indulgent, injudicious training, and the atmosphere of adulation, in which her beauty and her father's wealth had caused her to be encircled, had taught her none of the lessons of endurance and self-control. Accustomed to the homage and devoted attentions of crowds of admirers, she could not conceal the pique and mortification, which her husband's gradual estrangement produced in her. Though her affections were not wounded, her vanity and self-esteem were. She had that petty love of power, which so often is found in feeble characters, and took vengeance upon him for his coldness and indifference, by teasing his sensitive and fastidious nature, thwarting his reasonable wishes, rebelling against his authority, and kindling his jealousy, a passion to which his nature somewhat inclined him.

His condition became only the more unhappy from the presence of those elements in his lot, which, to a superficial observer, made it so enviable. The leisure which his fortune allowed him, permitted him to brood the more uninterruptedly over his disappointment, and to torment himself with useless, and worse than useless regrets and self-reproaches. The daily drudgery of a profession would have been a relief to him, by diverting his thoughts from their accustomed channels, and would have furnished both food and medicine to his diseased mind. As it was, he became tyrannized over by one wasting thought. In vain did he have recourse to his books for entertainment, for it seemed to him that, by some strange fatality, he was perpetually stumbling upon something which reminded him of his own trial. Besides, reading is a resource in pains of the body, but it does not take strong hold enough to make us

forget those of the mind. He wanted the stoical element, which tramples circumstances under foot, and forges an armour of stern indifference, upon which all the "slings and arrows of outrageous fortune " fall harmless. Nor had he the religious principle, which hopes all things, endures all things, and from pain and sorrow extracts the elements of spiritual growth. His nature had neither depth nor strength, but was essentially superficial and epicurean. He was formed for enjoyment, and not for action; for the sunshine and the calm, and not for the night and the storm. Trial and disappointment did not soften or elevate him, but made him fretful and irritable. His literary cultivation had the same characteristics. It was various, but not profound. He could appreciate the creations of genius, but had not the creative energy himself. He was fond of reading, but had not the resolution to pursue a vigorous course of study. He could not shut himself up in his library, and comfort himself by writing a poem or a book. His mind was not its own place.

The restless despair in which he finally found himself, he had approached by degrees. Between him and his wife, the outward proprieties and courtesies of life had been hitherto maintained. Good taste and good breeding had restrained him from any other expression of his feelings, than could be read in his silence, his altered countenance, and his clouded brow. But this was a state of things not likely to continue with so irritable a temperament as his, and with so much recklessness and so little dignity of character, as belonged to her. On one particular evening, under the pressure of some peculiar provocation, the long-repressed torrent of feeling

burst out into language. His smothered passions found a vent in those bitter, burning words, which are never forgotten or forgiven, and which at once put a gulf of separation between them, which neither in time nor eternity could be closed. He vehemently reproached her for her insensibility, her unreasonableness, her selfishness, her cruel indifference to his tastes, sympathies, and wishes. He poured out, in his wrath, all the tempest, which had long been gathering in his breast, and which now raged with the more fury, from its having been so long pent up. All that a more prudent nature would have left unsaid, that a colder one would not have felt, that a higher one would have subdued - all the storm of contending passions which had desolated his heart—all his blighted hopes, his starved affections, his shattered expectations, his vanished dreams - found a tongue and an utterance in those hot words of invective, reproach, and remonstrance, which scalded as they fell. And she-the star that had so fallen from his heaven, the idol that had been cast down from his altar-she, that had lacerated the heart that she should have filled with a happiness, which the earth seemed too narrow to contain — with what spirit and in what mood did she listen to him? Not with tears of hopeless anguish and convulsive sobs of wretchedness, for these would have betokened a sensibility, of which she had not the slightest portion, and would have flowed from a heart, broken with the stunning consciousness, that she was nothing to him who was every thing to her -nor yet with sparkling rage and vehement recrimination, for not even the breath of passion could wake into life the cold and stagnant surface of a soul

like hers - but with sullen indifference, with freezing apathy, with rigid unconcern, and with that cold, contemptuous silence, which provokes an impatient temper more than the angriest rejoinder or the most cutting retort.

And this was the scene, of which the student was a momentary witness, and these were the persons, upon whom his passing glance had fallen, and such was the condition of the possessor of that wealth, elegance, and comfort, whose lot he had thought so enviable. Despair and indignation were lending their force and expression to that attitude, and those gestures, which he had interpreted to be the signs of fond affection and overflowing confidence. Could he have known all, how would he have recoiled with horror at the prospect of being placed in the position of the unhappy master of that beautiful mansion! What would all the means and appliances of wealth have availed the mind, which saw its own gloom and desolation reflected from every object, and painted upon every scene? and how gladly would the latter have exchanged his gilded misery for the student's poverty, which was rich in energies, in hopes, in the power of enjoyment, and the assurance of success! What were all his elegancies and luxuries, his pictures, his costly furniture, his delicate living, to the possession of a healthy, vigorous, and expanding mind, that fed upon truth and knowledge as its daily bread, and of a heart that saw the whole earth encircled with the light of its own joyous hopes and healthy aspirations?

The student had paused but for a moment before the house, and cast but a single look into the room. He immediately passed on with a slight murmur of self

reproach, and soon had forgotten the scene, and the emotion it had awakened. We have no purpose of tracing further the fates and fortunes of these two young men. Their paths had crossed each other for a moment, and then diverged. But the lesson of that moment is all that we have to teach. And this lesson we would commend to all who are disposed to think less of all the blue sky that bends over them, than of the single dark cloud that throws its shadow upon their path; who, in the splendour of Aladdin's palace, sigh for the roc's egg, which alone is denied to them, and cannot enjoy an essentially happy lot, on account of some real or fancied "Mordecai in the gate." Young men, especially of sensitive organization and delicate intellectual structure, we would caution against the fatal habit of concentrating their attention upon the painful elements in their position, and of supposing that there is something peculiarly hard in their lot, and that no one's sorrow is like theirs. Grief and trouble are the heir-looms of humanity. Your neighbour's crosses may be less heavy than yours, but if they are so to him, they are so essentially. There is no objective standard of comparison. As a man thinks, so is it. All are troubled; but no one is hopelessly so. God has afflicted all his children; but from none has he hidden his face. The best medicine for a diseased mind is vigorous action. What is done is of comparatively little importance, so that something be done. Sweeping of streets is better than idle wringing of hands. Mourn not over the irretrievable past, but crowd the present moment with manly and efficient effort, and peace shall dwell in your heart, though happiness shine not upon your path.