constituted a full moiety of his earthly possessions. But he had a good profession, good abilities, and a stout heart, and was just preparing to transfer his office to the city, with every prospect of a lucrative business.

Tidings of the new state of affairs were not slow in reaching Midgeville, and the consequent commotion and excitement in that little community were altogether unparalleled. Miss Smith was

for once too utterly discomfited and mortified to admit of any thing like an effective rally. Some bitter things she thought and said, but she felt that it was to no purpose. It was in vain to anathematize Elsie, whom her objurgations would seldom or never reach; but her own family-circle were fully and frequently informed of her opinion that the former was the artfulest and brazenest-facedest little minx in all Midgeville.'

To that delightful village Elsie Glum, as such, never returned. The mystic ceremony by which she forever discarded her unfitting patronymic, took place soon afterward, at the residence of her friend in the city. It was not until subsequent to this event that Mr. Smith found an opportunity to seek an explanation of Hilton's mysterious conduct. This the latter did not hesitate to give, accompanied by no slight reproof for the entirely unwarranted construction put upon his language. The aggrieved father threatened an action at law, but upon a sober second thought,' relinquished so unpromising a project. He had succeeded once in his life in a law-suit, and felt that as a reasonable man he ought to be contented, and not expect impossibilities. He returned home and discoursed long and oracularly upon the subject, and concluded with a little sage advice, which, aided by an extremely wise look, and the usual approving gestures of his chin, did not fail of its effect. It was useless, he said, to speculate upon the matter now. Possibly there had been some misunderstanding. At any rate,' he said, ' whatever may have been the nature of Mr. Hilton's sentiments at some former period, it was quite evident that he did not now desire to marry Glorianna. Common-sense would teach that.'

TONIAGARA.

EARTH trembleth at thy passing, mighty Flood!
And from the secret chambers of the deep
The voices of thy many waters keep,
In thunder-tones and wild majestic mood,
One everlasting anthem, praising God!

Thy fearful pathway leads thee o'er a steep,
Which thou thyself alone dost dare to leap!

I feel to worship here; methinks I'll seat
Me on the beetling cliffs above the brink

Of thy abyss; there ruminate and think:
How restless is thy surge beneath my feet,
Forever rolling, rushing on to meet

Old Ocean's boundless depths, for aye to sink
Into oblivion, whence we mortals shrink!

WITH What pleasure I remember my grandmother, long since dead-
Dead before my thanks had paid her for the cheerful words she said!

Many were the songs she sung me, many pleasant tales she told,
Full of love and wildest romance, in those fairy days of old.

Visions, to my childish fancy bright as any poet's dreams,

Floated round me while I listened to those strange and startling themes.

Yet they were not strange unto me; for to me the world was new,
And whatever was the wildest, that my fancy deemed most true.

Naught was wondrous; all was real; breaking on me like the light
Of a slow but certain morning, following the darkest night.

Seated on the old green sofa, or within her easy chair,

In the evening when the fire-light tinged us with its ruddy glare:

With her knitting-work and basket filled with treasures rare and strange,
Balls of yarn, pins, thread, wax, thimbles, and a trifle of small change.

She would speak of fairies, witches, goblins of all shapes and size,
Spectre-ships and headless horses, men with huge and staring eyes:

Gleaning from the page of history, many things she had to tell
Of the strong true-hearted workers who had served their country well.
All the trials our forefathers suffered in the days of yore,
With the wintry sea behind them and the savage tribes before:

And the contest for true freedom, holding up its beacon-light,
Flashing on the eyes of tyrants through the darkness of the night.

Then, relenting, she would picture all the charms of rural ease,
Cottages with smiling faces, birds, brooks, flowers and waving trees.
How we travelled over countries!-none too far for us to view
In those happy winter evenings, when the world to me was new.

Then on Sunday she would teach me wisdom from the best of Books,
All the soul of old religious fervor beaming in her looks.

Every thing was bright and joyous; sorrow was not dreamed of then;
No cold slights, nor rude encounters with the warring hosts of men.

Dear grandmother, take my blessing!—it is but a simple thing,
Feebly breathed, and faintly blending with the strains the angels sing.

I have left the paths you taught me; and e'en now your angel eyes
May be looking down upon me, full of meek but sad surprise.

How I've wandered none can fancy, save my own sad heart to-night,
As it throbs so wildly, vainly calling up that old delight:

Yet I fain would bless you for the precious counsels you have given, Teaching me the way of life, and pointing out the road to Heaven. Boston, April 6, 1847.

The Egyptian Letters.

NUMBER 81X.

LETTER EIGHTEENTH.

FROM ABU ALLAH OMAR, TO SEYD AKHMAD BL HAJI. CHIEF SECRETARY OF THE CKADEE AT CAIRO.

MANY well-meaning persons imagine that the only way to instruct is to give a long serious lecture. Such is my friend in the white cravat; who, when once he broaches a favorite theme, never tires in expatiating upon it, not doubting that the patience of his listener will keep pace with his own garrulity. Yet the intention of my friend is so pure, and his observations contain so much of the wisdom I desire to obtain, that I quietly submit to his prosing, knowing that I can lighten myself of part of the burden by bestowing a share of it upon you. So you see, my dear Ahhmad, what you gain by keeping company with a traveller, who, not content with giving you the thoughts that spring from his own brain, must needs introduce you to another, who, with less mercy, showers upon you all at once the result of his long experience. My friend took the first occasion to renew the subject of How to be Öld, and thus continued:

'It is not to be supposed that the course of old age will always flow unruffled. It has its trials, and those that are serious, as well as when, in younger days, the active duties of life engrossed the thoughts; and the man advanced in years has to meet them under great disadvantage. Buoyant youth and mature age, together with the excitement caused by frequent change of scene, give little time for cares to make deep impression; and should they come for a moment, youth has strength to bear them. But the old are fixed to one spot, cannot easily vary their modes of life, and have not strength, either mental or physical, always at command to bear them up against small ills, which are often more annoying than the deeper wounds of a great calamity. Other troubles, of greater magnitude, likewise exist to disturb an old man's repose, and they are of a nature to require strong efforts to remove, for they are deeply seated in the human breast. It does require an effort to subdue that lurking spirit of ambition which still prompts us to wish to rise above our present standing, to suppress a sigh for objects once desired and now unattainable, prevent us deploring the loss of opportunities where we might have improved our condition, and above all, to behold with composure the advancement of competitors who are possessed of endowments inferior to our own. All these cause repinings which must be met early and sternly rebuked. Sound reason will check these encroachments on our repose, and a wellregulated imagination will direct the thoughts to subjects calculated

to make us be resigned to our lot. And it must be remembered that old age has no claim to possess unadulterated happiness. My only aim is to show that we need not be more unhappy, being old, than when years had not pressed upon us. Each state has its means of bearing the trials and pains imposed upon it, if these means are properly brought into action, and each state may create sources of enjoyment adapted to its wants. I have indicated some, of a number, which will produce the desired effect. If life was a smooth, unruffled stream, no skill would be requisite to navigate our bark, for no shoals or quicksands would impede our progress. There are calm spots over which we do glide with ease, and near them are turbulent waters which put to trial all our science to pass through with security. My endeavor has been to show that we have within us all the knowledge necessary to make the voyage safe and agreeable.

After all that has been said, the physical constitution has a material influence over our mental faculties, and indirectly affects our plans for the better support of the burdens of old age. One of a nervous temperament will be apt to be querulous, irritable and easily deranged by slight causes; one of a sanguine temper will view things in too bright colors, and hence be subjected to frequent disappointments. Bodily health in early life, when the constitution is forming, will have a powerful influence on the temper and disposition; and if a youthful invalid should not be so fortunate as to be guided by judicious persons who will carefully apportion instruction to his weakness, he will acquire prejudices and contract erroneous views of men and things; a never-failing source of unhappiness in all stages of life. Discontented in youth, in old age wretched. If the mind has not been enfeebled by indulgence while the body pined, there is hope that the subject may have kept good temper and removed his false impressions as he advanced.

'If the general remarks I have made be just, it is reasonable to believe the passions will fall under the influence of a sound mind and a well-regulated imagination. Two such counsellors cannot fail of exercising a wholesome control, and of possessing the moral power to direct them to the ends for which they were implanted; not suppressed, but reduced to obedience; the flame extinguished, but the warmth retained. Such would be the effect produced by a well balanced mind, and old age would be spared the violent emotions that corrode the heart. As a natural consequence of this discipline, the moral sentiments would be in a sound condition, the tranquil mind would delight in the exercise of benevolent affections, not merely by impulses, but by steady endeavors, under the firm conviction that the happiness of others and of ourselves is best promoted by a conscientious discharge of the duties we owe to our fellow-men.

'I have attempted to show the manner in which the imagination may occupy itself, and have mentioned subjects it might innocently and agreeably dwell upon. But I do not wish to be understood as recommending that one should permit the mind to wander into

ideal paths merely to avoid the labor of serious thought. We should not get the habit of relieving the mind in this way. The exercise of the imagination should be considered rather as a relaxation than as a steady pursuit. As it makes part of our being, we ought not, if we could, to throw it off from us, but rather use it as an occasional relief from the fatigue of too steady thinking. Yet as we cannot always divert the mind from a given object by the mere force of reason, İ propose another method of producing the effect, and at the same time affording another means of rendering old people contented I mean the occupation or employment of time not taken up by one's regular profession or calling. And here the necessity of early culture is apparent. They who are taken when very young from their schools, and put immediately to business, have no chance of acquiring a taste for any thing but that which is set before them. It is a misfortune which many well disposed persons labor under, that of never being taught how to employ the hours which their regular pursuits spare to them, for no one is so constantly occupied as to have no leisure for mental or physical relaxation, if he choose to take either. It is this which prevents people knowing what to do with themselves when the objects of business are attained, or ill health forces them to retire from harassing cares. Many do not retire, for fear of ennui, and others, when they have left the active pursuits in which they have passed their lives without reproach, fall into bad. habits for want of mental resources.

There is another evil, less reprehensible it is true, which besets many men, and which injures their minds and bodies by constant application, and this is, the habit of carrying to their firesides too large a portion of their business thoughts.

It is not to be expected that the moment a man turns his back from his usual occupations, he can all at once divert his thoughts at will into a given channel; but he can, when he enters his dwelling, have in readiness some pursuit or study that shall put his mind into another train. He will afterward find that he comes back to his accustomed vocation with new energy and often with fresh ideas on business subjects which before were confused. He who expects to unravel an intricate subject by intense and continued thinking, rarely succeeds, and is sure to injure, for the moment, his mental faculty; but if he will give a temporary relief to his mind by changing its direction, his powers of perception will recover their vigor, and he will be surprised at having the object of his search rise up before him when he least expects it. From my own experience much benefit is derived from having one leading fixed study to occupy one's-self upon, when not engrossed by business. Something that will abstract and engage the mind, and that can be resorted to when light reading or amusements have accomplished all that was expected from them. The two, judiciously combined, prevent the hours hanging heavily; one may afford just labor enough to excite the powers of thought, the other an agreeable relaxation when the mind is fatigued. The alternation produces the wholesome effect of keeping the mind in

better health.