"God forbid, if it is so!" said their uncouth protector, glancing from the eager child to her grandfather, who hung his head and bent his eyes upon the ground. "I'll direct you from the door, the best I can. I wish I could do more." He showed them, then, by which road they must leave the town, and what course they should hold when they had gained it. He lingered so long on these instructions, that the child with a fervent blessing tore herself away, and staid to hear no more. But before they had reached the corner of the lane, the man came running after them, and pressing her hand, left something in it-two old, battered, smoke-encrusted penny pieces. Who knows but they shone as brightly in the eyes of angels, as golden gifts that have been chronicled on tombs ? And thus they separated: the child to lead her sacred charge further from guilt and shame, and the laborer to attach a fresh interest to the spot where his guests had slept; and read new histories in his furnace fire. CHAPTER XLV. In all their journeying, they had never longed so ardently, they had never so pined and wearied, for the freedom of pure air and open country, as now. No, not even on that memorable morning, when, deserting their old home, they abandoned themselves to the mercies of a strange world, and left all the dumb and senseless things they had known and loved, behind-not even then, had they so yearned for the fresh solitudes of wood, hill-side, and field, as now; when the noise and dirt and vapor, of the great manufacturing town, reeking with lean misery and hungry wretchedness, hemmed them in on every side, and seemed to shut out hope, and render escape impossible. "Two days and nights!" thought the child. "He said two days and nights we should have to spend among such scenes as these. Oh! if we live to reach the country once again, if we get clear of these dreadful places, though it is only to lie down and die, with what a grateful heart I shall thank God for so much mercy!" the surface of the stagnant pools, which here and there lay idly sweltering by the black road-side. Advancing more and more into the shadow of this mournful place, its dark depressing influence stole upon their spirits, and filled them with a dismal gloom. On every side, and as far as the eye could see into the heavy distance, tall chimneys, crowding on each other, and presenting that endless repetition of the same dull, ugly, form, which is the horror of oppressive dreams, poured out their plague of smoke, obscured the light, and made foul the melancholy air. On mounds of ashes by the way-side, sheltered only by a few rough boards, or rotten pent-house roofs, strange engines spun and writhed like tortured creatures; clanking their iron chains, shrieking in their rapid whirl from time to time as though in torment unendurable, and making the ground tremble with their agonies. Dismantled houses here and there appeared, tottering to the earth, propped up by fragments of others that had fallen down, unroofed, windowless, blackened, desolate, but yet inhabited. Men, women, children, wan in their looks and ragged in attire, tended the engines, fed their tributary fires, begged upon the Then came more of the wrathful monsters, whose like they road, or scowled half-naked from the doorless houses. almost seemed to be in their wildness and their untamed still, before, behind, and to the right and left, was the same air, screeching and turning round and round again; and interminable perspective of brick towers, never ceasing in their black vomit, blasting all things living or inanimate, shutting out the face of day, and closing on all these horrors with a dense dark cloud. smoke was changed to fire; when every chimney spirted But night-time in this dreadful spot!-night, when the up its flame; and places, that had been dark vaults all day, now shone red-hot, with figures moving to and fro within their blazing jaws, and calling to one another with hoarse cries-night, when the noise of every strange machine was aggravated by the darkness; when the people near them looked wilder and more savage; when bands of unemployed laborers paraded in the roads, or clustered by torchlight round their leaders, who told them in stern language of their wrongs, and urged them on to frightful cries and threats, when maddened men, armed with sword and firebrand, spurning the tears and prayers of women who would restrain them, rushed forth on errands of terror and destruction, to work no ruin half so surely as their own-night, when carts came rumbling by, filled with rude coffins (for contagious disease and death had been busy with the living crops); when orphans cried, and distracted women shrieked and followed in their wake-night, when some called for bread, and some for drink to drown their cares; and some "We shall be very slow to-day, dear," she said, as they with tears, and some with staggering feet, and some with toiled painfully through the streets; "my feet are sore, and bloodshot eyes, went brooding home-night, which, unlike I have pains in all my limbs from the wet of yesterday..the night that Heaven sends on earth, brought with it no saw that he looked at us and thought of that, when he said how long we should be upon the road." With thoughts like this, and with some vague design of travelling to a great distance among streams and mountains, where only very poor and simple people lived, and where they might maintain themselves by very humble helping work on farms, free from such terrors as that from which they fled, the child, with no resource but the poor man's gift, and no encouragement but that which flowed from her own heart, and its sense of the truth and right of what she did, nerved herself to this last journey, and boldly pursued her task. "It was a dreary way he told us of," returned her grandfather, piteously. "Is there no other road? Will you not let me go some other way than this?" "Places lie beyond these," said the child, firmly, "where we may live in peace, and be tempted to do no harm. We will take the road that promises to have that end, and we would not turn out of it, if it were a hundred times worse than our fears lead us to expect. We would not, dear, would we?" "No," replied the old man, wavering in his voice, no less than in his manner. "No. Let us go on. I am ready. I am quite ready, Nell." The child walked with more difficulty than she had led her companion to expect, for the pains that racked her joints were of no common severity, and exertion increased them. But they wrung from her no complaint, or look of suffering; and although the two travellers proceeded very slowly, they did proceed; and clearing the town in course of time, began to feel that they were fairly on their way. A long suburb of red brick houses-some with patches of garden-ground, where coal-dust and factory smoke darkened the shrinking leaves, and coarse rank flowers: and where the struggling vegetation sickened and sank under the hot breath of the kiln and furnace, making them by its presence seem yet more blighting and unwholesome than in the town itself, a long, flat, straggling suburb passed, they came by slow degrees upon a cheerless region, where not a blade of grass was seen to grow; where not a bud put forth its promise in the spring; where nothing green could live but on peace, nor quiet, nor signs of blessed sleep,-who shall tell the terrors of the night to that young wandering child! And yet she lay down, with nothing between her and the sky; and with no fears for herself, for she was past it now, put up a prayer for the poor old man. So very weak and spent she felt, so very calm and unresisting, that she had no thoughts of any wants of her own, but prayed that God would raise up some friend for him. She tried to recall the way they had come, and to look in the direction where the fire by which they had slept last night was burning. She had forgotten to ask the name of the poor man, their friend, and when she had remembered him in her prayers, it seemed ungrateful not to turn one look towards the spot where he was watching. A penny loaf was all they had had that day. It was very little, but even hunger was forgotten in the strange tranquillity that crept over her senses. She lay down very gently, and, with a quiet smile upon her face, fell into a slumber. It was not like sleep-and yet it must have been, or why those pleasant dreams of the little scholar all night long! Morning came. Much weaker, diminished powers even of sight and hearing, and yet the child made no complaintperhaps would have made none, even if she had not that inducement to be silent, travelling by her side. She felt a hopelessness of their ever being extricated together from that forlorn place, a dull conviction that she was very ill, perhaps dying; but no fear or anxiety. A loathing of food, that she was not conscious of until they expended their last penny in the purchase of another loaf, prevented her partaking even of this poor repast. Her grandfather ate greedily, which she was glad to see. Their way lay through the same scenes as yesterday, | tardy pace at which she was obliged to walk Evening with no variety or improvement. There was the same was drawing on, but had not closed in, when-still travel. thick air, difficult to breathe; the same blighted ground, ing among the same dismal objects-they came to a busy the same hopeless prospect, the same misery and distress. town. Objects appeared more dim, the noise less, the path more rugged and uneven, for sometimes she stumbled, and became roused, as it were, in the effort to prevent herself fram falling. Poor child! the cause was in her tottering feet. Toward the afternoon, her grandfather complained bitterly of hunger. She approached one of the wretched hovels by the way side, and knocked with her hand upon the door. "What would you have here?" said a gaunt, miserable man, opening it. 66 Charity. A morsel of bread." "Do you see that!" returned the man, hoarsely, pointing to a kind of bundle on the ground. "That's a dead child. I and five hundred other men were thrown out of work three months ago. That is my third dead child, and last. Do you think I have charity to bestow, or a morsel of bread to spare!" The child recoiled from the door, and it closed upon her. Impelled by strong necessity, she knocked at another, a neighboring one, which, yielding to the slight pressure of her hand, flew open. It seemed that a couple of poor families lived in this hovel, for two women, each among children of her own, occupied different portions of the room In the centre stood a grave gentleman in black, who appeared to have just entered, and who held by the arm a boy. 66 Here, woman," he said, "here's your deaf and dumb son. You may thank me for restoring him to you. He was brought before me this morning charged with theft; and with any other boy it would have gone hard, I assure you. But as I had compassion on his infirmities, and thought he might have learned no better, I have managed to bring him back to you. Take more care of him for the future." "And won't you give me back my son!" said the other woman, hastily rising and confronting him. Won't you give me back my son, sir, who was transported for the same offence?" "Was he deaf and dumb, woman?" asked the gentleman, sternly. Was he not, sir?" "You know he was not." Peace, woman," said the gentleman, "your boy was in possession of all his senses." Faint and spiritless as they were, its streets were insupportable. After humbly asking for relief at some few doors and being repulsed, they agreed to make their way out of it as speedily as they could, and try if the inmates of any lone house beyond, would have more pity on their exhausted state. They were dragging themselves along through the last street, and the child felt that the time was close at hand when her enfeebled powers would bear no more. There appeared before them, at this juncture, going in the same direction as themselves, a traveller on foot, who, with a portmanteau strapped to his back, leaned upon a stout stick, as he walked, and read from a book which he held in his other hand. It was not an easy matter to come up with him, and be seech his aid, for he walked fast, and was a little distance in advance. At length he stopped to look more attentively at some passage in his book. Animated with a ray of hope, the child shot on before her grandfather, and, going close to the stranger without rousing him by the faint words to implore his help. He turned his head, the child clapped her hands together, uttered a wild shriek, and fell senseless at his feet. MUSIC AND THE MUSCULAR SENSE.-The divisions of the time in music in some degree depend on the muscular sense. A man will put down his staff in regulated time, and in his common walk the sound of his steps will fall into a measure. A boy striking the railing in mere wantonness will do it with a regular succession of blows. This disposition in the muscular frame to put itself into motion with an accordance to time, is the source of much that is pleasing in music and assists the effect of melody. The closest connection is thus established between the employ ments of the sense of hearing and the exercise of the mus cular sense. The effect of disorders of the nervous system is sometimes to show how natural certain combinations o actions are in the exercise of the muscular frame. The following is a curious illustration of what we have just beer dwelling upon A young woman-who, by the by, could not be taught to He was," cried the woman. "He was deaf, dumb and go down a country dance-under a norbid mental excite blind, to all that was good and right, from his cradle. Her ment, in association with the organs of voluntary motion, boy may have learnt no better! where did mine learn bet- began to exercise involuntary movements not unbecom.ng ter? where could he? who was there to teach him better, an opera-dancer. At one time she would pace slow y or where was it to be learnt ?" round the room as in a minuet, with a measured step, the arms carried with elegance at another she would stand on the toes of one foot, and beat time with the other. Ca some occasions she would strike the table, or whatever she could reach with her hand, many times softly, and then with force. At length it was found that she did every thing in rhythms. A friend thought that, in her regular beating, he could recognize a tune, and he began singing it. The moment this struck her ears she turned suddenly to the man, danced directly up to him, and continued to dance until she was quite out of breath. "He was," cried the mother; "and he was the more easy to be led astray because he had them. If you save this boy because he may not know right from wrong, why did you not save mine who was never taught the difference? You gentlemen have as good a right to punish her boy, that God has kept in ignorance of sound and speech, as you have to punish mine, that you kept in ignorance yourselves. How many of the girls and boys-ah, men and women, too —that are brought before you, and you do n't pity, are deaf and dumb in their minds, and go wrong in that state, and are punished in that state, body and soul, while you gentlemen are quarrelling among yourselves whether they ought to learn this or that? Be a just man, sir, and give me back my son." "You are desperate," said the gentleman, taking out his snuff-box," and I am sorry for you." "I am desperate," returned the woman, "and you have made me so. Give me back my son, to work for these helpless children. Be a just man, sir, and for God's sake, as you have had mercy upon this boy, give me back my son!" The child had seen and heard enough to know that this was not a place at which to ask for alms. She led the old man softly from the door, and they pursued their journey. With less and less of hope or strength, as they went on, but with an undiminished resolution not to betray by any word or sign her sinking state, so long as she had energy to move, the child, throughout the remainder of that hard day, compelled herself to proceed; not even stopping to rest as frequently as usual, to compensate in some measure for the The cure of this young woman was of a very unusual kind; a drum and fife were procured, and when a tune corresponding to the rhythms of her movements was played, in whatever part of the room she was she would dance close up to the drum, and continue dancing until she missed the step; when these involuntary motions instantly ceased, and the paroxysm ended. The physician profiting by this, and observing a motion in her lips, put his ear close to her mouth; he thought he could hear her sing; and questioning her, she said that there was always a tune dwelling upon her mind, which at times had an irresistible influence upon her, and impelled her to begin her involuntary motions. In the end, she was cured by altering the time in the beating of the drum; for whenever she missed the time, the motions stopped. We may now ask, what is this extraordina ry disease? From being an excitable state of the nervous and musical system it will be called choro: but it is an in stance of a natural combination of muscular actions morbidly produced; just as hysteria. where we have the ex pressions of various natural passions exhibited, for example, weeping or laughing. SONG. Drink to the hoar old Christmas-tide, Crown high the festive bowl! Though the storm-cloud ride on the bleak hill-side. And the wintry tempest howl, Drink, then, drink-'tis the time for mirth, Pass the flowing cup about, While the yule-log flares on the glowing hearth, And the north wind storms without. Drink to the hoar old Christmas-tide, Though the summer sun be warm, Though fair the flow'r in the spring's green bow'r, While the yule-log flares on the glowing hearth, A CHINESE STORY. E. M [The annals of China give the following history as true, and we ought not to take it for romance. It has been translated from the Chinese into French by the late R. P. Dentrecolles. In China, it may be mentioned that each town prints whatever occurs, of a singular character, in its district. They take especial care to collect accounts of the lives of individuals distinguished by arms or by letters, or who have sustained an integrity beyond the common standard. These memoirs are generally very instructive. They embody maxims cal culated to improve the manners and always point to the practice of some virtue. How many Christian writers might profitably imi ate such a method, and propose to themselves the task of conveying in struction as the constant objects of their works! Since the greatest demand of the present day is the demand for novelty, perhaps we may add, that, within the limits of Europe, we shall scarcely find a greater novelty than a real Chinese story. Ours wears an air of strangeness; but for that it is all the better. It is well to bear in mind the observation of an ingenious Frenchman, that the Chinese write, their histories with a simplicity unexampled in the rest of Asia.] THERE once lived at Nankin three brothers, Lin the Diamond, Lin the Treasure, and Lin the Pearl. Lin the Diamond, who was the eldest, was enjoying a life of the purest happiness with Ouang, his wife, when compelled by the most pressing concerns to undertake a long journey. As they were many years without having news of him, they began to believe him dead; and Lin the Treasure, who thereby became the master of his house, assured Ouang of it so positively, that she allowed herself at last to be persuaded, and resorted to deep mourning. Lin the Treasure had a bad heart; he was capable of the most unworthy actions. "I shall doubt no more of it,' said he; "my brother is dead, and I am the master. His wife is young and handsome; her parents are distant, and she cannot implore their aid. I must constrain her incessantly to marry: I shall get money by it." He communicated his design to Yang, his wife, and commanded her to set about a proper negotiation for marriage. Quang rejected afar off all the propositions that were made her. She protested that she would remain a widow, and thereby honor the memory of her beloved husband. Lin the Pearl, her other brother-in-law, confirmed her in this resolution. Thus all the artifices that could be employed proved unsuccessful. And as it entered time after time into her mind, that it was by no means certain whether her husband were dead, she resolved on that point to inform herself. It was this that determined her to entreat Lin the Pearl to betake himself into the province of Chang-si, to ascertain if indeed she had had the misfortune to lose her husband, and, in that case, to fetch her his precious re mains. Lin the Treasure, on the departure of his younger brother, became more ardent in his pursuits. He was in a rage for gambling during several days, and in this had been so unlucky, that he knew not where to find the money to have his revenge. In the embarrassment in which he found himself, he accidently encountered a merchant of Kiang-si who had lost his wife, and was in search of another. Lin the Treasure embraced the occasion and promised him his sister-in-law. The merchant accepted the proposition, after having taken the precaution to inform himself secretly whether the person proposed to him were young and handsome. When thus assured, he produced thirty taels* to conclude the bargain. Lin the Treasure, having received this sum, said to the merchant, "I ought to apprise you that my sister-in-law is proud, disdainful, and extremely fastidious. She will make many obstacles when she come to quit the house, and you will have much trouble in prevailing with her. Observe, then, what you ought to do. This evening, at nightfall, have a couch, adorned according to custom, and some good bearers; come noiselessly, and present yourself at our door. The lady who will appear, with a head-dress of mourning, is my sister-in-law; speak not a word to her, and listen not to what she would say to you; but seize on her at once; cast her into the couch, conduct her on board your bark, and make sail." This expedient pleased the merchant very much, and the execution appeared to him easy. Lin the Treasure, having returned to the house, dissembled himself in presence of his sister-in-law, in order that she might suspect nothing of the project he had formed; but soon as she had withdrawn, he imparted it in confidence to his wife; and indicating the lovely Ouang by a spiteful jest, "It must be," said he, "that this two-footed merchandise go forth, this night, of our house. As to that, I trouble myself little. I wish not, however, to find myself present at that scene, and I shall go abroad for some moments. Toward nightfall, some people, well accompanied, will come to our gate, and carry her off in a well-closed couch". He would have proceeded, when he was all at once arrested by the noise which he heard. It was his sister-inlaw, who was passing near the chamber window. Lin the Treasure thereupon hurried out by another door; and the precipitation of his retreat permitted him not to add all the circumstances of the abduction, and especially the mark of the head-dress of mourning, by which the Lady Ouang was to have been distinguished. This happened, without doubt, by an especial providence from Heaven. Quang easily perceived that the noise which she had made nigh to the window, had obliged Lin the Treasure abruptly to break off the conversation; but she had heard enough of it to be unable to doubt concerning the evil intentions of her brother-in-law. She entered the chamber and approachdear sister," said she to her, "you behold an unhappy wiing Yang-sang, to her declared her apprehensions. My dow, who is knit to you by the closest ties of a friendship which was ever most sincere. It is by this friendship that I implore you to avow to me frankly if my brother-in-law still persists in wishing to force me to a marriage which will tend to my confusion!" At this demand, Yang at first appeared disconcerted, and ed, "What think you of, my sister?" said she ;" and what blushed; but speedily assuming a countenance more assurimaginations do you put into your mind? If it were proposed to re-marry you, do you believe we should be very much embarrassed by it? Eh! What good to throw one's self into the water, before the vessel is threatened with shipwreck?" As soon as the Lady Ouang heard this proverb, drawn from the vessel, she better comprehended the meaning of the secret discourse of her brother-in-law. She broke out into lamentations and sighs, and abandoning herself to grief, shut herself up in her chamber, where she wept, groaned, and bewailed herself. "Oh! I am most wretched," cried she; "I know not who may become my husband. Lin the Pearl, my brother-in-law, and my friend, on whom I could have depended, is on a journey; my father, my mother, my parents, are far distant from this place; if this affair be precipitated, how shall I be able to apprise them? I have no aid to expect from our neighbors; Lin the Treahe is capable of the greatest villanies. Unfortunate being sure is a terror to the whole district, and they know that that I am, I shall never escape his snares! If I fall not into them to-day, I shall to-morrow, or within a very short time. Every thing well considered, let me close this painful exis * About six shillings sterling. tence; let me die in good time-that will be much better than enduring a thousand deaths: and what is my life if net one continual death!" ers. The trepidations of this unhappy lady lasted till night, and after much reflection, she confirmed herself in the determination to die, rather than fall into the hands of her ravish As soon as the sun disappeared from the horizon, and the obscurity of night supplied his place, she shut herself up, without light, in her chamber, and cried, "Almighty Tien, avenge me, protect me !" Her distresses and desolations were so great, that she threw off her head-dress, tore her hair, and yielding to the wildest grief, she fell very faint and exhausted, rudely on the floor. The noise of this disaster caused Dame Yang to rush toward the spot, and finding the door secured, she forced it with a bar. As she was without light, in entering the chamber she entangled her feet in the dress of the Lady Quang, and tumbled backward. This mishap threw her head-dress to a considerable distance, and the fright with which she was seized rendered her se. veral moments insensible. As soon as she had regained her consciousness, she raised herself, went in search of a light and returned to the chamber, where she found the Lady Ouang still extended immoveably on the ground. At the instant, when she would have procured assistance, she heard some one strike softly on the door of the house. She doubted not that it was the merchant of Kiang-si, who was coming in search of the wife whom he had purchased. She wished to hasten to his reception, and introduce him into the chamber of her sister-in-law. Her eagerness, and the scruple which she had against showing herself without a head-dress, caused her to pick up the mourning one of the Lady Ouang, which she found at hand. It was truly the merchant of Kiang-si, who had come to carry off the lady promised him. He had brought a wedding-litter, decorated with silken streamers, with festoons of flowers, and innumerable beautiful lamps It was sur rounded by domestics bearing lighted torches, and a band of musicians with flutes and hautboys. All this retinue was drawn up in the street, without the instruments being played or noise being made. The merchant himself was detached from it, and had struck gently at the gate. But having found it ajar, he entered the house, with some of those who held the flambeaux to show the way. 66 sponse. He swore, he stamped, he roared enough to make himself hoarse. At length the Lady Ouang drew near to the door, and keeping behind without opening it, "Who is it that knocks," said she, "and makes such a noise?" Lin the Treasure, who distinguished well enough the voice of his sister-in-law, was seized with extreme consternation. His confusion was unbounded, perceiving that she refused to open. He had recourse to an expedient which succeeded with him. "Sister-in-law," said he, good and happy news! Lin the Pearl, my younger brother, is returned, and our elder brother enjoys perfect health. Open quickly!" At this agreeable intelligence, the Lady Ouang, hastily assuming the black head-dress, which had been left by Dame Yang, opened with eagerness, expecting to find her good brother-in-law, Lin the Pearl; but in vain her eyes sought him; she perceived only Lin the Treasure. The latter proceeded to his apartment; but not finding his wife there, and remarking a black head-dress on the head of his sisterin-law, he then feared his misfortune. "Ha! where then is your sister-in-law ?" said he to Ouang. "You should know better than I," replied that lady, "since it is you who have contrived this nice intrigue." "But," replied Lin the Treasure, "why wear you not the white head-dress? Have you laid aside your mourning?" The Lady Ouang had the condescension to relate to him what had occurred in his absence. Scarcely had she finished, when Lin the Treasure beat his breast passionately, and worked himself up to despair. Regaining his temper, at length, by slow degrees, “I have still one expedient in misfortune," said he to himself, "and that is to sell my sister-in-law. With the money she will fetch me, shall I buy another wife, and none shall know I have been unhappy enough to sell my own." He had gambled all the preceding night, and lost the thirty taels which he had received of the merchant of Kiang-si, who was already very far away with his new spouse. He was preparing to sally forth to go negotiating this new bargain, when he observed at the door four or five in. dividuals, who pressed for admission. These were his elder brother Lin the Diamond, his younger brother Lin the Pearl, his nephew Hieul, and two domestics who were bearing the luggage. Lin the Treasure, confounded at this sight, had not the face to endure their presence; he evaded them as quickly as he could by the back door, and disap The Lady Ouang, transported with joy, hastened to receive her dear husband. But how incredibly lively were her emotions when she perceived a son, whom she loved with exceeding tenderness, and had long given up as lost. She scarce could recognise him, he had grown so tall and handsome. "Ah! by what good fortune," cried she, “have you recovered this dear child, whom I had believed lost?" As soon as the Dame Yang appeared, the merchant noticed upon her the mourning head-dress, which was the to-peared like lightning. ken assigned him; and being, besides, charmed with her appearance, and some glimpses of her countenance, threw himself upon her, like a hungry gled upon a little bird. The people in his train hastened up, carried off the lady, and enclosed her in the litter, which was all prepared for her reception. She made a good outery that they deceived themselves, that it was not she whom they sought: the flourish of instruments was instantly heard, and drowned her voice, while the litter-bearers stepped out with the more good will, in order to transport her to the bark. During this time the Lady Ouang had come to herself, and recovered her recollection. The great disturbance which she heard at the door of the house renewed he alarms, and caused her mortal uneasiness. But as she per ceived that the sound of the instruments, and that confusion of voice and of music which had struck up all at once, wore farther off every moment, she re-assured herself; and in a few minutes she regained courage, aud went forth to see what was ado. The Lady Ouang having called many times in vain for her sister-in-law, comprehended that the merchant had deceived himself, and that he had carried off her whom he did not seek; but she dreaded some troublesome vicissitude when Lin the Treasure should become aware of the mistake. She shut herself up in her chamber, gathered up the head-trimmings, the ear-rings, and the black head-dress which lay upon the ground, and she thereupon dreamed of courting a brief repose; but it was impossible for her to oclse an eye all the night long. At the break of day she arose, washed her face; and while she searched for her head-dress of mourning to put on, she heard a great noise at the house-door. Some one beat it rudely and called "Open, now!" It was Lin the Treasure, whose voice she recognised. Her part was speedily taken: she left him to knock there without re*In Europe, mourning is generally black; in China and Japan it is, on the contrary, white, as amongst the ancient Spartan and Roman jadies. Lin the Diamond gave his wife a recital of his whole adventures, and she, in turn, related to him at large all the in dignities to which Lin the Treasure had subjected her, and the extremities to which he had reduced her. Lin the Diamond, on this occasion, accorded to his virtuous spouse the just praises which her fidelity merited.He exclaimed, in concluding, "If, by a blind passion for wealth, I had retained two hundred taels which I found by chance, how should I have been able to retrace our dear son? If avarice had prevented me from devoting twenty taels to succor those who had suffered shipwreck, my dear brother should have perished in the waves, and I have seen him no more. If, by an unexpected adventure, I had not encountered that excellent brother, how should I have timeously discovered the trouble and confusion which reigned in my house! Without that, my dear wife, we should never have seen ourselves re-united, our family should have been dismembered and plunged into affliction. This is all the effect of a particular providence of Heaven, which has brought about these several events. As for my other brother-a brother most unnatural-who unwittingly has sold his own wife, he has justly drawn on himself the evils that overwhelm him. The mighty Tien treats men according to their deserts. They need not believe that they can escape his justice. We may hereby learn how profita ble it is to practice virtue; it is this that renders, day by day, a house more prosperous!" Some time thereafter, the young Hieul returned to Yangteheu, to espouse the lovely daughter of Tchin. This marriage was celebrated with great tokens of rejoicing, and to the mutual satisfaction of both families. He conducted his -Bird of mine! though rivers wide Mourn not! Let a brighter doom Cometh, am I not thy friend, POPULAR PEOPLE. BY MRS. GORE. "The success of certain works may be traced to sympathy between the author's mediocrity of ideas, and mediocrity of ideas on the part of the public!" observes a shrewd writer-evidently not a popular one, or he would entertain higher respect for the tribunal of public taste. is certain, however, whether as regards books or men, that there exists an excellence too excellent for general favor. It lithographed into fame, and hung in all the inn parlors of the kingdom. So it is with human beings.-There are people as well as pieces who obtain possession of the stage; there are favored guests as well as favored pictures to be found in every parlor; there are talkers as well as tunes, that haunt one like a hand-organ in all directions; people whom every body likes,-whom every body invites, and concerning whom every body, when asked the motive of their liking, is sure to answer, "I like them because every body likes them, I like them because they are so popular.' The newspapers confer this arbitrary epithet upon their favorites as a species of diploma: "Mr. A., the popular poet," "Mr. B., the popular preacher," "Mr. C., the popular member," "Mr. D., the popular actor," and so on through the alphabet; though the greatest poets, preachers, and senators, have doubtless been the least popular. Irving was at one time the popular preacher; and Grimaldi throughout his career, the popular clown. Society is apt to confer the honors of popularity upon lords and ladies, squires and squiresses, with partiality equally undiscriminating. Society dotes upon people who are neither so wise, so clever, so good, nor so great, as to afford too high a standard of wisdom or virtue, and consequently a tacit reproach to its own deficiencies. "Too good by half," "too clever by half," is a frequent phrase among those who are sneakingly conscious of being silly or worthless. With a plansible air, they admit that Mr. A.'s poetry, Mr. B.'s prose, or Mr. C.'s speeches, may be very fine for any thing they know; but they do not pretend to understand them; and with the same fatal smile of virtuous stupidity, they declare that, "A is a superior man, certainly, but nobody can bear him,-B an accomplished woman, but singularly unpopular. But all the world admits the merits of the charming Mr. C. and Mrs. D. ;-Mr. C. being so great an enlivenment to a dinner-party, and Mrs. D. a host in herself at Christmas in a country-house." Mr. C. and Mrs. D. are, of course, set down to become Popular People. It is easy to understand how books may be puffed or nos. trums advertised into popularity. Names that meet us in placards on every wall, or morning and evening in the columns of every newspaper, become, whether we will or no, engraven on our memory. We have all heard or read of Mallan's teeth, Solomon's amber spectacles, Mechi's razorstrops, or Stocken's envelopes; we have seen them praised till we begin to have some faith in their virtues. We cannot believe that so much printer's ink and advertisement duty would be expended for nothing. But it is much more difficult to comprehend how "the world's large tongue" can be bribed to wag in favor of the Mr. C.s and Mrs. D.s "A sop to Cerberus," is the ordinary way of stopping the bark and bite of the infernal monster. But that " manyheaded monster thing," the public, is a Cerberus requiring such a perpetual supply of sops, that the effort seems supernatural. The truth is, that popularity resembles certain echoes which, once evoked, repeat themselves ad infinitum. If any one can be found to utter the phrase or praise loud enough in the first instance, it proceeds in the sequel to repeat itself after the fashion of the courtiers in Count Hamilton's charming story of "Fleur d'Epine." We are wrong, perhaps, to say any one;" for the privilege of bestowing popularity is specific with certain persons. Let the dullest book ever written be praised in a certain review-it will sell; let the dullest dog that ever prosed be proclaimed an able man by a certain coterie,-he will become a popular talker. We have more than one charming countess who has only to pronounce a man a bel esprit, to stamp his popularity at all the dinners of the season; we have more than one valseur at Almack's, who has only to dance twice with the same debutante, to render her the most popular partner in the ball-rooms of May Fair. To make a hit, to captivate the public eye, ear, or under- In such trivial distinctions as these, indeed, it is not surstanding, without a certain degree of merit, is impossible. prising that the world should be credulous. But in matters But it is not merit of the highest order that makes the hard- that concern its welfare,-its existence here and hereafter,est hit. Merit of the highest order must be "caviar to the its mortal body,-its immortal soul!-To let the pretty pratgeneral." The chef d'œuvres of art and literature are often tlers or elephantine prosers of society, create the popular condemned to years of obscurity, while some vulgar ballad physician,-the popular preacher!-The namby-pamby of seized upon by the barrel-organs, is made to persecute us the popular poet may be laid on the shelf; but through the in every street: while some coarse actor having convulsed blunders of the popular physician we may come to be laid the house with laughter by his buffooneries, the new farce out,-to be laid in the grave; while the errors of the popu becomes the darling of the public; while some familiar in-lar preacher may condemn us to a still more alarming concident daubed by the illustrative brush of a jocose artist, is summation. Through the combined agency of both, we |