or confiding in our own merits; for we are indeed vile and abominable-creatures of unclean lips, and utterly unworthy. But we draw nigh unto thee, depending upon the merits of our Saviour, in whom alone we place all our hope of acceptance. For his sake, therefore, O Lord, grant us that favour which we are at this time more espe cially led to supplicate at thy hand. We are, O Lord, aware of the peculiar weakness of our sex in its liability to be attracted by the empty pomps and vanities of this world -we own our attachment to these worthless things; we confess their power over our hearts; and we desire to be set free from their degrading and contemptible influence. We know, O Lord, that without thy assistance we shall be utterly incapable of breaking their yoke from off our necks, or of renouncing in any degree their dominion over us: and although we are convinced that by gaining the whole world, and losing our own soul, we should be nothing profited— but on the contrary rendered everlastingly and deplorably miserable-yet such is the power of sin over our hearts, that all resistance to it must prove utterly ineffectual, if help is not given us from on high. We therefore humbly beseech thee, O heavenly Father, to grant that we may not be numbered among the vain, the gay, and the sinful daughters of the world; but that, being separated from these, we may devote the days of health, of youth, and freedom from care, not to the vain pleasures and pomps of this world, but to the acquirement of such habits, and the attainment of such knowledge, as may make us useful members of society, and faithful servants of thy dear Son, in whatsoever situations it may please thee, O Lord, to establish us.

"And now to God the Father," &c.

Second Conversation on the Pomps and Vanities of this Wicked World.

THE young people being met together once more at the manor-house, the lady of the manor thus addressed them. "My dear young friends," she said, "as you did not seem to feel the case of Maria, as being a married woman, so exactly adapted to your own present situations as I could wish, I shall this day entertain you with a story upon the same subject, namely, the renunciation of the pomps and vanities of this wicked world, which, as it refers to a very young and unmarried person, I trust you may find more applicable to your own cases.

"It may appear to you, from the history of Maria, that her self-denial was the less praiseworthy, because it was necessary to the well-being of her family. I am now going to bring before you an instance in which economy and selfdenial were practised, I will not say from higher motives than those of Maria, but from motives in which self-interest could have no part, and in a sphere of life in which selfdenial seldom forms a feature of the character." The lady of the manor then unfolded her manuscript, and read as follows.

The Economy of Charity.

Lady Harriet Mowbray, a daughter of the Earl of G―, was left a widow, at the age of thirty-five, with two sons and four daughters. Her circumstances were good: but in order to increase the fortunes of her younger children, though they were not unhandsomely provided for by

their father, she gave up her town-house immediately after the death of her husband, and retired to a beautiful country-house, which was in the possession of the family, in one of the most picturesque counties of England. In this retirement, with her six children, their governess and tutor, she passed her time in such a way as a prudent worldly character might be expected to do; in paying some attention to the improvement of her children, in cultivating an acquaintance with a few reputable families in the neighbourhood, in performing occasional acts of charity, and in making filagree screens and boxes of card-board.

The names of Lady Harriet's daughters were, Jane, Celia, Dorothea, and Fanny. Her sons were Robert and Gerard, and Miss Hartley was the governess appointed to the care of the young ladies. In addition to this family, was a niece of Lady Harriet, a young Lady who, having lost her parents, was received into her aunt's family, to be educated with her cousins. She was one year younger than Dorothea, the third daughter of Lady Harriet, and bore so strong a family resemblance to her young relations, that she commonly passed among them as a fifth sister. The name of this young lady was Margarita; and although deprived of her parents, she was in other respects well provided for, having a very sufficient property settled upon her. Having now introduced my readers to some of the personages who are to make the principal figures in my history, I proceed to describe their modes of life and usual Ι habits.

Lady Harriet rose late, and those who visited her in a morning would generally find her sitting in her drawingroom in an elegant dishabille, having a table before her scattered over with specimens of gilt and coloured papers, half-finished drawings, the latest pamphlets and novels, pencils, pens, card-paper, and crayons: all of which gave a certain air of je ne sais quoi to the apartment, and afforded occasion to many persons to say, "What an accomplished woman is Lady Harriet Mowbray !"

In summer-time the windows of this drawing-room were always thrown up, their upper-compartments being shaded by Venetian blinds: and as the view from these windows was exquisitely beautiful, these external beauties were no bad finish to the picture; especially as the odour of many