a false part in the theatre of real life, as well as on the mimic stage, and no one who beheld the superb beauty of the richly-dressed Countess de Beaneau, adorning the gay circles of Paris, would have suspected that the worm of discontent was gnawing at her heart. But the jealousy of her decrepid old husband embittered all her splendours. A youth of romantic excitement-a middle age of fashionable frivolity--an old age of superstitious austerity-such was the fate of the beautiful Josephine. Always in extremes, because always under the influence of an ungoverned imagination, her life is like an active proverb, and the curtain falls while we are still gazing on the withered crone, sitting in her high backed chair, mumbling with reluctant lips her long-neglected missal, and sometimes muttering with bitter sneer as she revives past scenes, "Le jeu ne vaut pas la chandelle." ORIGINAL LETTERS OF WASHINGTON AND FRANKLIN. THE old-fashioned courtesy and sterling beauty of the following correspondence, so characteristic of the men of the old school, will commend it to the admiration of our readers: DR. FRANKLIN'S LETTER. Philadelphia, 16th Sept. 1789. "Dear Sir:-My malady renders my sitting up to write rather painful to me; but I cannot let my son-in-law, Mr. Bache, part for New York, without congratulating you by him on the recovery of your health so precious to us all; and on the growing strength of our new government under your administration. For my own personal ease, I should have died two years ago; but, though those years have been spent in excruciating pain, I am pleased that I have lived them, since they have brought me to my present situation. I am now finishing my eighty-fourth year, and probably with it my career in this life; but in whatever state of existence I am placed hereafter, if I retain my memory of what has passed here, I shall with it retain the esteem, respect, and affection, with which I have long been, my dear friend, Yours, most sincerely, "B. FRANKLIN." To BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. "New York, 23rd Sept. 1789. "Dear Sir:-The affectionate congratulations on the recovery of my health, and the warm expressions of personal friendship, which were contained in your letter of the 16th instant, claim my gratitude. And the consideration, that it was written when you were afflicted with a painful malady, greatly increases my obligations for it. "Would to God, my dear Sir, that I could congratulate you upon the removal of that excruciating pain, under which you labour, and that your existence might close with as much ease to yourself, as its continuance has been beneficial to our country, and use. ful to mankind; or, if the united wishes of a free people, joined with the earnest prayers of every friend to science and humanity, could relieve the body from pains or infirmities, that you could claim an exemption on this score. But this cannot be, and you have within yourself the only resource to which we can confidently apply for relief, a philosophic mind. "If to be venerated for benevolence, if to be admired for talents, if to be esteemed for patriotism, if to be beloved for philanthropy, can gratify the human' mind, you must have the pleasing consolation to know, that And I flatter you have not lived in vain. myself that it will not be ranked among the least grateful occurrences of your life to be assured, that, so long as I retain my memory, you will be recollected with respect, veneration, and affection, by your sincere friend, GEO. WASHINGTON, A BLUE-STOCKING IN MICHIGAN. BY MISS MARY CLAVERS. AN addition to our Montacute first circle had lately appeared in the person of Miss Eloise Fidler, an elder sister of Mrs. Rivers, who was to spend some months "in this peaceful retreat,"-to borrow one of her favourite expressions. This young lady was not as handsome as she would fain have been, if I may judge by the cataracts of ash-coloured ringlets which shaded her cheeks, and the exceeding straightness of the stays which restrained her somewhat exuberant proportions. Her age was at a stand; but I could never discover exactly where, for this point proved an exception to the general communicativenes of her disposition. I guessed it at eight-and-twenty; but perhaps she would have judged this uncharitable, so I will not insist. Certain it is that it must have taken a good while to read as many novels and commit to memory as much poetry, as lined the head, and exalted the sensibilities, of our fair visitant. Her dress was in the height of fashion, and all her accoutrements point de vice. A gold pencil-case of the most delicate propor-, tions was suspended by a kindred chain round a neck which might be called a whity-brown; and a note-book of corresponding lady-likeness was peeping from the pocket of her highly useful apron of blue silk-ever ready to secure a passing thought or an elegant quotation. Her album - she was just the person to have an album-was resplendent in gold and satin, and the verses which meandered over its emblazoned pages were of the most unexceptionable quality, overlaid with flowers and gems love and despair. - To find any degree of appropriateness in these various offerings, one must allow the fortu nate possessor of the purple volume at least all the various perfections of an admirable Crichton, allayed in some measure by the trifling faults of coldness, fickleness, and deceit; and to judge of Miss Fidler's friends by their hand-writing, they must have been able to offer an edifying variety of bumps to the fingers of the phrenologist. We regret we have not room for a few specimens from its loaded pages. Miss Fidler wrote her own poetry, so that she had ample employment for her time while with us in the woods. It was unfortunatethat she could not walk out much, on account of her shoes. She was obliged to make out with diluted inspiration. The nearest approach she usually made to the study of Nature, was to sit on the wood-pile, under a girdled tree, and there, with her gold pencil in hand, and her "eyne, gray as glass," rolled upwards, poesy by the hour. Several people, and especially one marriageable lady of a certain age, felt afraid Miss Fidler was "kind o' crazy" And, standing marvel of Montacute, no guest at morning or night ever found the fair Eloise ungloved. Think of it! In the very wilds, to be always like a cat in nutshells, alone useless where all are so busy! I do not wonder our good neighbours thought the damsel a little touched. And then her shoes! "Saint Crispin Crispianus' never had so self-sacrificing a votary. No shoemaker this side of New York could make a sole papery enough; no tannery out of France could produce materials for this piece of exquisite feminine foppery. Eternal imprisonment within doors, except in the warmest and driest weather, was indeed somewhat of a price to pay, but it was ungrudged. The sofa and its footstool, finery and novels, would have made a delicious world for Miss Eloise Fidler. But, alas! "all this availeth me nothing," has been ever the song of poor human nature. The mention of that unfortunate name includes the only real, personal, pungent distress which had as yet shaded the lot of my interesting heroine. Fidler! In the mortification adhering to so unpoetical, so unromantic, so inelegant a surname a name irredeemable even by the highly classical elegance of the Eloise, or as the fair lady herself pronounced it, "Elovees; in this lay all her wo; and the grand study of her life had been to sink this hated cognomen in one more congenial to her taste. Perhaps this very anxiety had defeated itself; at any rate, here she was at-I did not mean to touch on the ungrateful guess again, but at least at mateable years; neither married, nor particularly likely to be married. Mrs. Rivers was the object of absolute envy to the pining Eloise." Anna had been so fortunate," she said; Rivers was the sweetest name! and Harley was such an elegant fellow!" We thought poor Anna had been anything but fortunate. She might better have been Fidler or Fiddlestring all her life than to have taken the name of an indifferent and dissipated husband. But not so thought Miss Fidler. It was not long after the arrival of the elegant Eloise, that the Montacute Lyceum held its first meeting in Mr. Simeon Jenkins' shop, lighted by three candles, supported by candelabra of scooped potatoes; -Mr. Jenkins himself sitting on the head of a barrel, as president. At first the debates of the institute were held with closed doors; but after the youthful or less practised speakers had tried their powers for a few evenings, the Lyceum was thrown open to the world every Tuesday evening, at six o'clock. The list of members was not very select as to age, character, or standing; and it soon included the entire gentility of the town, and some who scarce claimed rank elsewhere. The attendance of the ladies was particularly requested! and the whole fair sex of Montacute made a point of showing occasionally the interest they undoubtedly felt in the gallant knights who tilted in this field of honour. But I must not be too diffuse-I was speaking of Miss Fidler. One evening-1 hope that beginning prepares the reader for somethinghighly interesting-oneevening the question to be debated was the equally novel and striking one which regards the comparative mental capacity of the sexes; and as it was expected that someof the best speakers on both sides would be drawn out by the interesting nature of the subject, every body was anxious to attend. Among the rest was Miss Fidler, much to the surprise of her sister and myself, who had hitherto been so unfashionable as to deny ourselves this gratification. "What new whim possesses you, Eloise ?" said Mrs. Rivers; "you who never go out in the day-time." "Oh, just per passy le tong," said the young lady, who was a great French scholar; and go she would and did go. The debate was interesting to absolute breathlessness, both of speakers and hearers, and was gallantly decided in favour of the fair by a youthful member who occupied the barrel as president for the evening. He gave it as his decided opinion, that if the natural and social disadvantages under which woman laboured and must ever continue to labour, could be removed; if their education could be entirely different, and their position in society the reverse of what it is at present, they would be very nearly, if not quite, equal to the nobler sex, in all but strength of mind, in which very useful quality it was his opinion that man would still have the advantage, especially in those communities whose energies were developed by the aid of debating societies. This decision was hailed with acclamations, and as soon as the question for the ensuing debate, "which is the more useful animal, the ox or the ass?" was announced, Miss Eloise Fidler returned home to rave of the elegant young man who sat on the barrel, whom she had decided to be one of "Nature's aristocracy," and whom she had discovered to bear the splendid appellative of Dacre. "Edward Dacre," said ste, "for I heard the rude creature Jenkins call him Ed." The next morning witnessed another departure from Miss Fidler's usual habits. She proposed a walk; and observed that she had never yet bought an article at the store, and really felt as if she ought to purchase something. Mrs. Rivers chancing to be somewhat occupied, Miss Fidler did me the honour of a call, as she could not think of walking without a chaperon. Behind the counter at Skinner's I saw for the first time a spruce clerk, a really welllooking young man, who made his very best bow to Miss Fidler, and served us with much assiduity. The young lady's purchases occupied some time, and I was obliged gently to hint home affairs before she could decide between two pieces of muslin, which she declared to be so nearly alike, that it was almost impossible to say which was the best. When we were at length on our return, I was closely questioned as to my knowledge of "that gentleman," and on my observing that he seemed to be a very decent young man, Miss Fidler warmly justified him from any such opinion, and after a glowing eulogium on his firm countenance, his elegant manners, and his grace as a debater, concluded by informing me, as if to cap the climax, that his name was Edward Dacre. I had thought no more of the matter for some time, though I knew Mr. Dacre had become a frequent visitor at Mr. Rivers', when Mrs. Rivers came to me one morning with a perplexed brow, and confided to me her sisterly fears that Eloise was about to make a fool of herself, as she had done more than once before. "My father," she said, "hoped, in this remote corner of creation, Eloise might forget her nonsense, and act like other people; but I verily believe she is bent upon encouraging this low fellow, whose principal charm in her bewildered eyes is his name.' "His name!" said I, "pray explain;" for I had not then learned all the boundless absurdity of this new Cherubina's fancies." "Edward Dacre !" said my friend, "this is what enchants my sister, who is absolutely mad on the subject of her own homely appellation." "Oh, is that all?" said I, "send her to me, then; and I engage to dismiss her cured." And Miss Fidler came to spend the day. We talked of all novels without exception, and all poetry of all magazines, and Miss Fidler asked me if I had read the " Young Duke." Upon my confessing as much, she asked my opinion of the heroine, and then if I had ever heard so sweet a name. 66 May Dacre-May Dacre," she repeated, as if to solace her delighted ears. "Only think how such names are murdered in this country," said I, tossing carelessly before her an account of Mr. Skinner's, which bore "Edkins Daker" below the receipt. I never saw a change equal to that which seemed to "come o'er the spirit of her dream." I went on with my citations of murdered names, telling how Rogers was turned into Rudgers, Conway into Coniway, and Montague into Montaig, but poor Miss Fidler was no longer in talking mood; and, long before the day was out, she complained of a head-ache, and returned to her sister's. Mr. Daker found her "not at home" that evening; and when I called next morning, the young lady was in bed, steeping her long ringlets in tears-real tears. To hasten to the catastrophe: it was discovered ere long that Mr. Edkins Daker's handsome face, and really pleasant manners, had fairly vanquished Miss Fidler's romance, and she had responded to his professions of attachment with a truth and sincerity, which, while it vexed her family inexpressibly, seemed to me to atone for all her follies. Mr. Daker's prospects were by no means despicable, since a small capital employed in merchandize in Michigan is very apt to confer upon the industrious and fortunate possessor that crowning charm, without which, handsome faces, and even handsome names, are quite worthless in our Western eyes. Some little disparity of age existed between Miss Fidler and her adorer; but this was conceded by all to be abundantly made up by the superabounding gentility of the lady; and when Mr. Daker returned from New York with his new stock of goods and his stylish bride, I thought I had seldom seen a happier or a better-mated couple. And at this present writing, I do not believe Eloise, with all her whims, would exchange her very nice Edkins for the proudest Dacre of the British Peerage. HAPPINESS. BY THE REV. J. H. CLINCH. "MAN never is," the poet sings, "But always to be bless'd." If in the pleasures of the mind If in the heart's deep cells it lies, Is lost in perfect love. THE NEWLY-MARRIED MAN. BY JOHN NEAL. Look "As I live, there she goes now! look! the very woman I told you so much of. The most beautiful creature, and the most of a- -Oh, hang it! I've no patience with you newly-married men. Why don't you look, George-hey ?" "Well, Harper," yawning, and turning languidly toward a group of fashionablydressed women, who appeared to be passing out of some church, auction, or fair, in the neighbourhood-" well, Harper, to oblige you, I will look-which is the lady?" "Which?-How can you ask, after seeing that step, and carriage, and the swaying of those white ostrich-feathers, and the cast of that magnificent drapery, and the-Zounds and death! what ails the man?" 66 Harper, Harper! it were as much as your life is worth 66 So, so! waked up at last, are you?Pale as death at the sight of a beautiful woman, married though you are, and newlymarried too - actually muttering in your sleep! One would believe you rehearsing a speech for the jury, in a capital case, or acting Macbeth in the dagger-scene, to look at your hands, your attitude, your eyes-to see you, as you stand there, with your lips inoving, and sweat-ay, George, big drops of sweat-standing upon your forehead!" 66 Harper-Harper!" gasping for breath, and playing with his fingers, and trying to smile, you have no idea who that woman is-hey?" "Your hand, my dear fellow! I've wronged you. I had an idea that you were desperate and wicked enough-But no matter; how could I have been such an ass?" Nothing easier in the world, for a married man. But I say, though, George, there seems to be a kind of a-of a-what d'ye call it?-you men that make poetry, and speeches, and wry faces, and do tragedy in the public streets-a kind of a mystery here, hey?" "Rather. But before I explain that mystery, my friend, there are two or three questions, if you please, that must be answered." "Must be answered, hey? And by whom?" 16 By you, Harper." "Must!" "Must, Harper, must. ceremony." I've no time for "Nor I neither, George; and therefore, although I don t much like your manner, nor your look, nor your language-you'll excuse me-but my notion is, that you are rather too fond of the Park and the Bowery playhouses, for a married man-hey? Rather too much given to the melo-dramatic for every-day people-to out-Heroding Herod on small occasions-to Cook-ing Kean, where both are out of place. However, as I said before, although I don't much like your way of popping the question, still, out of mercy -sheer mercy, to your earnestness and way wardness. "To the point, Harper, to the point! My waywardness will not bear trifling with just now." "Very well; to the point, then. Propound your questions, keep your temper, and after you are satisfied, we'll have a bit of a blow up, if you say so; and if, on the whole, it should appear expedient, under all the circumstances-hey?" "With all my heart. Are you acquainted with that woman?' "No." "Have you ever spoken to her ?" "Never." "How long is it since you first saw her?" "Three months," counting his fingers, "five days, two hours, and a-" pulling out his watch, "and about a—a—" "No trifling, if you please." "I am particular, because you are. I saw her first, as you may remember-for I told you of it the very next day-on the fourth of July last past." "And are you sure-quite sure, that the woman we just saw turning that corner is the very woman that Millar, the profligate scoundrel, appeared so infatuated with?" "The same. He grows more and more infatuated every hour-he follows her everywhere. By Jupiter! there he is now! knew he couldn't be far off." I "Harper!' struggling with himself, and trembling with suppressed rage, as if undetermined whether to follow the parties or not. • Harper!" "Bless my heart, George, what ails you? Are you ill?" "Harper, have you seen any thing like encouragement on her part?" "Can't say I have, George. But then, you know, the fellow's reputation—” "The puppy!" "I say nothing about his wealth, and courage, and personal appearance, nor do I care much about his gentleness, and smoothness, and perseverance; they are all well enough in their way; but his reputation, that's the thing. The poor creatures 'll never stand that, you know." "His reputation for what?' "For what? Why, for success, to be sure-for being such a favourite with the most prudish and cautious of our fashionable women-for being so faithful and so trustworthy! Ah, my friend! there lies the danger, after all." "Danger, indeed! The miserable, effeminate wretch! how can a full-grown woman stomach such a thing? Were I a woman, it appears to me I should quite as soon fall in love with a girl upon the stage, rigged out as Romeo or Hamlet." Nevertheless, my dear fellow, I have my fears." 66 Your fears!-How? what?" "I am afraid these very things have had their influence with that lofty-looking creature we saw." "Afraid, hey? And wherefore-wherefore? Tell me why you are afraid." 66 Bless my soul! how eager you are." "Let me know the worst, my friend-the very worst; I can bear it." "You can bear it! Why, what on earth have you to do with the business, hey?You, a married man-married, as you yourself assure me, to the loveliest woman I ever 66 "The desperate grasp thy frame might feel Through treble bars of brass or steel.'" Harper-Tom! I cannot bear this." "Bear what? Why don't you explain yourself? Here am I, boxing all round the compass, to find out something, which two words from you would clear up, I dare say; and yet, for want of a little-a very little not more than half a thimbleful, of that common sense, which you twit me with having so much of, you leave me to guess all sorts of things to your disadvantage." "To my disadvantage! How?" "Let you know the worst, hey?—the very worst! You can bear it, hey? And pray, sir, what business have you-a married man -to know the worst of any other woman alive, but your own wife? Have a care, George." "Exactly. And then, what business have you-a married man, as I said beforenewly married, too, and married to such a lovely woman-what business have you to talk about what you can bear on account of any other woman, hey? Answer me that, will you?" "You are right, my friend; it was very foolish of me, and must have appeared exceedingly strange to you" "You may well say that. I'll be hanged if I didn't begin to think you were jealous." "Jealous! 1! I hope you don't imagine, sir-" "But beware-beware of jealousy, saith Iago-honest Iago." "'Sdeath and fury, man! what mean you by this ribald trifling?" Hoity-toity! you'd better try for a birth at Bartlemy Fair! "What a terrible thing to be father-in-law To a most magnificent three-tail'd bashaw!'" Harper-Tom Harper! don't drive me mad!" "Mad! You're mad now-mad as a March hare. Not satisfied with the unquestioned monopoly of one beautiful woman' 66 Unquestioned, hey? True, true! what an ass I am!” "Ex-act-ly, as I said before-ex-act-ly; them's my sentiments. By the way, George, when do you mean to let me see her, as you have promised, face to face, at your own supper-table? I don't half like this being acquainted with such a glorious creature at second-hand. But, to finish what I was going to say-here are you now, a married man, the happiest fellow on earth, if you are to be believed, in the actual possession and enjoyment-as you men of the law say-of the handsomest woman to be met with hereabouts; yet, some how or other, for some reason or other, actually jealous of the favour which another handsome woman thinks proper to lavish upon a fellow you happen to hate most cordially." "Hate! No, indeed, the poppinjay! no, no! at the most, I only despise him just enough to Well, well! no matter." "Of a truth, Solomon was more than half right when he said, that jealousy is as cruel as the grave." "And love--as strong as death!" "Bravo-bravissimo! That would be worth half a dozen rounds to you, at a Fourth of July recitation. 'And love, as strong as death,' hey? Bravo bravissimo! Hear, hear, hear!" "Have done with your nonsense, will you ?"" "Yes, when you have done with yours, and answered my question." "What question? "What question! Well, hang me if I |