are easily discovered. what is the truth?" Ask your conscience frankly, I "Mamma," said Eudosia, a little confused, "I assure you that at first I never thought that it was that." "I believe it, my child; it is a feeling which we indulge without being aware of it. Many people do so, and think that the defects of others heighten their merit. But tell me, my Eudosia, would there not be a higher pleasure in being superior to those people, than in being superior to your companions in activity and application?" Eudosia agreed, and resolved to become so. She was always glad when her duty was pointed out to her, so great was her pleasure in doing it. Having gone down stairs to look for something in the room next to the drawing-room, the door of which was open, she overheard Madame de Croissy saying to Madame de Rivey, "I always said that Mademoiselle Eudosia would never be anything but a little pedant." Madame de Rivey, although fond of Eudosia, agreed that she was more occupied in criticizing her companions than in associating with them. "That would compromise her dignity," replied Madame de Croissy. From that time, Eudosia tried to overcome her repugnance and timidity; she joined in her companions' amusements more frequently, and seemed to take pleasure in doing so. But, becoming familiar with them, she told them her thoughts more freely, and when she could not induce them to listen to reason, she left them with expressions of impatience, which she could not suppress. 66 66 66 Why are you angry?" said her mother to her one day; "are you offended? are others wanting in their duty to you, when they are less reasonable than you?" No, mamma; but they are wanting in their duty when they are not reasonable, and that makes me angry." Listen, Eudosia," said her mother. Do you remember how angry you used to be with your cousin Constance, because, never looking before her, she threw down everything that came in her way? One day you happened, by a heedlessness of the same kind, to throw down my writing table; if I remember rightly, from that day you were never angry with Constance." "Oh no, mamma, I assure you." "Did you think the fault less then, because you had fallen into it!" "Quite the contrary, mamma; but that showed me that it was more difficult to avoid, than I had thought before." "That is what experience teaches us every day, my child, of faults which we did not know before. Thus," added she, laughing, "I do not despair of seeing you indulgent towards those young ladies, if you learn some day in the same manner, that it is very difficult not to be an arguer like Julia, a storyteller like Adèle, and a romp like Honorine!" "As to that, mamma," replied Eudosia, quickly, " that is what I shall never learn." "Are you then made differently from them, that you think what seems so easy to them would be impossible to you?" "Yes, I believe so," replied Eudosia, much piqued. "How then, in that case," continued her mother, smiling, "can you require of them the same as of yourself? You do not expect Julia, who is shorter than you, to reach so high; you only expect it of Honorine, who is the same height." 66 and not those of others; think then only of your own. Do you think it just and right, that you should enjoy the pleasure of feeling that you are better than they, and yet at the same time be angry with them for not being as good as you?" Mamma, is it right, then, to think that one is better than others!" 66 Yes, my child; for to think that one is better than others, is simply to feel that one has more strength, more mind, more means of doing good, and consequently to feel that one is bound to do more." This conversation gave Eudosia a feeling of satisfae tion which made her more indulgent, more patient with her companions; but in this indulgence might be observed perhaps a little pride; she had something of the kindness of a superior person, never losing her self-pe session, so much above others that she was not hurt if they did not act as well as herself. Eudosia insensibly acquired the habit of considering her companions, and almost of treating them. like children. One day that the four girls when sitting together compared their work, and that Honorine's, the same as Eudosia's, was found to be not nearly so well done: "That stitch is very difficult," said she, with the air of one excusing a child of six years old. She did not seem to imagine that the same reason might apply to her. The others began to laugh. Go on," said Honorine, "you see that Eudosia has the goodness to protect me." Eudosia felt so hurt that the tears came to her ers She was satisfied with herself, thought she had argy to be so, and met only with injustice and ridicule. She again began to separate herself from her companions. Her mother observed it, and wished to know the reason. Eudosia felt some difficulty in explaining it, although she did not think she had done wrong; let she felt ashamed of the ridicule which had been thrown on her. At last, however, she told her. "You were angry then at Honorine's imagining that you wished to protect her," said Madame d'Aubane, it appears then that you would have thought it very ridiculous?" "Oh! mamma, it is not necessary for it to be riderlous to make them laugh at it." But tell me, Eudosia, if they had happened to langi, at you because you love me, because you listen to and do all that I wish, would that have grieved you!” "No, indeed, mamma; it would have been my turt to laugh at them." Why, then, did you not do so when they laughed at the tone which you had taken with Honorine! If yo considered this patronizing manner the most suitabl what signifies it if they thought otherwise? Are not you more sensible than they, and consequently better able to judge?" Mamma," said Eudosia, after a moment's silence, "I now think I was wrong to take up a tone towards Honorine which displeased her; but I only wished to show indulgence for the mistakes which she had made in her work." My child, we must have indulgence for the fan'ts of every one, but not make it be felt by those whose conduct does not concern us, except when it is their own desire. In any other case, as we are not called upon to reprove them, neither are we to pardon them; it is a right which we cannot take unless they give it to us." But what should we do then, mamma, when they But, mamma," said Eudosia, after a moment's re-commit faults?" flection, "should they think then that, because they are less sensible than others, they are at liberty to do less!" They would be wrong to think so, my child; for every one is called upon to do all the good in his power. But every one also is enjoined to examine his own duties, (1) Surely there may be a moral, as well as an intellectual pedantry. Trans. "Not see them, if possible, instead of excusing er diminishing them; for instance, to point out something in Honorine's work that was well done, that what was badly done might not be observed. But in order to that, you must not be glad to have found your work better than hers; you must place all your pride in beg superior to those little advantages." Eudosia profited by all that her mother said to her. and improved every day in gentleness and sociability. | round this enchanting island; while hundreds of the Madame de Croissy had nothing to say of her, her com- white divers, saw-bill ducks with scarlet heads, teal, panions began to take pleasure in her society. Eudosia and other aquatic birds, sported at once on the calm heard all their secrets, at least as many as she would waters! At the discharge of a gun from the shore, these hear: and, when she saw the fear, the anxiety, which feathered beauties all disappeared at once, as if by magic, their inconsiderate conduct often caused them, saw them and in an instant rose to view in different places. blush at the least word which seemed to allude to a How much they seemed to enjoy that life which was fault which they had concealed, and saw them treat her new to them-for they were the young broods first led with a kind of deference which they no longer denied to forth to sport upon the waters-while the fixed attitude her superior sense, since it was no longer exerted at and lofty port of the large birds of prey, who were their expense, she constantly felt more and more how ranged upon the sandy shelf, formed an inverted picture great is the pleasure of self-respect. on the same clear mirror, and were a pleasing contrast to the playful multitude around! These they never attempted to disturb, well aware of the facility of escape which their old retreats afforded them. Such of my readers as have had patience to follow me to this favourite isle, will be, ere now, as much bewildered as I have often been myself on its luxuriant shores. "And yet," said her mother, "you are still far from knowing all its value; you will never know it until you have paid what it is worth, until you have purchased it by difficult sacrifices.” And Eudosia could not believe that any sacrifice would be difficult in order to obtain it. (To be continued.) DESCRIPTION OF AN ISLAND ON HUDSON WHEN IN POSSESSION OF ONE OF THE FIRST SETTLERS. OPPOSITE to the grounds lay an island, above a mile in length, and about a quarter in breadth, which also belonged to the Colonel. Exquisitely beautiful it was, and, though the haunt I most delighted in, it is not in my power to describe it. Imagine a little Egypt, yearly overflowed, and of the most abundant fertility. This charming spot was at first covered with wood, like the rest of the country, except a long field in the middle, where the Indians had probably cultivated maize; round this was a broad shelving border, where the grey and weeping willows, the bending osier, and numberless aquatic plants not known in this country, were allowed to flourish in the utmost luxuriance, while within, some tall sycamores and wild-fruit trees towered above the rest. Thus was formed a broad belt, which in winter proved an impenetrable barrier against the broken ice, and in summer was the haunt of numberless birds and small animals, who dwelt in perfect safety, it being im possible to penetrate it. Numberless were the productions of this luxuriant spot; never was a richer field for a botanist; for though the ice was kept off, the turbid waters of the spring flood overflowed it annually, and not only deposited a rich sediment, but left the seeds of various plants swept from the shores it had passed by. The centre of the island, which was much higher than the sides, produced, with a slight degree of culture, the most abundant crops of wheat, hay, and flax. At the end of this island, which was exactly opposite to the family mansion, a long sand-bank extended; on this was a very valuable fishing place, of which a considerable profit might be made. In summer, when the water was low, this narrow stripe (for such it was) came in sight, and furnished an amusing spectacle; for there the bald, or white-headed eagle, (a large picturesque bird, very frequent in this country,) the osprey, the heron, and the curlew, used to stand in great numbers in a long row, like a military arrangement, for a whole summer day, fishing for perch, and a kind of freshwater herring, which abounded there. At the same season a variety of wild ducks, who bred on the shores of the island, (among which was a small white diver of an elegant form,) led forth their young to try their first excursion. What a scene have I beheld on a calm summer evening! There, indeed, were "fringed banks," richly fringed and wonderfully variegated; where every imaginable shade of colour mingled, and where life teemed prolific on every side; the river, a perfect mirror, reflecting the pine-covered hills opposite; and the pliant shoots, that bent without a wind, (1) From Mrs. Grant's Memoirs of an American Lady. Poetry. [In Original Poetry, the Name, real or assumed, of the Author, is printed in Small Capitals under the title; in Selections, it is printed in Italics at the end.] PAST-PRESENT-FUTURE. BY H. I. THORNTON. THE past, ah! say, what is the past? The present-what is it to man, No sooner here, but gone; The future, idol of the heart, FANNY LEIGH. In that meek, blue-eyed child. Her soft young hands, she did not fear, How blest, for her to wipe their tear, And she hath left the rose-clad cot, From youth's one home to part, (1) See Engraving, p. 289. None saw the drops that dimm'd her eye, When a sad breeze and keen Came answering with a long-lorn sigh Forth hath she gone-a summer boat Skims o'er the glassy bay With slender strength-nor dreads to float Forth hath she gone, from dewy field, Where Innocence is shamed to quail Forth so she went, yet mid the pest, The blast of noxious night; A lamp burn'd stedfast at her breast, And cast its certain light. And oft she heard a mellow'd tone A Voice that loves the pure and lone, O! there was joy, even unto pain, When, pass'd those days so drear, As music, Fanny's steps again Fell on each aged one's ear. And who, the gladdest of the glad, Is 't he who then a very lad 'Tis he, who while he fed his flowers, Miscellaneous. "I have here made only a nosegay of culled flowers, and have brought nothing of my own, but the string that ties them."-Montaigne. "LADY ELEANOR DAVIES, the wife of the celebrated Sir John Davies, the poet, was a very extraordinary character. She was the Cassandra of her age; and several of her predictions warranted her to conceive she was a prophetess. As her prophecies in the troubled times of Charles I. were usually against the government, she was at length brought by them into the Court of High Commission. The prophetess was not a little mad, and fancied the spirit of Daniel was in her, from an anagram she had formed of her name, Eleanor Davies. Reveal O Daniel! The anagram had too much by an L, and too little by an S; yet Daniel and reveal were in it, and that was sufficient to satisfy her inspirations. The Court attempted to dispossess the spirit from the lady, while the bishops were in vain reasoning the point with her out of the Scriptures, to no purpose, she poising text against text. One of the deans of the Arches, says Heylin, shot her through and through with an arrow borrowed from her own quiver; he took a pen, and at last hit upon this elegant anagram: Dame Eleanor Davies. Never so mad a Ladie! Foiled by her own weapons, her spirit suddenly forsock her; and either she never afterwards ventured on prophesying, or the anagram perpetually reminded her hearers of her state-for we hear no more of this prophetess.-Curiosities of Literature. NATURALISTS assert that animals and birds, as well as "knotted oaks," as Congreve informs us, are sensible to the charms of music. This may serve as an instance- | "An officer was confined to the Bastile; he begged the Governor to permit him the use of his lute, to soften, by the harmonies of his instrument, the rigours of his prison. At the end of a few days, this modern Orpheus, | playing on his lute, was greatly astonished to see, frisking out of their holes, great numbers of mice; and, descending from their woven habitations, crowds of spiders; who formed a circle about him, while he continued breathing his soul-subduing instrument. He was petrified with astonishment. Having ceased to play, the assembly, who did not come to see his person, but to hear his instrument, immediately broke up. As he had a great dislike to spiders, it was two days before he ventured again to touch his instrument. At length, having overcome, for the novelty of his company, his dislike of them, he recommenced his concert; when the assembly was by far more numerous than at first; and in the course of further time, he found himself str rounded by a hundred musical amateurs. Having thus succeeded in attracting this company, he treacherously contrived to get rid of them at his will. For this pur pose he begged the keeper to give him a cat, which he kept in a cage, and let loose at the very instant when | the little hairy people were most entranced by the Orphean skill he displayed.”—Curiosities of Literature. THERE are no principles but those of religion to be depended on in cases of real distress; and these are able to encounter the worst emergencies, and to bear us up under all the changes and chances to which our life is subject.-Sterne. TO CONDOG, V. n. We should be unwilling to re-in troduce this word into common conversation, though it is legitimately compounded and derived, and of old wa not unfrequently used. We bring it forward on accoup' of the following tradition. It is said that when 1. Adam Littleton was compiling his Latin and English Dictionary, he employed an amanuensis, who wrote at his dictation, and when they came to the word “concurro," the amanuensis asked, "To concur, I supp Sir?" "To condog, I suppose, Sir," was the Doctor's reply and accordingly condog was set down. Whether the tradition be true or false, certain it is, that in one of the dictionaries, 1678, 4to, the first meaning given to concurro is "to condog." But we doubt the truth of the story. The word is found in Lyly's Galathea, “the just proportion of the fire and all things concurre." 66 Concurre, condogge, I will away." Also in Heywood's Royal King and Loyal Subject;" and in the second edition of The English Dictionarie, by H. C. [Cockeram] gent. 12mo, 1626, second part," to Agree, ConcLITY, Condog, Condiscend." TROUBLE is a thing that will come without our call but true joy will not spring up without ourselvesBishop Patrick's "Heartsease." The Title and Index to the first Volume may be had, pre 1d.; also, the Covers, price 1s. 3d. The happy fancy put the solemn Court into laughter, London:-Published by T. B. SHARPE, 15, Skinner Street, Snow- 2 and Cassandra into the utmost dejection of spirit. Printed by R. CLAY, Bread Street Hill. A GLANCE AT MARIENBERG, AT BOPPARD ON THE RHINE. A SKETCH. WHETHER faith in the efficacy of cold water as a erapeutic agent be in the ascendant, or whether, aving reached its zenith, it is now making its escent, is a problem we pretend not to solve, as uch is said on both sides; some persons affirming at the healing virtue of this liquid begins only ow to be known, while as many others maintain at, like various remedies from time to time proaimed as effectual for all ailments, it has had its ay, and, with its predecessor-specifics, will speedily nk into oblivion. universal power for which its most devoted adherents argue, having, for our part, only a modicum of faith therein. Of the benefits arising from a plentiful use of water in general, no one can doubt; of its purifying, bracing, and refreshing effect on the outer man, none can be ignorant; although it may not be so readily granted, or so universally acknowledged, that these healthful results even penetrate to the inner man, imparting elasticity to the mind, and cheerfulness to the temper. For its abundant use in the last sense, none can out-advocate our plea, since we are not of those who would seek to "crawl to heaven in rags besmeared with dirt," but rather hold to the homely saying, "that cleanliness is closely allied to godliness." Indeed we confess perhaps a weakness when we affirm, that we cannot conceive a dirty personage to be either very virtuous, or full of grace; and we greatly admire the Jewish practice of frequent ablutions. Having, therefore, we trust, a due appreciation of the properties of water, we are ready to render it all homage up to a certain point; and possibly we may hereafter see cause to extend the limits of our cold-water-cure belief. Meanwhile we only seek to amuse our readers by a rapid sketch of a short residence in one of the temples consecrated to the pure and restoring element. We must, however, state, that we went thither neither as an experienced votary to the shrine, nor as a novice to be initiated into the mysteries of the varied modes of immersion or emersion; we only appeared as a visitor, who might, or might not, participate in the delights of a douche bath, a wave bath, a plunge bath, or a Rhine bath, as humour prompted. We left England for the coast of Holland on a certain day of a month not much to our liking, whose blaze of meridian splendour is usually rather oppressive; a time wherein we miss the softening graces of the gladsome spring, and seem to long for the subduing influence of mournful autumn, with its rich beauty, chastened by the sober tints of the withering and seared leaf. Our party on board the steamer was tolerably numerous, considering that we took not the route now most in fashion, that passage being preferred from whose place of debarkation the railway is ready to whirl the lovers of speed to where they will;-some travellers having a peculiar monomania, which urges them to try and see as many different towns, rivers, fields, and church spires, as is possible within an incredibly short space of time; this feat on their return home forming the chief subject of their self-laudations. We old-fashioned people, not feeling much inclined to emulate the rapidity of the lightning's flash, were resolved to take matters more leisurely, and to be indebted to steam in another shape for our projected ascent of the wellknown German river. We reached the city of canals, bridges, and tall straight trees, in time for the table d'hôte, on the day following our departure from the Thames. This of course was a mighty comfort both to our own countrymen and others,-for who ever heard of an Englishman whose sorrows could not be assuaged by the savoury smell of a good dinner? And, from the satisfaction expressed by our Dutch friends, we conclude, that neither were they impervious to the soothing influence of the many edibles which "lay smiling before us." Next morning early we parted from this city rescued from the sea, to proceed on our journey up the Rhine. There were few persons on board the steamer, and these few by no means fascinating. Among the company were some Dutch dames with children and servants en route to their summer quarters an old priest, with a three-cornered hat, an ample black surcoat reaching to his heels, a huge walking-stick, and a lengthy pipe, without which it is doubtful whether a native of Holland could exist; an exquisite, or dandy, of the Dutch school, with cigar in mouth, lemon-coloured French gloves, a slender cane, and shining boots much turned up at the toes, a specimen probably of Young Holland! Cows standing in the water to cool themselves, church spires, willow trees, and windmills, were the dominant objects, and the prime ingredients of every landscape that passed before us for many long hours. Here we might make a digression, and, in the mode of some writers, anxious that their readers should have the full benefit of all their lore, enter into a disquisition to prove the truthfulness of the paintings of the Dutch and Flemish artists who have depicted those rather sleepylooking scenes. We, however, have an antipaily to such effusions when they cross our own path, and therefore we will do in this case as we wond be done unto, and leave the productions of the Cuyps, Botses, and Wouvermans, in peaceful repose for the present. We paid a short visit to Dusseldorf, had an ice in the Hof Garten, and saw all the good folks of the place in holiday attire, as they chanced on that day to be commemorating the feast of one of their saints, and not a few wonders were to be seen in the shape of terrific paintings of Daniel in the lion's den, the three holy children in the fire, etc., as signs of shows, into the interiors of which, however, we had no time to take a glance. Music was heard in every direction, and dancing was going on merrily; mirthful recreation ever mingling with religious rejoicing in all catholic countries. And why should it not be thus? Cologne with its three kings, its treasures, and gemmed crosiers, we found to be as dirty as ever: but, worse than all, the vulgar spirit of traffic seemed to have taken unaccustomed possessier of it, of which sundry indications were given, su-b as new buildings springing up every where, and busy worldly-wise countenances meeting the stroller at each corner of the narrow streets. Alas alas! railways will be the destruction of all th grandeur of the past-of all things venerable! T find a quiet nook unvisited by these iron tyrants we must travel far away indeed. We bent our steps towards Ems, intending to remain there for some time, but found the heat in the narrow and mountain-girt valley of the Lahn so intolerable, that we were thankful to leave it after a sojourn of a few days. We could not make up our minds to be stifled in this hemmedin spot, although many delightful walks awai our footsteps by the side of the river, and on the heights; while many were the gay visitors from al quarters to be met with, and looked at. In spite of such attractions we returned to Coblenz, a then proceeded to Boppard, a place not muc frequented by mere travellers, but possessed ef various charms to those fond of antiquities, or of rambles in a lovely district, and known to marz who are believers in the cold water cure, as boasts of two such establishments, with a third progress. Boppard, though but slightly mentioned by Murray, (that constant companion of all travellers, to whatever quarter their faces may be turned. r, nevertheless, an interesting and pleasantly situated small town, lying close to the Rhine, whose waters wash its venerable walls. Many are the pres still visible of Boppard's ancient splendour, as we as of its sanctity, if we may judge from the varieds churches, convents, and monasteries, which once on a time flourished here. On the opposite back c the Rhine smiles the pretty village of Fielzin, with its tall church spire; and above are the fert.c mountain-tops of Nassau. At a short distance higher up the river stand the ruined castles of th Brothers, with what was formerly the convent |