leathers and the necessary wherewithal to eat, drink, and be merry, but having reached the topmost wave of fashion, the swell at length subsides and leaves him penniless deserted by friends, an airy nothing on the shores of time.

There are but few other things to be mentioned, amongst them are the pause. Paws are something to hold on with. When a note is to be prolonged the character designating a pause is placed over it, as if you were to say to an intelligent canine "here is something bone," (bon, as the French say,) he would immediately pause and put his paws on it.

Then, too, there is a "tie," by which several notes are joined together under one sound, just like the matrimonial tie which unites two persons of different names and natures into one, and they twain become one flesh. Thus in practicing the seventh and fourth notes tied together, you will soon be able to see far, (si, fa,) into music; in the use of the seventh and third you will be able to see me, (si, mi,) without a telescope or a light, though I may be a thou

sand miles off and darkness all around you. This is a result which philosophers have not before discovered.

Then again the term forte, which means strong or loud, is much used in singing. A piece may be sung too forte, when sung so loud as to put the performer out of breath, just as a very rapid horse is said to go at a two-forty pace when he comes up to the stand all panting with the unwonted exercise, having done his mile in less than three minutes.

This ends our course. I thank you for your attention, and as we have wound up our lessons in music you may run down until a new spring comes. Don't get in the dirt, but keep your hands and face clean, and let your works too, be made

manifest.

A HIDEOUS MONSTER. HERE exists in French society, remarks

THE

the author of Monte Leone, and we may add that it is by no means limited to French society, a hideous monster known to all, though no one disturbs it. Its ravages are great, almost incalculable. It saps reputations, poisons, dishonors and defiles the splendor of the most estimable form.

This minotaurus, which devours so many innocent persons, is especially fearful, because the blows are terrible. It presents itself under the mildest and gentlest forms, and is received everywhere in the city. We find it in our rooms, in the interior of our families, in the palaces of the opulent, and the garrets of the poor. It has no name, being a mere figure of speech, a very word. It is composed of but one phrase, and is called-THEY SAY.

"Do you know such a one?" is often asked, and the person is pointed out. "No; but they say his morals are very bad. He has had strange adventures and his family is very unhappy." "Are you sure?"

"No, I know nothing about it. But they say so."

"Do not trust that gentleman who has such credit, and is thought so rich. Be on your guard-"

"Bah! his fortune is immense; see what an establishment he has."

"Yes! But they say he is very much involved."

"Do you know that fact?"

This they say is heard in every relation of life. It is deadly mortal, and not to be grasped. It goes hither and thither, strikes and kills manly honor, female virtue, without either sex being ever conscious of the injury done. Each as he reads these lines will remember cases illustrating the truth of what we say.

ENTIRE APPLICATION.-Little can be done well to which the whole mind is not applied.

with a view of the Forum at Rome as it would appear if restored to its ancient state. The term FORUM among the Romans was used to signify any open place where the market and courts of justice were held. The Forum Romanum was a splendid place, which served for a public walk, and was called on account of its size, forum magnum. As the population of Rome increased, various spots were selected for markets and the courts of justice. The number of these places was finally increased to seventeen. The great Roman forum which was bounded on the north by Mount Palatine, and on the northwest by the Capitoline Hill, and which was called The Forum by way of eminence, was destined by Romulus for the assemblies of the people. Tarquinius Priscus surrounded it with porticos, by which means the people were protected against the weather. In these buildings, stagings were raised, from which plays represented in the market place were seen, before the erection of theatres.

necessary to remove many of them.

This place, once adorned with the most beautiful palaces, and the most splendid buildings is now called campo vaccino, (field of cattle.) It is almost a waste, but is yet covered with numerous relics of its former splendor.

thus," replied the widow with a calm firmness; "as for me, the thought that I efface, slowly, but surely, the last stain that can rest on the memory of my husband, is the first and the greatest of comforts. M. Miner is the only one of his creditors whose account is not settled; and if it please God, it shall be paid to the last crown."

"Heroic sentiments !" cried the kinswoman with irony, going out of the chamber.

"I have it! I have it finally!" cried a silvery voice; and at the same time a sweet figure, brilliant with youth and joy, came to throw herself at the knees of the widow seated in her easy chair, and to dissipate the sombre cloud of sadness that oppressed her heart.

"See, mamma, ten crowns! they are mine, all mine! With the ten others it makes twenty, a pretty little sum to give to M. Miner!"

Great tears trembled on the eyelids of the widow, and ran down her pale cheek. But at the same moment a melancholy thought froze her heart. "Shall this be therefore the price of thy life, oh my precious child?" thought she to herself. "Shall this be the worm that shall eat the heart of my beautiful flower? Must I therefore deliver thee to this overwhelming toil? Shalt thou be the victim laid on the altar of duty? My God! my God! dost thou require of me this sacrifice?"

Eva was kneeling before her mother, supporting herself on her with the closeness of a tender, filial love. After having contemplated some moments the brilliant pieces of gold, she lifted her eyes to the face of her mother and saw anguish and sorrow contracting her features.

"Do not be so grave, mamma. See, I was thinking with comfort of all that we should be able to buy with that money. How fine it will be? A good warm room for you; a pretty velvet cover for your old easy chair all worn out now, a little piece of carpet near your bed that your feet do not freeze on the cold floor; a new bonnet, and then some coal, some tea, some sugar

and a quantity of little comfortable things. But it is fair," added she, rising and throwing back the beautiful brown curls that covered her forehead, "it is fair, perhaps, that one of these days I shall write a book that will render us rich; you shall have your carriage, dear mamma, and those who despise us because of our poverty, shall then be very happy if we pay them attention. But no pleasantry and no romance," she said gravely, "inexorable reality says to me that I ought to go directly to Madison Street, see M. Miner, give him these twenty crowns, take a receipt and return to read and sing to my dear mother."

And now Eva was going with a light step through the long, straight streets that conducted her to a place resplendent with magnificent palaces. Everywhere the marble of those opulent dwellings reflected the sun's rays. The timid steps of the young girl pressed on a large balustrade and crossed a portal of rich architecture.

"Monsieur does not receive," said a servant richly clothed, throwing a patronizing look on the young girl. But soon sweetened perhaps by her air of infantile simplicity, won by her supplicant looks, he felt no strength to send her away. She was therefore admitted into the sumptuous dwelling of the rich man.

She set her foot lightly on the soft carpet of the anti-chamber. The staircase was ornamented with statues of marble and of bronze; and the saloon into which Eva was introduced, appeared to the young girl of so dazzling a luxury, that she was not able to persuade herself that such apartments could be inhabited.

To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Mademoiselle?" said, with an affable tone, the master of the house, who came to see her. M. Miner was a large, handsome man, in the flower of his age; his manners so full of distinction, had at first intimidated the young girl, who was a little reassured by the benevolent tone of his question.

"My father is dead, Monsieur, leaving us debts du⚫ your house," responded Eva,

blushing, with a trembling voice. "By means of economy and of labor, we have paid, my mother and myself, all these debts except yours. If you will have the goodness to receive the whole of your account by little sums, (I regret that they have to be so little, Monsieur,) we hope that in a few years we shall be able to pay you entirely; and we shall realize the wish of my dying father not to have wronged any person. My father," added she after a moment of silence, and in a voice trembling with emotion at the recollection; "my father has been so unfortunate! With health broken down during many years, he was so conscientious, that, if God had preserved him, he would have paid the last penny. He would sooner have reduced himself and his family to beggary, than to endure the idea of making one of those lose who had reposed confidence in him."

M. Miner remained seated with a pensive air, his eyes fixed on the childish figure that he had before him. After a moment of silence he arose, saying

"I knew M., your father-I regretted his death. His was a noble heart, a noble heart," added he, stopping to think at the remembrance. "But, my dear child, have you the means? do you not put yourself to pain to make these payments ?"

"It compels me to work, Monsieur," responding Eva, blushing slightly, "but no labor is painful when I think of my father, such a father, whose memory we wish to save from dishonor."

Eva pronounced these last words with a tearful voice. The rich man turned aside an instant to conceal from Eva his own emotion. Eva timidly advanced her hand to give her pieces of gold; M. Miner received them and went out hastily from the chamber, praying Eva to sit down a mo

ment.

He reappeared soon, giving Eva a sealed billet. "Behold the receipt," said he to her.

"And permit me to add that the mother of such a child ought to be very happy. All the debt of M., your father, that I find in my books, amounts to 5,000

francs. You will see in this billet the arrangements that I have made for the payment. I hope that madame, your mother, will be satisfied."

Eva took leave, her heart lighter than when she entered, and her cheeks a little burning because of the praise she had heard. M. Miner had spoken in a tone so sweet, so paternal, that he is not capable, thought she, of making conditions too hard, and there will be pleasure in paying a creditor so good and so patient.

With the rapidity of the hind, the young girl regained her dwelling; and at the knees of her mother, panting, such was her impatience to know all, she opened the letter. O marvelous! It contained a bank-note that the child held up with the end of her fingers, and showed to her mother, without saying a word, and without even thinking to assure herself what was its value.

"Two hundred and fifty francs!" cried she finally. "What does that say? Read the letter, mamma, read the letter."

"It is a receipt in full," responded the widow, melting into tears. "O, my child, the debt of your father exists no more! Excellent man, generous man! May God, pour on him the treasures of grace and of blessing! From the bottom of a heart always moved with gratitude, while I breathe I will ask of my heavenly Father to bless him and his family. Lord! may he be one day among the number of those that shall be received into the eternal tabernacles. But as for us, what shall we say to him? how shall we testify to him our gratitude?"

"Mamma," said Eva, smiling through her tears of joy, "I have felt that he was an angel of goodness. O, they do wrong who say that all the rich have a hard heart. Mamma, is it possible that we can be so rich? and no more debts weighing on the memory of my father! Let us love and venerate this generous benefactor!"

66

'He has drawn two hearts to him forever," murmured the poor widow, wiping her eyes.

"My dream is accomplished, mammawe shall have coal, a good fire, some tea, sugar, carpet, a little luxury for you, and, with time, some books for me."

The evening of that day, a good fire shining on the hearth, gave to that little chamber an air of frugal comfort. Eva, seated near the live coal that illumined her pure forehead, meditated a touching letter of thanks for the excellent M. Miner. The more

the weight of her inquietude, was illumined by a placid smile, and each thought of her heart was a prayer for the rich man.

In a saloon very different from the dwelling of the widow, a fire sparkled also this evening in the chimney, and reflected itself all around in the polish of rich furniture. The noble M. Miner was seated near the fire, surrounded by his family.

'Papa, what is it that gives you such a happy air to-day?" demanded a fine young girl, passing her little white hand in the thick brown hair of her father.

"Does that mean that I have not always a happy air, my little Lina?"

"No, but to-day I saw you smile with your eyes almost shut," and the radiant face of the child seemed a reflection of that of her father. "I think that something very agreeable has happened to you to-day. What was it?"

"Dost thou desire very much to know what renders thy father happy? Behold my Bible, open at the twentieth chapter of the Book of Acts, read attentively the thirty-fifth verse."

The child opened reverently the holy book, and after having again consulted her father in regard to it, she reads, "Remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how he said, It is more blessed to give than to receive."

"Ah! I comprehend," said the child, laying her red cheek on the hand of her father, "you have given alms to some poor mendicant, as you did last week, and he

a peasant of German extraction, with a large family. Dobry-so he was calledhad to put up with many privations; but he and his family were happy and contented, for they enjoyed health and peace under their thatched roof. This peace the good people drew from the word of God. It is true Dobry had nothing left after paying taxes to the government, and providing the bare necessaries of life, and to enable him to do this the harvest must have been good, he must have sold a pair of oxen, and disposed of his horses at a fair price. But his father and grand-father had done the same before him, and Dobry had a contented mind, and could rejoice where others would have murmured. Domestic peace was a rich compensation to him for many privations.

There belonged to his family a particular guest, whose arrival was always eagerly looked for with the first fall of snow. It was an old raven, which Dobry's grandfather had taken from the nest, tamed, and afterwards restored to liberty. The bird had preserved such an attachment for this house, that when there was nothing more to be found out-of-doors, it took up its winter quarters there. There were all sorts of things for his beak, scraps from the kitchen, crumbs, the remains of vegetables, and bones from which he picked many a dainty bit. He allowed his friends to stroke and caress him, and always flew into the room the moment the door or window was opened. He then walked about as ravens do, gravely and solemnly over the tables and benches, and sometimes perched himself upon heads and shoulders.