ELIZA COOK'S JOURNAL.

lesson of real dignity and Christian forbearance from the formerly despised humpback.

As they were returning from a walk one evening, George suddenly turned to Edwin, and said, "What can be the reason that people like to torment those who are strange or ugly in their appearance?"

"You can answer that question," said Edwin smiling. "Come, examine yourself. Why did you formerly take pleasure in tormenting a little humpback boy of my acquaintance?"

"Hichory I thought you had forgiven and forgotten all

that."

"I have forgiven, dear George, but I do not wish to forget, for I like to think how different you are now." "Different indeed, with this face, I fear. I never should have altered, but for becoming the object of ridicule myself, which taught me sympathy for those who are in

the same unfortunate situation."

"George, I wish I could see you less sensitive to ridicule. A firm, mild, forbearing demeanour would disarm your tormentors, and cause them to respect, instead of teasing you. As long as they see you so thinskinned, they will do their best to annoy you. And I also wish, my dear fellow, that you could but remember You would then feel your former self just as you were. how far happier you are now, notwithstanding your mortifications; you would know how much rather those who oppress and torture others are to be pitied than feared. Tyranny and cruelty hinder growth in good, and recoil back on the hearts of those who practise them, making the tyrant and the bully far more really objects of compassion, than the victims who shrink from their presence with a dread. Assume your proper place, my friend, respect yourself, and others will respect you.'

From this time there was a great improvement in George Barton's position with his schoolfellows. By good-humouredly joining in the jest or the laugh against himself, he deprived their sarcasm of its venom; by mingled frankness and forbearance he disarmed their boyish cruelty; and gradually rising by his persevering industry to the head of the school, he became generally looked up to and respected.

As he grew older, his countenance, though it did not improve in feature and complexion, was illumined by the beauty of a thoughtful and benevolent mind, and people forgot his face in his conversation.

George Barton is now an author, and his friend is an eminent publisher, and between them they do all in their power to cultivate the youthful heart, and to teach the boys and girls of England to look rather to the inner man than to the outward appearance, and in so doing, to approach nearer to the perfection of God.

HOPES.

"OH boy! why seek'st thou with such care,
Those bubbles of the sea?

Thy touch but frees the prison'd air."-
"I'm gathering hopes," saith he.

"Old man, why in that shatter'd bark
Dost tempt this troubled sea,
Without a compass, rudder, mark?

"I'm following hope," saith he.

THE doctrine that the necessity of labour is a blessing, and not a curse, cannot be insisted upon too strongly. It is to this very necessity that mankind owes not only its first redemption from the savage state, but every step of its advance in a civilization, from which, we trust, a great deal more may be expected still.

RURAL LIFE.

In some countries, and in Spain among others, agricul-
ture was at one time regarded with contempt, a prejudice
that only bespoke the ignorance and debasement of the
minds that cherished it. In settling this question, the
Spaniard had only to recur to the time when Adam
delved and Eve span," and when the sons of kings were
hewers of wood, and their daughters drawers of water.
To a mind, in fact, free from ambition, and in times
moderately favourable, there can be few occupations

more delightful than that of a farmer. He does not

constantly operate upon stocks and stones; he does not
No; he addresses himself
are positively baneful.
pander to a vitiated taste, and deal in commodities that
presses art into the service of nature, and has to do with
directly to the great source of all our enjoyments, he
the weighty concerns of soil, season, and climate; his
moon, and clouds; and aided by these, he produces the
workshop is the fruitful earth; his machinery the sun,
elements of every comfort, irrigating the parched plain,
draining the morass, inclosing the common, and reclaim-
In a word, it is his fortune to
ing the barren waste.
exemplify, in some degree, the truth of Swift's position,
"that he who raises two ears of corn where only one
than hundreds on hundreds of names which history, in
grew before," is more useful in his day and generation,
her great charity, seems never tired of eulogizing, but
who, where the truth dare be told, were only remarkable
for the miseries they entailed on the human race.

On observing the pale-faced mechanic hurrying away
to his morning labours, we almost regret, with Rousseau,
that great cities should have become so numerous, that
mankind should be congregated in such mighty masses;
and think, not without pain, of the many long hours the
artisan must pass in the tainted atmosphere of a crowded
manufactory. But how different are our feelings on
seeing the gardener resuming the badge of his trade, or
the plough-boy harnessing his well-trained team! Though
the toils of both may be hard, they are surrounded
with every object that is rural and inviting; the grass
springs and the daisy blossoms under their feet; the
wanes; the blackbird serenades them from every hedge
sun tells them by his shadows how the day waxes or
or tree; and they enjoy, moreover, the inexpressible
pleasure of beholding Nature, in her fairest forms,
rewarding most munificently their skill and industry.
How does the citizen sigh for such scenes! and how
soon, when his fortune is made, does he hurry away from
the confines of a second Babel, to sink the merchant
in the gentleman farmer! Few strive to rival the handi-
craftsman by making their own shoes, or any other
needful article of dress; but all, yes, all who are able,
strive to trim their own gardens, and superintend the
cultivation of their own property.

GENIUS is lord of the world. Men labour at the foundation of society, while the lowly lark, unseen and little prized, sits, hard by, in his nest on the earth, gathering strength to bear his song up to the sun. Slowly rise basement and monumental aisle, column and architrave, dome and lofty tower; and when the cloudpiercing spire is burnished with gold, and the fabric stands perfect and wondrous, up springs the forgotten lark, with airy wheel, to the pinnacle, and standing poised and unwondering on his giddy perch, he pours out his celestial music till his bright footing trembles with harmony. And when the song is done, and mounting thence, he soars away to fill his exhausted heart at the fountains of the sun, the dwellers in the towers below look up to the gilded spire and shout-not to the burnished shaft, but to the lark-lost from it in the sky.— N. P. Willis.

FORTUNE AND LOVE.

Let me live without Fortune, if Providence will it,
For Joy can be found where small treasure is shed;
Those who bear a full cup are most fearful to spill it,
And oftentimes walk with the narrowest tread.
I care not though Fate may deny me profusion,
If earth will but show me some rays from above;
Tell me not that God's light is a dreamy illusion-

I could live without Fortune, but not without Love!

Oh! 'tis pleasant to know there are beings about us
Who tune the most exquisite strings in our heart,
To feel that they would not be happy without us,

And that we, in our loneliness, sigh when we part.
Oh! there's something divine in the thought that we cherish
A star-beam within us, that shines from above-
To know, that if all the world gives us should perish,
The greatest of Fortune still dwells in our love!

Oh! 'tis glory to feel that we live for some others,
That self is not all we depend on below,
That affection yet links us to sisters and brothers,
Whose faith will be constant, come weal or come woe.
Though the vulture of trouble may harass our bosom,
Ne'er fear while our spirit is fed by the dove;
Let the desert of Life give Eternity's blossom,

And we'll live without Fortune, while favoured by Love!

ELIZA COOK.

A VILLAGE SCHOOL FEAST.

DIAMOND DUST.

SOME persons are so tenacious of memory, that they forget nothing but the services they have received, and the errors they have committed.

TALENTS, like riches, are dangerous for their possessors to display them on every occasion. Mediocrity, both intellectual and physical, is the best shield, and the surest protection against envy and detraction.

LIFE, like the diamond in a mine, is sometimes valueless to its owner, until it becomes estimated by another. THE symbol of universal charity is the doll. It is the personification of an idea. It is good-will, made wood. ORDER is nature's beauty.

THE Vices of the rich and great are mistaken for errors, and those of the poor and lowly for crimes.

He who cannot hold his peace till the true time comes for acting and speaking, is no right man.

THERE is a moral pauperism in the man who is dependent on others for that support of moral lifeself-respect.

WILL the bending of another man's knees give ease to yours?

MYSTIFICATIONS are, and will continue to be, an amusement for idle people, whether more or less ingenious. A venial wickedness, a self-complacent malice, is an enjoyment for those who have neither resources in themselves nor a wholesome external activity.

SOMETIMES, to unkindness and injustice, silence may be safer than even the soft answer which turneth away wrath.

He who takes conscience for his guide, will not easily lose his way.

LIBERTY, exempt from the distractions of ill-fortune, and the encroachments of any social interference, should circumscribe its own caprices; otherwise it will grow sick, either through intemperance or satiety. Every man's thoughts ought to have some object in sight, not always, nor eagerly, but with hope. His right of selection is enough for liberty.

THERE is pleasure enough in this life to make us wish to live, and pain enough to reconcile us to death when we can live no longer.

ART is more godlike than science; science discovers,

art creates.

REFLECTION is a flower of the mind, giving out a wholesome fragrance; but reverie is the same flower, when rank, and running to seed.

THE treasures of the deep are not so precious as are the concealed comforts of a man locked up in woman's love.

THE children of the poor have few pleasures or amusements which we can dwell upon. Charles Lamb said they were not brought up, but dragged up. Yet one scene in the life of village childhood is like a page out of a better and older book-and we may rejoice and be glad of it. What scene is this? Surely the school feast? A homely and simple custom, yet one which, we ought to be very thankful, is now of frequent occurrence in our country villages. The children are met on the parsonage lawn. A rare summer eve in some quiet village. How those little eyes sparkle with expectation! It is but tea and bread and butter, or may be a bit of cake. It is but a childish game or a dance on the soft grass. It is but a few kind words of love and looks of affection. How simple the means to touch the heart of the poor man's child! Now a hymn of little voices goes up the clear sky-best instrument of praise, "the mouths of babes and sucklings"-now a burst of light laughter-for the children of the poor can laugh and play, and be innocently amused; and who so ready to help the clergyman in all his endeavours to mend the daily life of his flock by all MEN must be more than wise and good, according to appeals to their gentler and better nature, than the the ordinary measure of reason and virtue, before they "squire" and his good lady? though they may not see can estimate morality by truth simply, justice abstractwhy some things which appear to them of little import-edly, or even religion irrespectively and unconditionally. ance are insisted upon, and some of their Own improvements not exactly approved of in their way. One, too, there is, a good and gentle form, helping in the wise and happy work,-loved by the weak, the young, the mournful, whose mild and cheerful way with the poor goes so far with them; whose bright presence in the poor man's cottage is always welcome-even the minister's wife. With the means near us and around us, of cheering and helping the labouring poor, both old and young, it is hard if we do not make some way in the matter to a better and kinder state of things.

In England we avoid a stranger for no other reason than because he is unknown to us, though in very many cases we have more reason to shun the society of those who are already known to us.

SELF-RESPECT is worth all the fame in the world.

IF wisdom is the head, and honesty the heart, energetic industry is the right hand of every exalted vocation; without which the shrewdest insight is blind and the

best intentions are abortive.

Printed and Published for the Proprietor, by JOHN OWEN CLARKE, (of No. 9, Hemingford Terrace, East, in the Parish of St. Mary, Islington, in the County of Middlesex) at his Printing Office, No. 3, Raquet Court, Fleet Street, in the Parish of St. Bride, in the City of London. Saturday, September 8, 1849.

No. 20.]

GOVERNESSES.

ANY one who casts his eyes over the advertising columns of a newspaper, must have observed the large number of young women applying to be engaged as teachers of youth in private families. The number of such applicants seems to go on steadily increasing, notwithstanding the acknowledged severe labours, and often painful trials, which the governess has to encounter in the performance of her duties. Yet do we find large numbers of these young persons eagerly offering themselves to teach French, Spanish, Italian, English, music, dancing, and other branches of modern female education, generally for the most slender pittances.

We fear that in this there is the evidence of something wrong in our social arrangements and management. Why should so many young women be eager to exchange the home and the family in which they have been brought up, for the household of the stranger, where they assume no higher position than that of a hired servant? In but too many cases the reason is sufficiently obvious-it is the hard necessity which exists, that they should labour for their daily bread. But there is another reason more cogent and prevalent than this,and it is, that to be a governess is held to be genteel; governessing being the only genteel profession open to young women who have received what is called "a fashionable education."

[PRICE 1d.

What is to be

useful and happy beings, they send them to fashionable
schools, where they are taught a set of flimsy accom-
plishments, which are of no manner of use in any moderate
station of life, or, indeed, in any station. But the end
arrives; the family means are exhausted in the effort to
be genteel; nothing has been saved as a provision for
the increasing wants of the growing children; the
daughters come home from school full of accomplish-
ments, which are found to be of no use.
done? The parents find that if gentility is to be kept
up, the daughters must do something to earn their own
subsistence. But how are they to be employed? They
dare not touch trade-they must not work with their
hands, say behind a counter, for that would be "un-
genteel." There remains only the profession of govern-
essing; and they advertise in the newspapers accordingly.
Hence the present enormous competition in this depart-
ment of female labour.

Now, we say all this with a deep sympathy for the position of the governess; but, at the same time, we cannot shut our eyes to the disgraceful social vanity to which so many young women are thus sacrificed; and it certainly is an evil which deserves becoming censure and exposure. A large proportion of the young women who go out as governesses, are such as ought, under more prudent and sensible parental management, to have remained within the precincts of the home and the family. That is the true sphere of every woman; and it is doing an outrage on her loving nature to divorce her from it. We can The canker of Gentility is one that has very much conceive no more unhappy fate for a girl than to be thus crept in amongst the middle classes of late years. There placed out as a governess. Consider her position. In the is a general straining after it; every one eagerly en- first place, she is introduced into a sphere where she is deavouring to gain a higher seat in the social arena than called upon to perform highly responsible functions, his neighbour; putting on appearances, and striving to requiring of her, if not high mental cultivation, at least look better than his means will often allow. Instead of numerous acquirements obtained at much cost and labour. being satisfied with their present station in life, and making But she has no well-defined place in the family she has the best of it,-instead of steadily and diligently labouring entered; she stands utterly isolated and alone in it; onward, living within the means, and being satisfied to treated as a kind of upper servant, though possessing all wait for the better fortune-men are ever fretting on the that delicate sensitiveness which shrinks at the appearance verge of something higher, struggling to assume a of harshness or uncivility; regarded often as but a better position and to keep up appearances, thus endeavouring bred sort of menial, though cherishing, perhaps, ideas of to take gentility by storm, and secure, by desperate gentility equal to the highest station; placed midway efforts, a position higher than the limits of their fortune between the drawing-room and the servants'-hall, yet will enable them to retain. The same false notions are permitted to be a denizen of neither; proud of her implanted in the minds of their children. Instead of respectability, and, it may be, no inconsiderable share of giving them a solid education, calculated to make them mental culture, yet obliged to succumb before vulgarity

and ignorance; stationed in the midst of society, yet alone in it; a being of warm social sympathies, yet unsympathized with and socially neglected; a gentlewoman, yet a hired servant; a lady, yet a drudge. How can her position be other than one of painful uncertainty and of harassing occupation, filled with loneliness, despondency, and sorrow?

Perhaps the Governess has been brought up in good society, and has acquired the refinement of manner and polish of conversation, which mere wealth cannot buy. Such an one, if forced by the adversities of her parents, by their failure in life, by their death, or any of the numerous casualties of our complicated social state, to take service in the family of some nouveau riche, will meet with a thousand things to wither her heart-to mortify and gall her. Who would not sympathize with such a woman, compelled, perhaps, to submit to the vulgarity and caprice of one as much her inferior in all the qualities of mind and person which constitute true worth, as she is their inferior in worldly fortune. She is liable to be reminded every moment that she is eating the bread of dependence, and may be thrust forth from the abode of luxury among unpitying strangers. On the other hand, should her parents be of a humble order, she may hear their calling ridiculed, their condition despised, until her mean origin becomes a thought almost too horrid to be entertained. Surely, it would be difficult to conceive a more painful position into which virtuous poverty could be thrust than this.

We know well enough, that in many families the governess is treated with due kindness and consideration: in every family, the head of which is a good-hearted and sensible woman, she will have that respect and deference paid to her to which she is entitled. But in any case, her position is not to be envied. She is not at home. Though treated with affability and kindness, she cannot help feeling the sense of loneliness. Her heart may fix itself in the family; but in the midst of her attachments, they are suddenly broken off; her services are no longer required, for the daughters are now educated; and she is again alone. Such a manner of life is calculated to destroy the qualities of the very best nature; and especially to sully the finest graces of the female character-to induce harshness, ill-temper, and hopeless despondency.

The too general want of regard for the position and responsibility of the governess, is indicated by the paltry remuneration which is usually paid for her services. It is generally below that of the cook and butler, and not above that of the housekeeper, footman, and lady's maid. Yet she has to train and educate young women-to develope and store their minds-at least to impart manners and accomplishments. This low rate of remuneration exhibits, in a melancholy light, the estimate entertained in this country of the qualifications of the Teacher. Take as a specimen an advertisement for a governess, which recently appeared in the Times :

"WANTED, in a gentleman's family, a Young Lady, as Nursery Governess, to instruct two young ladies in French, Music, and Singing, with the usual branches of Education, and to take the entire charge of their wardrobe. She must be of a social disposition, and fond of children, and have the manners of a gentlewoman, as she will be treated as one of the family. Salary, twelve guineas per annum."

crown all, the manners of a gentlewoman, implying the having been brought up in a refined, polished, and educated circle. And all this is considered to be worth only the paltry sum of "twelve guineas per annum!" We wonder how much the "gentleman" thus advertising paid for the services of the cook who ministered to the wants of his stomach, and to the butler who looked after his wine cellar?

The story is told of a lady who once wrote to her son to look out for such a person as the above-that is to say a young lady, all-accomplished, and with the disposition of an angel. He wrote back to her saying, that he had long been looking out for such a person, and that when he had found her, he should not recommend her as a governess for his sisters, but keep her as a wife for himself. And the young man was right; for, wives such as the governesses who are so often advertised for in the newspapers, are not very often to be met with.

Here is another advertisement, from the Evangelical Magazine, which shows the value set by some parties at the present day, upon female piety and education :

"WANTED, a young person of Decided Piety, about 22 years of age, to take the charge of, and educate three young children under twelve years. She must be capable of imparting a sound English education, with French and Music. Any one who would feel anxious for the welfare of the children will be treated as one of the family, and may realize the comforts of a home. Salary eight pounds per

annum."

And for this, and similar paltry sums, are many of our finest and most sensitive young girls, with hearts full of affection and kindness, taken from homes which they ought to bless and hallow by their presence, under the roofs of strangers, where their affections are blighted, their charms despoiled by care, labour, and anxiety, and from which they are too often thrust forth at last, the melancholy outcasts from love and sympathy that we so often find them. Alas, that we should say it-governesses constitute the largest class of tenants in our lunatic asylums!

One would scarcely imagine it possible that such an occupation, and on such terms, would present any attractions for young women of good education. Yet the crowds of advertisements in the daily papers furnish abundance of proof to the contrary. And it is the same in the country. A family in the neighbourhood of Leamington some time ago advertised for a governess, requesting applications to be addressed to certain initials, "Postoffice, Leamington," and no fewer than 107 letters were delivered to the advertiser on his first application for them at the Post-office.

Although the average qualifications of governesses are, on the whole, considerably better than their employers deserve, if we take into account the low rate of remuneration allowed them, they are still, it must be confessed, lamentably short of the qualities necessary for the instructors of youth. At best, a governess is a poor apology for a mother, who ought herself to be the chie educator of her children. But there are circumstances which render the employment of a governess necessary, and in such cases little or no regard is paid to her aptitude to teach, to her capacity of developing the moral nature of children-by far the most important part of female education,-to her general soundness and balance of mind and character, qualities which have an immense That is to say, for "twelve guineas per annum," there influence over the future happiness of the children subis required the ability to teach the French language,jected to her training. The main thing sought after, is music, singing, the usual branches of education- the inducation of acquirements, and the acquisition of acthat is, reading, writing, arithmetic, geography, grammar, complishments; and little or no pains are taken to and history; the ability to take charge of the wardrobe secure the culture of the heart and mind. If parents of two young ladies, which implies the art of dress- possessed any adequate knowledge themselves of the true making, the practice of a sempstress, and the habit of uses and value of education, and the qualities it demands order; a social disposition, which means amiability, in the instructor, the position and qualifications of the good address, powers of conversation, and a readiness to governess would be very different from what they now do anything to serve and oblige those about her; and, to are; but as they do not, there is every probability of the

ELIZA COOK'S JOURNAL.

present evils continuing in force until they do. The very lowness of the remuneration offered to the governess for her services, is of itself a guarantee for her incapacity. By the low salary offered, it seems as if predetermined that she shall want all the qualifications necessary, not merely for refined associations, but for the due exercise of her most important functions. It is true, she may promise; but will she, can she perform the services required of her? Is it possible that the qualities sought for the capacity to teach drawing, singing, instrumental music, two or three foreign languages, ornamental needlework, geography, and the use of the globes,-can be fairly obtained in the market at the price which is offered-of from ten to And even supposing such twenty-five pounds a-year? qualities are to be found, is it generous, is it honest, either to the instructress or the pupils, to remunerate such services at a rate below that paid to the footmen or lady's-maids of the family?

THE PARTING OF FRIENDS.

Or all the many sorrows that throw a deeper gloom over the care-strewn path of existence, there are none more disagreeably anticipated, or more acutely experienced, than that of parting with friends. Man is a creature made for society, and only when in the bosom of those who are dear to him, can he estimate truly the pleasures and drawbacks of existence: take him from them, and he becomes an animated stone, without a joy or care, for even the absence of mental agitation is ever filled by a gloom in his breast; the hope of meeting, indeed, speaks to his soul like a cheering voice springing from amidst a dreary wilderness, and fans the faint sparks of hope into the living fire of rapturous expectation.

It seems a tax upon our existence, that those hearts which are most feelingly sensible of the pleasures of the ments. To the heart of sensibility, there is, even in the world, should be doubly alive to its pains and disappointmidst of our gloom, a gleam of secret, though indescribable pleasure," a joy in grief," as the Scriptures eloquently When young, we fancy we feel express the emotion. much, and, perhaps, our sufferings are proportionate to While " touching this string," I cannot the degree of fortitude that Nature has granted us to forbear speaking of what are generally termed "school friendships." Boys form intimacies not like men, in consequence of some similarity in disposition, nor in admira

resist them.

We rejoice, in common with all those who desire to ameliorate the condition of the deserving classes of society, to perceive the efforts that are making to better the condition of the governess; to furnish her with better training in Normal Schools, to provide for her an annuity in her old age (which is the object of the Governesses Benevolent Institution), and to furnish her with a home in the Asylum for Aged Governesses, when no longer able to pursue her laborious and ill-remunerated vocation; but at the same time we must frankly confess, that how-tion of some quality which each discovers in the other; ever laudable we admit all such objects to be, so long as parents of the middle classes will persist in educating their daughters in the present flimsy style, and scramble at great cost, to reach and hold upper seats in the" genteel" world -so long as mothers will not take the pains to train and educate their children themselves, but prefer handing them over to the charge of ill-remunerated servants, the evil will continue, however much we may deplore it.

SATIRE.

WHILE the numerous crimes which are prevalent in political society are counteracted by severe laws and rigorous punishment, there is a species of minor offences, scarcely less destructive of the true interests of moral society, which are best repressed by ridicule; since it often happens, that men are shamed out of vices which philosophy has in vain admonished them to forsake. When the powers of ridicule are employed to correct the errors and expose the absurdities which prevail-generally amongst the unthinking, the profligate, and the vain,their application is essentially beneficial to society; but, when the flippant and insulting spirit of sarcasm is applied to depreciate and vilify individuals, the dignity of satire is debased, and its aim defeated. When the excess of reproach is used towards inadvertencies, and all the insolence of invective is exhausted on trifles, it is no longer satire, but scurrility. The true satirist, who lashes the depravity of fools, is to be distinguished from the scribbler that libels the infirmities of the wise.

When a chimney-sweeper rushes into the crowd, the by-standers instantly make way, not from motives of polite ceremony, but of personal cleanliness. To make a reformer of this cast there requires no further stock in trade than impudence. He may work very successfully for a time, with this tool alone; but the poverty of the manufacture will soon betray the meanness of the material. He may delight himself indeed with his own fancied importance. Like the chimney-sweeper, he may fancy himself a favoured son of Harmony, while he is only footing it, with merry heel, to the music of his own shovel and brush.

they do it as a matter of course; and when the rehearsal

actors, who have their parts to play, shake hands, and
How
of youth is over, they meet on the stage of life as two
make studied speeches, and then exeunt omnes.
different these feelings are to those exquisite delights
which dwell in the bosoms of those on whom the lamp of
perienced? On parting at leaving school, a tear may be
friendship sheds its vivifying light, who has not ex-
shed, and the hand of your companion clasped in your
own; but as soon as the vehicle approaches, all thoughts
of him fly, and you take your seat within, in rapturous
expectation of the friends and relatives that you are
preparing to meet, or the world you are preparing to
enter. But when the hour of separation arrives, when
the dismal hand of Fate separates you from the being you
love, the object becomes more tenderly entwined around
your sinking soul, like that emblem of desolation, the
ivy, which clings fonder to the ruin it has embraced, when
it views it hastening into decay. The hand is still locked
in yours, and, when you have wrung it, the consciousness
that the pressure that still tingles in your veins may be
never again felt-that, as you release it from your own,
it may be for ever,-suggests itself in sad and melancholy
foreboding; till Hope, cheering Hope, smiling like an
angel of light, illuminating the dark clouds of sorrow,
seems to lift up the veil of futurity from your eyes, and
the object of your affections once more is before you, as
tender and sincere as the moment you now part with him;
and, ere he steps into the vessel that bears him from
your sight, you behold him returning, accompanied with
wealth, honour, and the best gifts that the sincerity of
your heart can desire for his prosperity.

These reflections were in a great measure occasioned by meeting an old school-fellow in a packet, which was to convey him to the vessel wherein he was to voyage for a "far distant land." Frank and I had been schoolfellows; had read out of the same story-book, were always partners in every game and every walk, loved the same church-yard and river-side; in fact, we were cronies in every school-boy's sense of the word. On leaving school, a little concern was manifested on both sides; we were each going to strange places, where we should meet with strange faces, and seek new friends: of course, we promised to write to each other by every post, and as the chaises turned their wheels in an opposite direction,