Grim. That fellow is perpetually making just such provoking blunders ! Cousin. And do you never make provoking blunders? Did n't you send me five pounds of Hyson tea, when I wrote for Souchong?* Did n't you send a carriage for me to the cars half an hour too late, so that I had to hire one myself, after great trouble? And did I roar at you, when we met, because you had done these things? Grim. On the contrary, this is the first time you have alluded to them. I am sorry they should have happened. But surely you should make a distinction between any such little oversight of mine and the stupidity of a servant, hired to attend to your orders. Cousin. I do not admit that there should be a distinction. You are both human; only, as you have had the better education, and the greater advantages, stupidity or neglect on your part is much the more culpable. Grim. Thank you! Go on. Cousin. I mean to; so don't be impatient. If an uncooked potato, or a burnt mutton-chop, happens to fall to your lot at the dinner-table, what a tempest follows! One would think you had been wronged, insulted, trampled on, driven to despair. Your face is like a thunder-cloud, all the rest of the meal. Your poor wife endeavors to hide her tears. Your children feel timid and miserable. Your guest feels as if she would like to see you held under the nose of the pump, and thoroughly ducked. Grim. The carriage is waiting for you, Miss Somerville, and the driver has put on your baggage. Cousin. I have hired that carriage by the hour, and so am in no hurry. Your excuse for your irritability will be, I suppose, that it is constitutional, and not to be controlled. A selfish, paltry, miserable excuse! I have turned down a leaf in Dr. Johnson's works, and will read what he says in regard to tempers like yours. Grim. You are always quoting Dr. Johnson! Cousin. I cannot endure it! Dr. Johnson is a bore! * See Exercises under the eleventh elementary sound, page 37. Cousin. O, yes! to evil-doers, but to none else. Hear him: "There is in the world a class of mortals known, and contentedly known, by the appellation of passionate men, who imagine themselves entitled, by this distinction, to be provoked on every slight occasion, and to vent their rage in vehement and fierce vociferations, in furious menaces, and licentious reproaches." Grim. That will do. Cousin. Men of this kind, he tells us, are often pitied rather than censured, and are not treated with the severity which their neglect of the ease of all about them might justly provoke. But he adds: “It is surely not to be observed without indignation, that men may be found of minds mean enough to be satisfied with this treatment; wretches who are proud to obtain the privilege of madmen, and —————” Grim. I will hear no more! Have done! Cousin. So the shaft went home! I am not sorry. Grim. No one but a meddlesome old maid would think of insulting a man in his own house! Cousin. So, when at a loss for a vindication, you reproach me with being an old maid! Cousin, it does not distress me either to be an old maid, or to be called one. I must, however, remark that the manhood that can charge against a woman her single state, either as a matter of ridicule or reproach, is not quite up to my standard. Grim. Cousin Mary, I ask your pardon! But am I indeed the petulant, disagreeable fellow, you would make me out? Cousin. My dear Caspar, you are generous enough in large things; but, O! consider that trifles make up a good portion of the sum of life; and so "a small unkindness is a great offence." Why not be cheerful, sunny, genial, in little things? Why not look on the bright side? why not present an unruf fled front to petty annoyances? why not labor-ay, labor to have those around you happy and contented, by reflecting from yourself such a frame of mind upon them? Life is short, at the best; why not make it cheerful? Do you know that longevity is promoted by a tranquil, happy habit of thought and temper? Do you know that cheerfulness, like mercy, is twice blessed; blessing "him that gives, and him that takes"? Do you know that good manners, as well as good sense, demand that we should look at objects on their bright side? Do you know that it is contemptible selfishness in you to shed gloom and sorrow over a whole family by your moroseness and ill-humor? Grim. Cousin Mary, the patience with which I have listened to your cutting remarks will prove to you, I hope, that, notwithstanding my angry retorts, I am afraid there is much truth in what you have said of me. I have a favor to ask. Send away your carriage; stay a week longer- a month. a year, if you will. Hold the lash over this ugly temper of mine and I give you my word that I will set about the cure of it in earnest. Cousin. You should have begun earlier — in youth, when the temper is pliable, and strong impressions can work great changes. But we will not despair. I will tarry with you a while, just to see if you are serious in your wish for a reformation, and to help you bring it about. Grim. Thank you. We hear of reformed drunkards, and reformed thieves; and why may not a petulant temper be reformed, by a system of total abstinence from all harsh, unkind moods and expressions? Come, we will try. Osborne. General Nathaniel Woodhull was born at Mastic, Long Island, in 1722, and was engaged in several gallant actions during the war of the American Revolution. At the time of the invasion of Long Island by the royal forces, in 1776, he was overtaken at Jamaica, with two or three companions, by a detachment of the seventeenth regiment of British dragoons, and the seventy-first regiment of infantry. He gave up his sword, in token of surrender; but the subordinate officer, who first approached, ordered him to say, "God save the king! This Woodhull refused to do; for which the officer struck him severely over the head with his sword; and of the effects of the wound Woodhull died. 1. "T WAS when Long Island's heights beheld the king's invading horde, That, by out-numbering foes compelled, our chief gave up his sword. Then spoke the victor: "Now from me no mercy shall you wring, 2. "But far from me the wish that ill your monarch should befall ; So freely, and with right good will, I'll say, God save us all!" Shouted 192 the foeman, "Paltering slave! repeat, without delay, God save the king,' nor longer brave the fury that can slay!" But Woodhull said, “Unarmed I hear; yet threats cannot appall ! Ne'er passed these lips the breath of fear, and so God save us all." 8. "Then, rebel,88 rue thy stubborn will," the ruffian victor cried; "This weapon shall my threat fulfil; so perish in thy pride!" Rapid as thought the murderous blow fell on the prisoner's head; With warrior rage he scanned his foe, then, staggering, sank and bled. But anger vanished with his fall; his heart the wrong forgave " Dying, he sighed, " God save you all, and me, a sinner, save!" LXXI. A PLEASANT SURPRISE. 1. A YOUNG man of eighteen or twenty, a student in a university, took a walk one day with a professor, who was commonly called the student's friend, such was his kindness to the young men it was his office to instruct. While they were walking together, and the professor was seeking to lead the conversation to grave subjects, they saw a pair of old shoes lying in their path, which they supposed to belong to a poor man who was at work close by, and who had nearly finished his day's task. 2. The young student turned to the professor, saying, "Let us play the man a trick; we will hide his shoes, and conceal ourselves behind those bushes, and watch his perplexity when he cannot find them." 66 · My dear friend," answered the professor, "we must never amuse ourselves at the expense of the poor. But you are rich, and you may give yourself a much greater pleasure by means of this poor man. Put a dollar into each shoe, and then we will hide ourselves." 3. The student did so, and then placed himself, with the professor, behind the bushes close by, through which they could easily watch the laborer, and see whatever wonder or joy he might express. The poor man had soon finished his work, and came across the field to the path, where he had left his coat and shoes. While he put on the coat, he slipped one foot into one of his shoes; but, feeling something hard, he stooped down and found the dollar. Astonishment and wonder were seen upon his countenance. He gazed upon the dollar, turned it around, and looked again and again; then he looked around him on all sides, but could see no one. 4. Now he put the money in his pocket, and proceeded to put on the other shoe; but how great his surprise when he found the other dollar! His feelings overcame him; he saw that the money was a present; and he fell upon his knees, looked up to heaven, and uttered aloud a fervent thanksgiving, in which he spoke of his wife sick and helpless, and his children without bread, whom this timely bounty from some unknown hand would save from perishing. 5. The young man stood there deeply affected, and tears filled his eyes. 66 'Now," said the professor, "are you not much better pleased than if you had played your intended trick?". dearest sir," answered the youth, "you have taught me a lesson now that I will never forget! I feel now the truth of the words, which I never before understood, 'It is better to give than to receive.' We should never approach the poor but with the wish to do them good." FROM THE GERMAN. LXXII. FALSEHOODS OF EXAGGERATION. 1. BESIDES the falschoods which people designedly speak, there is a kind which springs from negligence, hastiness, or a warm imagination. Dr. Samuel Johnson was of opinion that most lying arises from indifference about the truth, rather than from a wish to deceive. People are not sufficiently anxious to be correct; they say anything that comes uppermost, or what they think will please, without reflecting whether it be strictly true or not. It is a common error of tradesmen, from a desire to please, or worse reasons, to promise to have work done at a par |