fault; there is no one, young or old, but may find something to do if they please.

MARIANNE. No really; just then there was nothing in the world that I could think of to do, that I liked.

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MOTHER. That you liked? O, that was it. Now then I believe we shall arrive at the true cause of this fit of melancholy; you were idle: Now I perfectly understand what it was that made you say O dear, O dear," and gape and groan: yes, indeed, it is a miserable thing to be idle. Indolent people may often have a fit of mirth, or a good game of play, but their mirth is sure to subside into dulness, they can never know what it is to be cheerful.

MARIANNE. But indeed, mamma, I don't think it was being idle that made me miserable then; it was because I felt so miserable that I did not like to do any thing.

MOTHER. I think you mistake there: suppose now, when you first came in from play you had thought of winding this cotton for me; and suppose by a little effort you had overcome the inclination you felt to sit still, and had actually done it; do you think you would then have felt so dull and dismal as you did standing still for threequarters of an hour at the window?

MARIANNE. No, because then I should not have had time to see the bad weather, and to think how dull it was.

MOTHER. So I thought: it is thus that regular employment keeps off those capricious fits of melancholy to which the indolent are always liable. When useful and industrious people are unhappy they can always tell you the reason; but the idle are very often so, when, as you said, nothing at all is the matter.

MARIANNE. Well, I should very much like to be cheerful always.

MOTHER. It is a desirable thing, indeed, my dear! but then you must see that you lay a good foundation for cheerfulness: and this can be formed only by habits of industry; by good tempers; in one word, by a peaceful conscience. While you are a child, the difference between high spirits and good spirits-between mirth and cheerfulness is not so apparent but by and by, when you will no longer feel inclined to be merry, you must either be habitually cheerful or habitually dull. Cheerfulness differs essentially from mirth, in its being a lasting companion, one that does not forsake us even in old age. It endures through life; bears persons up under its calamities and crosses; and when genuine, shines brightest as we descend into the vale of years. "In laughter there is sorrow; and the end of mirth is often heaviness;" but Christian cheerfulness has no such alloy.

XVIII.

"I CAN DO WITHOUT IT."

THIS is one of the best mottos in the world, or one of the worst, according to the meaning attached to it: which will appear from the conduct of two young people who were acquainted with each other; each of whom happened to take the above sentence into frequent use. Eliza disliked and ridiculed the manner in which it was applied by Ruth and Ruth could not but disapprove of the way in which it was used by Eliza. The purpose to which Ruth appropriated the words, and the way in which she came to adopt them as her motto, shall be explained in the present paper.

Her parents were persons of superior education, but their income was limited and narrow; so that they were compelled by their circumstances, as well as inclined by their good sense, to study economy. Ruth entered into the prudent and sensible views of her parents at an early age; and her general conduct gave them so much satisfaction, that on the day she was fourteen, her mother informed her that from that time she should be intrusted with the purchase and entire management of her own dress; and that her annual allowance would be increased accordingly. The sum now allotted to her was such as her

mother considered sufficient, with prudence and management, to meet all her real wants and reasonable wishes.

When Ruth received her first quarterage, the possession of a sum of money so much larger than she had ever been mistress of before, made her feel a little giddy. However, she deposited it safely in her desk, resolving not to touch it till it was really wanted. Economy, her mother told her, did not consist in grudging to supply our wants, but in restraining the desires for superfluities. Not many days after she had entered upon this new responsibility, Ruth accompanied her father and mother to a neighboring market town, where they frequently went to make purchases, as they lived in the country. She had often been with them on former occasions; but it was with sensations entirely new that she now walked through the busy streets of this town, and passed its long rows of well-furnished shops. Heretofore she had surveyed the various tempting articles they exhibited merely as an amusing spectacle: and with no more idea of possessing any of them than one has of purchasing the curiosities of a museum. But now circumstances were altered. Here were things, and pretty things too, that she might have if she pleased. And this thought, notwithstanding Ruth's prudent temper and good resolutions, presented itself to her mind temptingly.

The first thing that struck her as a real desideratum was a steel purse, of which she saw several, glittering in a jeweller's window. There were also silver ones, but of these she did not allow herself to think. A new purse, now that she had so much more to do with money, appeared very suitable for a first purchase.

Mamma," said she, touching her mother's elbow, "would you stop one minute? I think I should like one of those purses. ." Her mother, who was aware that this day's excursion would prove rather trying to her daughter's prudence, replied, "Yes, I will stop a minute; but we will wait here, that you may have time to consider, before you go in, whether you want a new purse." "To be sure," said Ruth, after a moment's thought, "I have my old silk one; but then- ah well, I can do without it," she added; and without giving another look at the shop window, she hastened on.

"Now," said her mother, "you have saved five or six shillings by that moment's consideration."

At this time beaver hats, trimmed with satin, were much worn. There was a capital hatter's in the town: where two large bow windows, furnished with every variety of shade and shape, to suit all fancies, caught the eye of the fair passenger: : some loaded with nodding plumes, others with most becoming pink satin linings, and trim