cry after their unfortunate victim, my heart used to be so sad that I could attend to neither book nor lesson. How earnestly did I wish that I might meet "Squire Hoo" in my walks, and speak to him as Harry Sandford did to "Squire Chase." I used to pray to God to teach the poor hare to escape; or, sometimes, if I thought that unlikely, I prayed that, in leaping over a certain fence, the Squire might fall into a rushy quagmire, where I well knew he could not be hurt, and where he might have time to think of better things. Often, again, my blood boiled with indignation at the baseness of men worrying a poor innocent hare or fox. How different, I thought, are such cowards from Leonidas or Mucius Scævola. It is curious to me now to observe how partly the love of God, and partly an inordinate pride in opposition to it, seemed alternately to rule in my mind. The same was true in other instances.

There are two things for which I am more especially indebted to my dear mother, amongst the innumerable benefits I received from her. One is, that she always took the season of our Sunday talkings, in which I poured out my mind to her as in the presence of God, or as a Catholic to his confessor, to tell me of my faults; and that she represented her doing so as a mark of her especial love and confidence, and of her full assurance that it was my first wish to do well and improve. She often told me that none could be without faults, but that she wished her child to be like Elzevir, who, as fast as he printed a sheet, put it up at his window, offering a reward to any one who could find one mistake. Elzevir was much beloved, and, possessing many real friends, they diligently looked out for

every error, and, owing to their kindness in doing this, his editions, she told me, are the most perfect in the world. Sometimes, too, she told me of Praxiteles, who, having produced a most magnificent statue of Minerva, exhibited it in like manner, calling on everybody to discover any imperfection. By this means Praxiteles attained the same eminence as a sculptor that Elzevir did in printing. She would then take the Bible and show me how Adam and Eve, after first eating the forbidden fruit, continued and increased their fault by making excuses. "Thus," she said, "thou seest that a sure mark of desiring to do well is to seek to be told of our faults; and, as thou growest older, thou wilt see that those who love thee and think well of thy good principle and sense, will tell thee of thy faults; and, as for those who do not, it is only because they do not care for thee, or think thee too naughty and silly to wish to amend them."

The second thing my mother taught me, and which indeed is connected with the same principle, is to value things at what they are and not at what they seem. It had pleased God, by His blessing on the industry of my grandfather and father, that I was brought up in the midst of wealth and of everything which pertained to what was really useful, either to the physical or intellectual life; but whilst this was the case, there was not one single thing, either in the furniture of our house or the appurtenances of its inmates, which was for show or for fashion; there was a use for everything, and we were taught to despise that which was not useful. No one saw at Barr the least difference made on account of rank, or riches, or fashion,

though often, I am sorry to add, they might on account of intellect. Our table, dress, and equipages were precisely the same when we sat down to dinner a family party of fourteen, as when we had ten or twenty guests with the simple difference of the necessary additional quantity. The table at breakfast, dinner, and supper was always beautifully adorned with flowers, as were our sittingrooms. My mother was always handsomely and exactly dressed, and she expected the same from all her family. She said we should be and not seem; we should do things to make home beautiful and cheerful to those who live there, more even than for others who may be occasional visitors; though they equally demand our respect and attention. We were early taught to treat with the greatest courtesy all our servants.

These principles have been a great blessing to me in after life. I was then surrounded by every luxury; since that time I have often been sorely straitened; and now, in my old age, I am given a sufficiency for necessary comforts, with economy; yet during the whole period of my life, I have, owing to my dear mother's teaching, only felt the pressure of real, not fictitious or conventional inconveniences or wants; my happiness has never depended on having a large house or a small one, extensive grounds cr no grounds, on possessing equipages or possessing them not, on living without consideration from those of my own original condition in life, or living, like many of my family, as petty sovereigns in the place where my early lot was cast. Many long years of my life, and many happy ones, have been passed in comparative destitution of these

things, at a period when they would have been merely conventional luxuries, and now that I am past threescore years and ten, God has in His mercy restored to me those which my age has rendered necessary comforts. How do I bless Him for what He took away, for what He has restored, and yet above all for my dear mother's teaching, which enabled me to be happy in both conditions! It is curious to me at this distance of time to look back and see how both the teaching of the word of God and the dictates of uncontrolled pride grew up and flourished in my mind like plants far apart in a nursery bed, each of which grows in strength from its own root, without yet having attained the size in which their branches could meet and impede each other. From the examples of Christ and His apostles, I believed dress and things for mere ornament and show to be absolutely evil; from the pride of my heart and the study of "Sandford and Merton,” I heartily despised all such things, to which I may add titles and money, and I esteemed those little better than fools who cared for any of them. On one occasion Lady Scott came over from Boulogne on a visit to my father's house. She had a French maid with her, and was adorned with feathers, flowers, and all sorts of finery. She came to transact some business relative to Barr, and remained for some weeks. I had never seen such gay dressing in my life, and I really believed that Lady Scott was labouring under an alienation of mind. One day when my parents were out of the room, and I was busily reading certain little books of Mr. Newberry's library for children, adorned with gilt paper covers, Lady Scott came up to me, took away my books,

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partner, Mr. Watt, were singeler was a man to rule wings with the contemplative life of a deeply introverted and patiently obervant philosopher. He was one of the most complete of the melancholic temperament. His head specimens www generally bent forward or leaning on his hand in editation, his shoulders stoeping and his chest falling in; bis limbs lank and unmuterlar, and his complexion sallow. His intellectual development was magnificent; comparison and causality immense, with large ideality and constructiveness, individuality, and enormous concentrativeness and caution. Whilst Mr. Bonton's eye and countenance had something of radiance, Mr. Watt's were calm, as if patiently investigating, or quietly contemplating his object. His utterance was slow and unimpassioned, deep and low in tone, with a broad Scottish accent: his manners gentle, modest, and unassuming. In a company where he was not known, unless spoken to he might have tranquilly passed the whole time in pursuing his own meditations. But this could not well happen; for in point of fact everybody practically knew the infinite variety of his talents and stores of knowledge. When Mr. Watt entered a room, men of letters, men of science, nay, military men, artists, ladies, even little children thronged round him. I remember a celebrated Swedish artist having been instructed by him that rats' whiskers make the most pliant and elastic painting-brush; ladies would appeal to him on the best means of devising grates, curing smoking chimneys, warming their houses, and obtaining fast colours. I