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this conclusion, let us go and learn of Betsey Bond how to make ourselves persons of consequence.

XVII.

MIRTH AND CHEERFULNESS.

LITTLE Marianne returned from school one afternoon, in high spirits: one of her favorite companions accompanied her; and hastening into the garden, they had a fine game of play on the grassplot. When they were both in such a heat and so much tired that they knew not how to keep it up any longer, they left off, by mutual consent. Her friend then left her, while Marianne went into the parlor, threw herself into a chair, took off her hat and fanned herself with it. Now and then she smiled, and once laughed out, at the recollection of some droll occurrences in their play; after sitting thus nearly half an hour, she began to grow sleepy, and at length actually nodded. She would now probably have had a long nap, if it had not been that with one nod her head dropped so far as to wake her thoroughly: she then rose up and walked languidly to the window. It was very fine when Marianne left the garden, but it had suddenly clouded over, and by this time had begun to rain.

"What a dismal evening!" exclaimed she, in a drowsy voice, "how dull it is!" then placing both her elbows on the window, and leaning her head on her hands, she stood for another half hour in that position; watching the rain, as it splashed on the flag stones in the street, or tracing the drops that slowly chased each other down the long panes of glass. At length she heaved a deep sigh, and, after a short interval, another, which terminated in a dismal yawn, and “O dear! O dear!"

My dear Marianne, what is the matter with you?" said her mamma.

MARIANNE. Nothing mamma, nothing partic

ular.

MOTHER. Nothing particular, I often find, means something particular.

MARIANNE. No, but I assure you, mamma, it was nothing at all.

MOTHER. Then pray, my love, do not gape and groan, and say "O dear," for nothing at all.

Here followed a long silence, which was at length broken by another deep sigh.

MOTHER. What is the matter, now, Marianne? MARIANNE. Nothing particular, mamma. MOTHER. Nay, do not give me that foolish answer again: come now, I must know what makes you so uncomfortable this afternoon.

MARIANNE. Nothing, mamma, only that it is so dull and dismal, and I'm tired, and I've got no

thing to play with, and nothing to do, and I'm so dull!

MOTHER. Nothing to play with, and nothing to do! that is sad indeed: are you sure, my dear, that you have nothing to do?

MARIANNE. Nothing particular, that I know of. MOTHER. Then I am sure it will be a kindness to find you a job: see here is some cotton that I want to have wound; and as I have a great deal to do, I think it will be a mutual accommodation. Go and fetch the reel, this will be a nice job for you.

Marianne slowly and reluctantly moved her elbows from their station, though they ached with leaning on them so long; and as she went to fetch the reel she thought she had rather have stood there still, looking at the muddy street, than do this job for her mamma. However, when she had found it, and had placed the cotton upon it, and when she began to wind the cotton she found herself rather agreeably disappointed. There seemed that desirable medium between work and play in this employment, that exactly suited a person who was rather lazy, and yet tired of doing nothing. The reel moved round nimbly; candles came in; Marianne's spirits revived, the invariable consequence of which was, that she began to talk.

"Ah! that is right," said she, "I am glad the candles are come; now one can see what one is

about. I wonder how large this ball of cotton will be when it's all wound; pretty large I fancy. No, no, Mrs. Puss, this is not for you, I can promise you; s cat! s cat! One, two, three, four, five, six;-I do think this reel must go round twenty times in a minute. There now, here 's a knot; how tiresome! that 's the worst of winding cotton; so you won't come, won't you? then you must break, that's all. There, now we shall go on again. One, two, three, four: O, I shall have done this job in a minute."

MOTHER. So, you have found your tongue again, Marianne.

MARIANNE. O yes mamma, no fear of that.

MOTHER. Now then, perhaps you can tell me what was the matter just now when you were groaning so dismally.

MARIANNE. O really, mamma, there was nothing the matter; only one is miserable sometimes, you know; I often am: but then I soon grow cheerful again; that is one comfort.

MOTHER. Stay; I think you have used the wrong word; you mean that you soon get merry again.

MARIANNE. Well it 's all the same.

MOTHER. All the same! O no, very different indeed. The most wicked and miserable persons in the world may sometimes be merry; but it is impossible they should ever be cheerful cheerfulness you know implies an easy, contented,

serene mind. Mirth is only excited by some temporary amusement; and this may happen when the heart is aching, and the conscience stinging all the time. A cheerful mind and a guilty conscience can never exist together. Now, although there is no objection to a little girl like you, being merry now and then, yet, it is very requisite that you should not only learn to distinguish between words of such different meanings, but that now, while you are young, you should cultivate those habits and tempers with which cheerfulness will grow; that you may feel

the difference as well as know it. If this had been done already, Marianne, you would have escaped that fit of melancholy this afternoon, and many a one before it.

MARIANNE. As to that, I fancy every body is in a mopish mood now and then, when they are dull, and when it rains.

MOTHER. Really, Marianne, we should be badly off in this climate, if we must always be dull when it rains. To be sure, if every body was obliged to stand still at their windows, and watch the drops as they fall, it would be no wonder if it

were so.

MARIANNE. Well mamma, it was only because just then I had nothing else to do.

MOTHER. That, I grant you, is a reason-the best reason, Marianne, that you have yet given me for being miserable. But this was your own

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