imagined myself disposing my books on the shelves of my snug little parlour: I fancied my breakfast-table enlivened by woman's presence; I saw the parting nod which spoke the morning farewell, and the cheerful smile which greeted my return from business, and still advancing in time and in happiness, saw baby faces held up to welcome my arrival, and heard those young and joyous voices which convey cheerfulness and delight to a parent's heart. Meanwhile I steeled my heart against female power; resolutely ran away from temptation; and, convinced that an engagement of more than a twelvemonth was neither pleasant nor prudent, I determined not to attempt to gain any woman's affections till I had it in my power to offer her a comfortable home. Sometimes my heart was pricked, sometimes slightly wounded; I occasionally detected myself identifying the creation of my fancy with my last partner in a quadrille, admitting the possibility of admiring blue eyes as well as brown, or even suspecting that I might marry a woman whose name was neither Mary nor Ellen. At length, four years before the wooing time arrived, the deaths of an uncle whom I had never seen, and of two cousins who refused me the honour of a passing bow, put me most unexpectedly in possession of ten thousand a-year. I was much surprised, and supposed that my happiness would be considerably increased. I gave up my business, discharged my lodgings, and prepared to set out for the family mansion. Already was a change in my feelings visible. My little library, once so precious, was now of small importance, and I gave no directions about the packing of my books, though there was a time when the loss of a single volume, or the injury of a single leaf, would have been a serious annoyance. I passed a shop where a handsome edition of Livy had once attracted my envying eyes, without casting a glance towards it. "I can buy that at any time," thought I, and the meditated purchase seemed robbed of half its value. I soon found it the same in other respects. At first, indeed, it was so new and pleasant to feel my acquired dignity, to receive congratulations, issue orders, direct improvements, that a twelvemonth passed away happily enough, even now, indeed, I ought to be happy: I have health, and riches, and affectionate friends, yet life seems unusually dull, and time will sometimes hang heavily on my hands. Now I have the entire disposal of my whole day, leisure is less valuable; now I might read from morning to night, I find less pleasure in study; now I have only to order as many books as I please, the selection affords me less amusement-the acquisition less delight; now I may shoot over good preserves from September 1st to April 5th, I take up my gun with less glee, and bring down my bird with less triumph; and now I may marry any girl in the country, I find it quite impossible to fall in love with one of them. I am so fond of female society, so convinced that man's happiness and respectability flourish best in domestic life, that I really take pains to lose my heart, try to coax myself into affection-to fan myself into flames. But, alas! all to no purpose, I cannot persuade myself of the sincerity of that par

tiality which I every where encounter, and I read in sparkling eyes, and cheeks which grow brighter at my approach, nothing but a readiness to live at Northwood Hall, and assist me in the expenditure of ten thousand a-year.

"To be accepted merely for my wealth, to become the prize and the dupe of some mercenary woman, to find indifference and dissipation, where I hoped for true attachment and quiet tastes, would be, in my opinion, the summit of discomfort: doubtless there are thousands of women in the world who would spurn the idea of marrying from interested motives-women capable of the purest and the strongest affection, but how am I to discriminate, how distinguish the words and looks of dawning partiality from those of crafty semblance; a mistake would be irretrievable-would destroy the happiness of my life at a blow; the risk is too great to be encountered, and I find myself obliged to adopt the motto of a bachelor-peer of high rank, who is, perhaps, in some degree actuated by similar feelings, and to say to myself, when surrounded by winning smiles and favouring glances, Cavendo tutus,' Cavendo tutus.'

"I am not only excluded by my suspicions from matrimony, but am almost shut out by my principles from female society. Too honourable to desire to excite unfounded hopes and expectations, I carefully abstain from any peculiar attentions to single women, but alas! I cannot now ask a young lady to drink wine, without a congratulatory glance passing between her father and mother; nor request her to be my partner in a quadrille, without raising sanguine hopes of a partnership of a more durable nature. If I chance to speak low to any fair expectant, a murmur runs round the room, that I am making my proposals; and the offer of my arm during a walk, the loan of a book, or the approval of a drawing, is sure to produce a paragraph in the County Chronicle, in which I am led to the hymeneal altar with the object of this unmeaning attention. Then how the fathers, and mothers, and uncles, and aunts, teaze me about my bachelor condition; the health of the future Mrs. is drunk at every dinner-party; whenever Northwood Hall is mentioned it is declared to want nothing but a mistress-and "So you are going to be married at last ?"-" So you are really about to become a Benedict?"-"Who is the fortunate lady?"" When am I to wish you joy ?"-and a hundred jokes about honey-moons, and curtain-lectures, and petitions for wedding-cake and favours, meet me in all directions. If I may trust the account of their relations, all the young women in my neighbourhood are miracles of sense and excellence-patterns of every virtue; and all I have to do is to decide between rival angels. These pieces of perfection themselves are very willing to perform the agreeable; two or three are learning Italian, because I said, by chance, it was my favourite language; four are squalling themselves hoarse because I am fond of singing; and there is not a colour to be seen on one of them since I was heard to say that I thought white dresses most genteel and becoming. In some respects my influence is beneficial. I have banished waltzing from the country, by saying I should not like

my wife to waltz; and the once neglected national schools have abundance of patronage since I expressed my approbation of two or three good old ladies who occasionally attended them.

"Suppose not, my dear friend, that my vanity is at all gratified by so much compliance and flattery; on the contrary, I assign all to the real motives, feel vexed and mortified, and fear I must live and die a bachelor, because all the ladies are anxious to marry me. Willingly, cheerfully would I resign my fortune, leave Northwood Hall and idleness, for London and labour, could I do so consistently with duty and common sense; but this is impossible, and I am obliged to exchange unsuspecting love and confiding affection for splendour I do not relish, and leisure I do not enjoy. I yearn for the duties, the charities, the blessings of domestic life; but must content myself with performing well the obligations of a master, a landlord, and a friend-happy if, after years of caution and suspicion, I do not, in more advanced life, overthrow the prudence of years by the infatuation of a week, and become at threescore the dupe of arts, which at thirty I should have discovered and despised. I remain, my dear Friend,

Very sincerely your's.".

THE BROTHERS:

AN ANECDOTE FROM THE GERMAN OF SCHILLER.

PLAYS and romances disclose to us the most shining traits in the human mind: our imagination is inflamed, but our heart remains cold; at least the fervour which is raised in it in this manner is only momentary, and becomes chilled in practical life. At the same instant that we are moved almost to tears by the unadorned goodness of heart of the noble hero of romance, we perhaps spurn with anger from our door the miserable beggar who importunes us for charity. Who knows, whether this artificial existence in an ideal world, may not undermine our existence in the real one? We hover as it were about the two extremes of morality, angel and devil, and the medium-manwe abandon

The following anecdote of two Germans, (with a proud joy do I say it) has one indisputable merit-it is true. I hope it may instil more warmth into my readers, than all the volumes of Grandison or of Pamela.

Two brothers, Barons of W, were in love with a young and excellent lady, and neither was acquainted with the passion of the other. The affection of both was tender and vehementit was their first: the maiden was beautiful, and formed of sensibility. They suffered their inclinations to increase to the utmost bounds, for the danger the most dreadful to their hearts was unknown to them, to have a brother for a rival. Each

forbore an early explanation with the lady, and thus were both deceived; until an unexpected occurrence discovered the whole secret of their sentiments.

Their love had already risen to its utmost height: that most unhappy passion, which has caused almost as cruel ravages as its dreadful counterpart, had taken such complete possession of their hearts, as to render a sacrifice on either side impossible. The fair one, full of commiseration for the unhappy situation of these two unfortunates, would not decide upon the exclusion of either, but submitted her own feelings to the decision of their brotherly love.

Conqueror in this doubtful strife, betwixt duty and sentiment, which our philosophers are always so ready to decide, but which the practical man undertakes so slowly, the elder brother said to the younger, "I know thou lovest the maiden as vehement as myself. I will not ask for which of us a priority of right should determine. Do thou remain here, whilst I seek the wide world. I am willing to die, that I may forget her. If such be my fate, brother, then is she thine, and may Heaven bless thy love! Should I not meet with death, do thou set out, and follow my example."

He left Germany, and hastened to Holland; but the form of his beloved still followed him. Far from the climate which she inhabited, banished from the spot which contained the whole felicity of his heart, in which alone he was able to exist, the unhappy youth sickened, as the plant withers which is ravished from its maternal bed in Asia by the powerful European, and forced from its more clement sun into a remote and rougher soil. He reached Amsterdam in a desponding condition, where he fell ill of a violent and dangerous fever. The form of her he loved predominated in his frantic dreams; his health depended on her possession. The physicians were in doubt of his life, and nothing but the assurance of being restored again to her, rescued him from the arms of death. He arrived in his native city changed to a skeleton, the most dreadful image of consuming grief, and with tottering steps reached the door of his beloved-of his brother.

"Brother, behold me once again. Heaven knows how I have striven to subdue the emotions of my heart. I can do no more."

He sunk senseless into the lady's arms.

The younger brother was no less determined. In a few weeks he was ready to set out.

"Brother, thou carriedst thy grief with thee to Holland. I will endeavour to bear mine farther. Lead not the maiden to the altar till I write to thee. Fraternal love alone permits such a stipulation. Should I be more fortunate than thou wert, in the name of God let her be thine, and may Heaven prosper thy

union. Should I not, may the Almighty in that case judge further between us! Farewell. Take this sealed packet; do not open it till I am far from hence. I am going to Batavia."

He then sprung into the coach. The other remained motionless, and absorbed in grief, for his brother had surpassed him in generosity. Love, and at the same time, the sorrow at losing such a man, rushed forcibly upon his mind. The noise of the flying vehicle pierced him to the heart-his life was feared. The lady-but no! of her I must not yet speak.

The packet was opened. It contained a complete assignment of all his German possessions to his brother, in the event of fortune being favourable to the fugitive in Batavia. The latter, subduer of himself, sailed with some Dutch merchants, and arrived safely at that place. A few weeks after, he sent his brother the following lines:

"Here, where I return thanks to the Almighty, here, in another world, do I think of thee, and of our loves, with all the joy of a martyr. New scenes and events have expanded my soul, and God has given me strength to offer the greatest sacrifice to friendship-the maiden-God! here a tear doth fallthe last-I have conquered-the maiden is thine. Brother, it was not ordained that I should possess her; that is, she would not have been happy with me. If the thought should ever come to her, that she would have been-Brother! brother! with difficulty do I tear her from my soul. Do not forget how hard the attainment of her has been to thee. Treat her always as thy youthful passion at present teaches thee. Treat her always as the dear legacy of a brother, whom thy arms will never more enfold. Farewell! Do not write to me, when thou celebratest thy marriage-my wounds still bleed. Write to me, that thou art happy. My deed is a surety to me, that God will not forsake me in a foreign world."

The nuptials were celebrated. The most felicitous of marriages lasted a year. At the end of that period the lady died. In her expiring moments, she acknowledged to her most intimate friend the unhappy secret of her bosom :-the exiled brother she had loved the strongest.

Both brothers still live. The elder upon his estates in Germany, where he has married again. The younger remains in Batavia, and has become a fortunate and shining character. He made a vow never to marry, and has kept it.

PEARCE'S ACCOUNT OF ABYSSINIA.
.*

THE observations of a man of an active and vigorous mind like that of Nathaniel Pearce, on a country in which he resided about

A small but true Account of the Ways and Manners of the Abyssinians, by Nathaniel Pearce, an English Sailor, who was left in Abyssinia at his own desire,