Page images
PDF
EPUB

the displeasing side, will sour his disposition, and consequently impair his happiness; while he who beholds it on the bright side, insensibly meliorates his temper, and, by this means, improves his own happiness, and the happiness of all about him.

Jane and Mary are two friends. They are alike in birth, fortune, education, and accomplishments. They were originally alike in temper too; but, by different management are grown the reverse of each other. Jane has accustomed herself to look only on the dark side of every object. If a new literary work makes its appearance, with a thousand beauties and but one or two blemishes, she slightly skims over the passages that should give her pleasure, and dwells upon those only that fill her with dislike. you shew her an excellent portrait, she looks at some part of the drapery that has been neglected, or a hand or finger which has been left unfinished.

If

Her garden is a very beautiful one, and kept with great neatness and elegance; but if you take a walk with her into it, she talks to you of nothing but blights and storms, of snails and caterpillars, and how impossible it is to keep it from the litter of falling leaves. If you sit down in one of her arbours, to enjoy a delightful prospect, she observes to you, that there is too much wood, or too little water; that the day is too sunny, or too gloomy; that it is sultry, or windy; and finishes with a long harangue upon the wretchedness of our climate. When you return with her to the company in the hopes of a little cheerful conversation, she casts a gloom over all, by giving you the history of her own bad health, or of some melancholy accident that has befallen one of her children. Thus she insensibly sinks her own spirits, and the spirits of all around her; and at last discovers, she knows not why, that her friends are grave.

Mary is the reverse of all this. By habituating herself to look on the bright side of objects, she preserves a perpetual cheerfulness in herself, which by a kind of happy contagion, she communicates to all about her. If any misfortune has befallen her, she considers that it might have been worse, and is thankful to Providence for an escape. She rejoices in solitude, as it gives her an opportunity of knowing herself; and in society, because she communicates the happiness she enjoys. She opposes every

man's virtues to his failings, and can find out something to cherish and applaud in the very worst of her acquaintance. She opens every book with a desire to be entertained or instructed, and therefore seldom misses what she looks for.

Walk with her though it be but on a heath or a common, and she will discover numberless beauties, unobserved before, in the hills, the dales, the brooms, brakes, and variegated flowers of weeds and poppies. She enjoys every change of weather, and of season, as bringing with it some advantages of health or convenience. In conversation you never hear her repeating her own grievances, or those of her neighbours; or, what is worst of all, their faults and imperfections. If any thing of the latter kind is mentioned in her hearing, she has the address to turn it into entertainment, by changing the most odious railing into a pleasant raillery. Thus Mary, like the bee, gathers honey from every weed; while Jane, like the spider, sucks poison from the fairest flowers. The consequence is, that of two tempers, once very nearly allied, the one is for ever sour and dissatisfied, the other always pleased and cheerful: the one spreads a universal gloom; the other a continual sunshine.-Moore.

SIMPLE NATURE.

I HATE the face, however fair,
That carries an affected air:

The lisping tone, the shape constrained,
The studied look, the passion feigned,
Are fopperies, which only tend
To injure what they strive to mend.

With what superior grace enchants
The face which nature's pencil paints!
Where eyes unexercised in art,
Glow with the meaning of the heart!
Where freedom and good humor sit,
And easy gaiety and wit!

Though perfect beauty be not there,
The master lines, the finished air,
We catch from every look delight,
And grow enamored at the sight:
For beauty though we all approve,
Excites our pity more than love.-Gay.

ADVICE IN CASE OF FIRE.

WHEN a female discovers her dress to be on fire, she runs screaming about the room, and, if no one is there to assist her, she opens the room door, and rushes to the head of the stairs for assistance. By this action of the lighted clothes, and of the air, the greatest rapidity and fierceness are given to the fire, and the face, neck, and arms, become almost instantly enveloped in flames. Now, when a female finds her clothes on fire, she ought instantly to drop on the floor at full length; and if she can do so on a hearthrug or loose carpet, and wrap it round her, the fire will be immediately extinguished. If there be not these things at hand, she should turn over till the part on fire be undermost, and then press her clothes to the floor with her hands. If her clothes are on fire all round, she must turn over and over again. The portion of dress underneath her person, by pressure, will be extinguished, and the portion above it will burn feebly and harmlessly, compared to what it does when the sufferer is running about. If there be any one in the room, drop down as before; the assistant must then throw a carpet, rug, woollen shawl, or cloak, or man's coat, or the like, over her, and press it closely, until the flame be extinguished.

BAD MANAGEMENT.

"THERE are the beds to be made-and the breakfast things to be washed, and the pudding and the potatoes to be boiled for dinner." A bad manager receives those directions from her mistress, and to work she goes, with bustle enough, perhaps, as if she would accomplish it all long before dinner time. She makes the beds, and comes down to wash the breakfast things-"Oh dear, oh dear, was ever any thing so provoking-not a drop of water in the kettle, and the fire just out." Then the sticks and the bellows go to work, (by the way, I never knew any but a bad manager who found it necessary often to use the bellows) at length the water boils, and the clock strikes"why, what o'clock is that ?-my pudding ought to be in, and it is not made, nor any water set on for it; well, I

must use this, and do the tea-things afterwards." The pudding is made, and put in, half an hour later than it should be-then to work again, to heat water for the teathings; it boils-but she must now put the potatoes on, or they will not be half done by dinner time. The potatoes are put on, and the water poured out; but now the family are assembled for dinner, and the cloth must be laid; and the potatoes are all but raw, and the pudding but half boiled-and the water cold, and the tea-things not washed up-and the mistress displeased, and the house thrown into confusion. It never seems to occur to a bad manager, that there are some things, which if once set agoing, go on by themselves. If she had but supplied the fire with coals, it would have drawn up-and set on the kettle, the water would have boiled for the tea-things, while she made the beds; and the fire would have been at liberty for the pudding water to be set on, and all the mischief would have been prevented.-Cottage Comforts.

HOW OLD ART THOU?

COUNT not the days that have idly flown,
The years that were vainly spent ;

Nor speak of the hours thou must blush to own
When thy spirit stands before the throne
To account for the talents lent.

But number the hours redeem'd from sin,
The moments employ'd for heaven;

Oh few and evil thy days have been,
Thy life, a toilsome but worthless scene,
For a nobler purpose given.

Will the shade go back on thy dial-plate?
Will thy sun stand still on his way?
Both hasten on; and thy spirit's fate
Rests on the point of life's little date:
Then live while 'tis called to-day.

Life's waning hours, like the sybil's page,
As they lessen, in value rise:

Oh rouse thee and live! nor deem man's age
Stands in the length of his pilgrimage,

But in days that are truly wise.-Anon.

SUPERSTITION.

Ir is astonishing to observe what an inclination prevails amongst some persons when they meet with any extraordinary appearance in the natural world, the real cause of which they cannot understand, to ascribe its existence to a supernatural influence; to Satan, for instance, or to those fancied beings called fairies. Any one who endeavours to remove these superstitious opinions, by explaining the real causes of such things, does good service to those who make such mistakes.

Satan's Footsteps.-There is a singular appearance often observed in spring, which has excited many a superstitious terror in the minds of simple country people, and which, in reality, is very striking. It is the print of footsteps across the grass of the fields, as though they had been footsteps of fire. The grass is burned black in the footprints, presenting a startling contrast with the vivid green of that around. Ignorant people have, consequently, concluded these to be the traces of the nocturnal perambulations of Satan, whereas they are those of some one of themselves, who had crossed the fields while the night frost was on the grass, which at this season is very tender, and is as effectually destroyed by the pressure of a foot in its frosty brittleness, as by fire, and with much the same appearance.

Fairy Rings. Those singular appearances in the grass, called Fairy Rings, are never more conspicuous than during the autumn months. Even when all other grass is brown, they exhibit a well-defined and bright green circle. The production of these remarkable circles, and the property which they possess, of every year becoming larger, have, of late years, been the subject of various theories. They have been attributed to lightning; they have been attributed to fungi, (that is, mushroom, toadstools, and such things,) which every year grow upon the outer margin of the circle, and then perishing, cause, by the remains, a fresh circle of vivid green to appear, somewhat wider, of course, than the former one. They have also been attributed to insects. The least plausible theory is that of lightning; the most plausible, that of fungi. Insects are a consequence of the fungi, rather than a cause

« PreviousContinue »