He was scarce gone, when Mr. Thornhill's butler came, to congratulate us upon our good fortune; saying, that he overheard his young master mention our names, with great commendation.

Good fortune seemed resolved not to come alone. Another footman from the same family followed, with a card for my daughters, importing, that the two ladies had received such pleasing accounts from Mr. Thornhill, of us all, that, after a few inquiries, they hoped to be perfectly satisfied. "Ay," cried my wife; "I now see it is no easy matter to get into the families of the great; but when one once gets in, then, as Moses says, one may go to sleep." To this piece of humour (for she intended it for wit), my daughters assented with a loud laugh of pleasure. In short, such was her satisfaction at this message, that she actually put her hand in her pocket, and gave the messenger sevenpence-halfpenny.

This was to be our visiting day. The next that came was Mr. Burchell, who had been at the fair. He brought my little ones, a pennyworth of gingerbread each, which my wife undertook to keep for them, and give them, by letters at a time; he brought my daughters also, a couple of boxes, in which they might keep wafers, snuff, patches, or even money, when they got it. My wife, was usually fond of a weasel-skin purse, as being the most lucky; but this, by the bye. We had still a regard for Mr. Burchell, though his late rude behaviour, was in some measure displeasing; nor could we avoid, communicating our happiness to him,

and asking his advice: although we seldom followed advice, we were ready enough to ask it.

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When he read the note from the two ladies, he shook his head; and observed that an affair of this sort, demanded the utmost circumspection. This air of diffidence, highly displeased my wife. "I never doubted, sir," cried she, "your readiness to be against my daughters and me. You have more circumspection than is wanted. However, I fancy, when we come to ask advice, we shall apply to persons, who seem to have made use of it themselves."- "Whatever my own conduct may have been, madam," replied he, "is not the present question; though, as I have made no use of advice myself, I should in conscience, give it to those that will."

As I was apprehensive, this answer might draw on a repartee, making up by abuse, what it wanted in wit, I changed the subject, by seeming to wonder, what could keep our son so long at the fair, as it was now almost nightfall. "Never mind our son," cried my wife; " depend upon it, he knows what he is about. I'll warrant, we'll never see him sell his hen on a rainy day. I have seen him buy such bargains, as would amaze one. tell you a good story about that, that will make you split your sides with laughing. But, as I live, yonder comes Moses, without a horse, and the box at his back!"

I'll

As she spoke, Moses came slowly, on foot, and bending under the deal box, which he had strapped round his shoulders, like a pedlar. "Welcome,

welcome, Moses! Well, my boy, what have you brought us from the fair?"—"I have brought you myself," cried Moses, with a sly look, and resting the box on the dresser. Ay, Moses," cried my wife; "that we know; but where is the horse?" "I have sold him," cried Moses, "for three pounds, five shillings and two pence."-" Well done, my good boy!" returned she; "I knew you would touch them off. Between ourselves, three pounds, five shillings and two pence, is no bad day's work. Come, let us have it then."-"I have brought back no money," cried Moses, again; "I have laid it all out in a bargain, and here it is;" pulling out a bundle from his breast; "here they are; a gross of green spectacles, with silver rims, and shagreen cases."

"A gross of green spectacles!" repeated my wife, in a faint voice; "and you have parted with the colt, and brought us back nothing, but a gross of green, paltry spectacles!"

"Dear mother," cried the boy, "why won't you listen to reason? I had them a dead bargain, or I should not have bought them. The silver rims alone, will sell for double the money."

"A fig for the silver rims!" cried my wife, in a passion; "I dare swear they won't sell for above half the money, at the rate of broken silver, five shillings the ounce!"

"You need be under no uneasiness," cried I, "about selling the rims, for they are not worth sixpence; for I perceive they are only copper, varnished over."

"What!" cried my wife, "not silver! the rims

not silver!""No," cried I, "no more silver than your saucepan!"

"And so," returned she, "we have parted with the colt, and have only got a gross of green spectacles, with copper rims, and shagreen cases! A murrain take such trumpery! The blockhead has been imposed upon, and should have known his company better!"

"There, my dear," cried I, "you are wrong; he should not have known them at all!"

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Marry, hang the idiot," returned she, "to bring me such stuff! If I had them, I would throw them in the fire."

"There again you are wrong, my dear,” cried I; "for though they be copper, yet copper spectacles are better than none at all!"

By this time the unfortunate Moses was undeceived. He now saw, that he had indeed been imposed upon by a prowling sharper, who, observing his figure, had marked him for an easy prey. I therefore asked him, the circumstances of his deception. He sold the horse it seems, and walked the fair in search of another. A reverend-looking man brought him to a tent, under pretence of having one to sell. "Here," continued Moses, "we met another man, very well-dressed, who desired to borrow twenty pounds upon these; saying, that he wanted money, and would dispose of them, for a third of their value. The first gentleman, who pretended to be my friend, whispered me to buy them, and cautioned me, not to let so good an offer pass. I sent for Mr. Flamborough, our neighbour;

and they talked him up as finely as they did me; and so at last we were persuaded to buy the two gross between us.”

A PSALM OF LIFE.-LONGFELLOW.

WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN SAID TO THE PSALMIST.

[Mr. Longfellow, a celebrated American poet of the present day, is well known to English readers by his beautiful poem of "Evangeline;" and more recently by "Hiawatha,” and the courtship of "Miles Standish;" his "Voices of the Night," however, first introduced him to the English public, and it is doubtful if his subsequent efforts surpass them.]

TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
"Life is but an empty dream!"

For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real! life is earnest !

And the grave is not its goal;
“Dust thou art, to dust returnest,"
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us further than to day.

Art is long, and time is fleeting;

And our hearts, though stout and brave,

Still, like muffled drums, are beating