fellowship of mind-the society of his cotemporary runners in the race of fame, who have held with him a stern companionship-and frequently, in his passionate love, he will break away from the arena of his burning ambition, to come and listen to the "voice of the charmer." It will bewilder him at first, but it will not long; and then, think you that an idle blandishment will chain the mind that has been used, for years, to an equal communion? Think you he will give up, for a weak dalliance, the animating themes of men, and the search into the fine mysteries of knowledge!-Oh! no, lady!-believe me-no! Trust not your influence to such light fetters! Credit not the old-fashioned absurdity that woman's is a secondary lot-ministering to the necessities of her lord and master! It is a higher destiny I would award you. If your immortality is as complete, and your gift of mind as capable as ours of increase and elevation, I would put no wisdom of mine against God's evident allotment. I would charge you to water the undying bud, and give it healthy culture, and open its beauty to the sun---and then you may hope, that when your life is bound up with another, you will go on equally, and in a fellowship that shall pervade every earthly interest!

SCENES IN WASHINGTON.

It was on a fine, mild, sunshiny morning in December, while the Congress of 18- was in session, when the Hon. Mr. Moreton was taking his breakfast, at his quarters in a fashionable boarding house, and reading in the Intelligencer a speech made by himself two days before, on his favourite subject, "internal improvement," that my story begins. Mr. Moreton was a gentleman, distinguished alike for his graceful and flowing eloquence, in public, and his courteous bearing towards his constituents and fellow citizens, in the private intercourse of life. I dare add no more, than that he was a little stately, without pomposity; a little precise and oratorical in conversation, without being pedantic or fantastic. He is dead ---and the picture would be too easily recognized, were I to go further. I will not profane his

memory, in a sketch in which I must necessarily bring him into contact with somewhat grotesque though real characters. I have, in the course of accidental intercourse with him, abroad and at home, witnessed in his company much of what was naturally and morally striking

"Have climbed with him the Alpine snow,
Have heard the cannon as they rolled
Along the silver Po;"

and rarely have I seen his dignified equanimity of mind, or the somewhat formal tenor of his discourse, ruffled or interrupted by the circumstances of the moment. I leave it to his interesting nephew, who is, as I understand, preparing his biography, to do that justice to his memory which the well-known talents of the writer authorize the

friends of Mr. Moreton to expect. But I am constrained to introduce this gentleman, in relating some anecdotes perhaps scarce worth preserving, homely, but too true to make a joke of.

I chuse to tell all my stories, for what they are worth, in my own way; and should not have embarrassed this sketch with an apology, if personal feeling had not dictated one.

Mr. Moreton was at breakfast, as I have stated, when a black servant announced that a gentleman in the parlour below was waiting to see him.

Occupied with the happy folio of four pages, wherein Messrs. Gales and Seaton had done full justice to Mr. Moreton in a reported speech occupying three out of the four aforesaid crowded pages, and not having yet tasted his coffee, the call seemed unseasonable. But supposing it was made by one of his constituents, to all whose suggestions he conscientiously gave ear, or by some person of scientific ability, who had new ideas on his favourite subject, rail-roads, he left the breakfast table to attend upon his visitor.

As he entered the parlour below, he encountered a gentleman in black clothes, somewhat rusty, with white cotton stockings, yellow shoes, and a blue cravat; who came rapidly up to him, with a letter in his hand, talking, as rapidly, in a pert and sharp tone. He was in stature rather under the ordinary size, small across the shoulders, and feeble looking in body, though his complexion was fair and sanguineous. It was no hectic flush; and yet a recruiting sergeant would have hardly reported him as an able-bodied man.

"Permit me, sir," he said, "to present to you this letter"—a queer-looking document, devoid of rectangular proportions, and travel-strained from long wearing in the pocket-" which makes known to each other, mutually and reciprocally, the Reverend Hercules Firkins, of Little Babylon, and

the Honourable and eloquent Mr. Moreton, of the house of representatives—

'Arcades ambo,

Et cantare pares, et respondere parati—'

which Dryden, as you know, somewhat tamely renders.

'Arcadians both, and both alike inspired,

To sing and answer, as the song required.'

Of this passage, by the bye, neither the great Heyne, nor the American editor of Virgil, the Reverend Job Cooper, seem to me to have understood the naked and eutonic, I might add the diatonic and catatonic force. But, "non cuivis adigit adire Corinthum;" a proverb, which, though usually quoted in Latin, belongs in fact to a Greek author, whom I rate as high for classic sense, as I do Lord Coke for legal acumen :-for though now an ecclesiastic, I was once a member of the bar myself, as you will see-but I beg pardon-by the letter which I interrupt you in reading. A very clever man indeed is Mr. Jinks, the writer of it. I raised him, as they say in Kentucky. I brought it for form's sake. He is one of my deacons."

The Honourable Mr. Moreton gravely requested his voluble guest to be seated; and read, not