pleases; they command, like a good man out of office, not by authority, but by virtue. Her features are not perfectly regular that sort of exactness is more to be praised than to be loved; for it is never animated. Her stature is not tall. She is not made to be the admi ration of every body, but the happiness of one. She has all the firmness that does not exclude delicacy: she has all the softness that does not imply weakness. There is often more of the coquette shown in an affected plainness than in a tawdry finery. She is always clean without preciseness or affectation. Her gravity is a gentle thoughtfulness, that softens the features without discomposing them she is usually grave. Her smiles are inexpressible. Her voice is a low, soft music, not formed to rule in public assemblies, but to charm those who can distinguish a company from a crowd. It has this advantage — you must come close to her to hear it. To describe her body describes her mind; one is the transcript of the other. Her understanding is not shown in the variety of matters it exerts itself on, but in the goodness of the choice she makes. She does not display it so much in saying or doing striking things, as in avoiding such as she ought not to say or do. She discovers the right and wrong of things not by reasoning, but sagacity. Most women, and many good ones, have a closeness and something selfish in their dispositions : she has a true generosity of temper: the most extravagant cannot be more unbounded in their liberality; the most covetous not more cautious in the distribution. No person of so few years can know the world better; no person was ever less corrupted by that knowledge. Her politeness seems to flow rather from a natural disposition to oblige than from any rules on that subject, and therefore never fails to strike those who understand good breeding and those who do not. She does not run with a girlish eagerness into new friendships, which, as they have no foundation in reason, serve only to multiply and imbitter disputes. It is long before she chooses, but then it is fixed forever; and the first hours of romantic friendships are not warmer than hers after the lapse of years. As she never disgraces her good-nature by severe reflections on any body, so she never degrades her judgment by immoderate or ill-placed praises; for every thing violent is contrary to her gentleness of disposition and the evenness of her virtue. She has a steady and firm mind, which takes no more from the female character than the solidity of marble does from its polish and lustre. She has such virtues as make us value the truly great of our own sex; she has all the winning graces, that make us love even the faults we see in the weak and beautiful of hers. O, SCENES surpassing fable, and yet true- His soul refreshed with foretaste of the joy? And clothe all climes with beauty; the reproach The garden fears no blight; and needs no fence, The lion, and the libbard, and the bear, Of the same grove, and drink one common stream. Lurks in the serpent now: the mother sees, The breath of heaven has chased it. In the heart But all is harmony and love. Disease LESSON CLIX. The Idea of a State. SIR W. JONES. WHAT Constitutes a state? Not high-raised battlement or labored mound, Thick wall, or moated gate; Not cities proud, with spires and turrets crowned; Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride; Where low-born baseness wafts perfume to pride: With powers as far above dull brutes endued, As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude: But know their rights, and, knowing, dare maintain; Prevent the long-aimed blow, And crush the tyrant, while they rend the chain; And sovereign Law, that state's collected will, Sits empress, crowning good, repressing ill. The fiend Dissension like a vapor sinks; Ilides his faint rays, and at her bidding shrinks. One with all a father's truth, One on earth in silence wrought, So whene'er I turn my eye Saddening thoughts of friends come o'er me, But what binds us friend to friend, Take, O boatman, thrice thy fee,— For, invisible to thee, Spirits twain have crossed with me. LESSON CLXI. Rosamund Gray. LAMB. Ir was noontide. The sun was very hot. An old gentlewoman sat spinning in a little arbor at the door of her cottage. She was blind; and her granddaughter was reading the Bible to her. The old lady had just left her work, to attend to the story of Ruth. "Orpah kissed her mother-in-law; but Ruth clave unto her." It was a passage she could not let pass without a |