wish our spencers had been of that color; it was just the kind I wished for, only mamma would have these.

MARY. O let us turn! The sun will be down

presently: we shall lose it if we walk to the end of the parade.

FATHER. A fine sunset indeed!

MARY. What a beautiful reflection

water! like a column of fire.

on the

MARTHA. As if the sun did not set every night in the year! It looks so strange to be standing still, like nobody else, does it not?

FATHER. Nay, we will not regard that.

MARY. How large and red! There, now it just begins to touch the sea. How beautiful! how

grand! Is it not, father?

FATHER. Truly it is: and if we were not so much accustomed to the spectacle, it would strike us far more. It is no wonder that the generality of mankind, who rarely divert their attention from the common interests, occupations, and vanities of life, to contemplate the wonders and beauties of nature, regard them with perfect indifference. They think, as Martha says, that the sun sets every night in the year, and they wonder what there can be to admire in it. But a cultivated taste counteracts, in a great degree, this effect of habit, which otherwise renders the most sublime objects unaffecting to us. It enables us to see things as they are: to the eye of taste,

nature is ever fresh and new, and those objects which it has contemplated a thousand times still interest and delight it. Thus a source of unfailing and refined pleasure is opened to us; and its chief value consists in this, that it enables us to derive enjoyment from things that are to be seen every day and every night, and that constantly surround us.

MARY. There goes the sun!-the last, last speck: now it is quite gone.

FATHER. Gone to enlighten the other hemisphere:-it is now dawning on the great Pacific, calling the inhabitants of the South Sea Islands to their daily labor, and leaving us to darkness

and repose.

MARY. And while we are sleeping so quietly in our beds, at what an amazing pace this globe of ours must be spinning about, to bring us round to face the sun again to-morrow morning!

FATHER. Yes, there is One "who never slumbers nor sleeps; the darkness and the light are both alike to Him." He it is who holds the planets in their courses, and maintains the vast machinery in perfect order and harmony. He looks down with pure benevolence upon our sleeping and waking world, and "causes His sun to shine on the just and on the unjust," upon Pagan and Christian lands. "His tender mercies are over all his works."

MARTHA. Papa, shall we take another turn?

FATHER. With all my heart: but tell me, my dear girl, is there not something more interesting in the scene we have beheld, than in this moving medley of ribbons and feathers?

MARTHA. O certainly, papa, more interesting; but surely it is pleasant and cheerful-amusing, at least, to look about one a little, like other people.

FATHER. All very well in its way, my dear; but a little of it, I confess, satisfies me. Besides, I should be very sorry to be so dependent upon circumstances for my amusement, as to be pleased only with these gay scenes.

MARTHA. How so, papa? There is always something gay to be seen, if one chooses.

FATHER. Not always: suppose now, I were to send you to your uncle's farm house; where there is nothing to behold but fields and trees, and green lanes by day; and nothing but the stars overhead by night.

MARTHA. I believe, indeed, I should very soon be tired of it.

FATHER. Then you see, your happiness depends upon circumstances; and you are not so independent as one who could be pleased and happy anywhere.

MARTHA. O, but I would never go to a place where I could not be happy.

FATHER. Now you talk like a silly child.

We

are not always-we are scarcely ever, entirely at

our own disposal, and it may happen that you will have to spend, not a few weeks only, but years; your whole life, perhaps, in such a situ

ation.

MARTHA. O shocking! I hope not I 'm sure.

FATHER. Nay, that is an idle wish. Hope rather for a mind capable of being satisfied with those natural, simple pleasures, which Providence everywhere places within our reach, and then you are more independent than a queen. rural poet well sings,

"I would not for a world of gold,

That Nature's lovely face should tire."

Our

For truly an eye to see and a heart to feel its beauties, are of more importance to happiness, than a great estate.

MARTHA. The country is very beautiful, certainly, in some parts; and I should like of all things to live in a fine park, with lawns and trees, and deer, and all that kind of things.

FATHER. I dare say you would. But suppose, instead of being mistress of this fine park, you were only a tenant's daughter, living in a humble dwelling on its outskirts.

MARTHA. I should not like that at all.

FATHER. NO?-Why you could walk in the park, and look at the lawns, and the trees, and the deer, as well as the lady herself.

MARTHA. Yes; just look at them.

FATHER. Well, the mistress herself could do no more. And let us suppose, (a very possible case,) that this lady has no true taste for the scenes which surround her; that she values them chiefly as articles of splendor and show; and prefers a saloon crowded with company, to a walk in her peaceful lawns and groves; while the tenant's daughter is gifted with taste and sentiment to enjoy these natural beauties; then I maintain, that her humble neighbor is the happier, the more independent, the more truly elevated of the two. MARTHA. La, papa!

FATHER. Yes; and I believe it not unfrequently happens, that the great unintentionally indeed, thus provide pleasures for others, of which they themselves never knew the true enjoyment. So true is it, that "man's life consists not in the abundance of the things which he possesses," but in what he is in himself. They who depend on artificial pleasures for their happiness, are miserable if "riches take wings and fly away," so as to prevent them the means of gratification. But the fields, the trees, the blue sky, the starry heavens, are always the same, and of these pleasures none of the vicissitudes of life can deprive us.

By this time the father and his daughters had reached the lonely beach: the moon was just rising over the eastern cliffs: the planet Venus, that beautiful evening star, which made such a brilliant