decide; I have a strange presentiment that I shall find something quite as unique and charming as Anna's rosery."

A few hours after this conversation, Emily came bounding to where Anna was standing, in the midst of her newly acquired property, complacently regarding it, and breathless with running, she triumphantly cried "there is but one violet cave as well as one rosery in the Woodlands! Come with me, Anna— come with me--I have fixed on my portion now and for ever! Ah, there is little Con. amongst her cabbages; come with us, Con. ! come away, and I will lead you both to the fairy queen's own private violet garden! no one ever loved violets so well as I do, better than you love roses, Anna; am I not lucky? haste, and follow me!"

We followed Emily in her rapid flight by the side of the meandering burn, through a thick copse and tangled underwood, which scratched and tore us wofully; but, in our excitement, we did not heed this; we crossed some wooden planks thrown across the rivulet, and came to a succession of rocky projec tions, past which the water glided; there was a narrow pathway by its side-so narrrow that we could only advance one by one, and where the rocks nearly met overhead, leaving a narrow chink for daylight to peep through; they were hollowed out beneath, forming a kind of spacious cave, through which the stream softly murmured. The whole flooring was carpeted with emerald moss, and beds of violets laved and washed by the tiny wavelets, whose fragrance was absolutely overpowering. What with the green verdure, the delicious scent, and the modest little darlings peeping forth all around us, it was indeed an enchanted scene we could not step without crushing them—and we literally had beds of violets to repose upon!

We crowned Emily on the spot, Queen of the Violet Cave, and congratulated her on the fortunate discovery.

"I shall often come and see you, Emily," said Anna, “in your beautiful retirement. How pleasant during the burning days of summer it will be to sit and read here!"

"And I," said Emily, "mean to visit you, dear Anna, when the rosy summer morn is breaking-when the early dews glisten on the bosoms of your blushing beauties."

"And won't you both come and see little Con. in her cabbage garden," quothe I," and help her to cut the cabbages for dinner, and to gather the gooseberries and currants?"

"Yes, dear, that we will," exclaimed both my sisters together, good humouredly, " and we will help you, dear Con., to gather the snails and the slugs that will haunt the best tended cabbage beds."

"I wonder where mama means to have her garden," said Anna: "she decides last of all, for she insisted on our choosing first."

"I think mama will take the strawberry-beds," quoth I, "and those brilliant varied flower-beds beside the old apple tree. Mama will have variety there, and I have often heard her say she likes that; and certainly it is the prettiest spot in the woodlands, excepting the rosery and the violet cave."

"And your cabbage garden, Con, darling," said both together, laughingly.

When next summer came round, we all exclaimed with better reason still, "What a rich variety mama has! she supplies us with such exquisite bouquets, and such delicious strawberries and apples." We delighted to wander in that variegated flowergarden, and Anna hinted that she thought a few other flowers interspersed amongst her roses, would have a good effect; while Emily requested a few roots of lilies of the valley, to vary the sameness of her violet cave. As to me, I borrowed and begged from them all, roses, violets, lilies, and hyacinth bells; and I tried in vain to coax a humble wall-flower, and a gaudy tulip, to fraternise with my vegetables; but they afforded such a feast to the snails and caterpillars of the locality, that skeletons only were left, and I was quizzed unmercifully by everybody. Nor did Anna and Emily escape-as our parents would not permit any alteration to be made in the rosery or violet cave. For," said our mother, "they are each perfect in their original condition as you found them, so they must be left. But next summer, my dear girls, I will gladly give up the superintendence of my garden to you, and you shall all tend it together for me. Only do not forget the easy lesson thus pleasingly learnt: remember that although roses are peerless and beautiful, we should be weary in time of never seeing anything but roses-all roses; or violets-all violets; or cabbages-all cabbages ;-elegance may be combined with usefulness, and variety with prudence and simplicity; for extremes are ever best to be avoided."

"And so my dear cousin," said Mrs. Con Ripley, as she concluded, "I have never forgotten this sweet lesson of my early happy days; and do you think you can apply the moral of it to your own case-Moderation in all things?"

November, 1849.-VOL. LV.-NO. CCXXII,

ROME IN '49.

BY C. E. NUGENT.

Beneath a southern sky fair Nature's face
Will greenly bloom, with every vernal grace,
The early sun bids lingering tempests cease,
And fragrant breezes softly whisper peace.
Summer, with all her rainbow-tinted train,
Dancing o'er hill and vale, returns again.
But all in vain the glorious sun for thee
Shines o'er thy beauteous fields, fair Italy!
Music no more is heard in hall or bower,
At early morn or noon-tide's sultry hour;
No minstrel now in song a chaplet weaves,
As zephyrs murmur 'mong the glistening leaves,
When Sol's last rays the West bespangling o'er,
Bids mirth, light-hearted, claim the hour once more.
Still, chief of all, does memory turn to thee,
Home of the past, the boast of Italy.

Again the seven-hilled city's pride laid low;

No Goth or Vandal now the ruthless foe,

But brethren, christian men, are leagued to slay,
Roll back the past as if 'twere yesterday:

Alas for Rome! Cannot history tell
With solemn warning, as a passing bell,
How vain intestine strife! how vain to be

Lured by the empty show of Liberty!

As o'er a deep, dark stream bright flowers will blow, Untelling all the cataract below.

Has gilded Freedom now a boon in store?

Does arch triumphal wait the conqueror?

What are those marks of recent shell and ball,
Deep-denting o'er the Roman Capitol?
A monument, in vain, of empire gone,
Truth-telling relic of the Cæsars' throne.
The Colosseum, too, must claim a tear,
As if dark ancient days were present there.
'Tis consecrated now, a ruined fane,

Undreaming barbarous times would come again,
When slaves in the arena strove to win
Another hour of life by conquering.

Can Freedom boast a worthier service now?
Is not the "March of Intellect" bowed low?
Go, view that column to an emperor's praise,
His statue crowned it in the olden days;
But now, oh bitter mockery! is reared
St. Paul, apostle of the Gospel word:
He meekly points to realms beyond the sky;
But man still strives with man for sovereignty.
Then, O my country! do thou, thankful, bless
The Lord of Life, the spring of happiness,
From which the living waters sparkling rise,
Refresh anew all human destinies,

Thankful that o'er our land they peaceful flow,
A shining light, amid a world of woe,-
That, undeserved, our homes can echo still
All gratitude to God, to man good-will.

THE SALUTARY LESSON.

BY MRS. EDWARD THOMAS.

CHAPTER I.

"My dear Mildred, do pray tell me candidly whether you have ever heard any reports prejudicial to the character of my pretty little protégée, Laura Harding? If you have not, my love, I must say that your coldness and superciliousness to her are most unpardonable."

66

Why, aunt, I certainly have not heard anything decidedly against her; but still I think she labours under extremely disadvantageous appearances,-living, as she does, in so unfashionable a locality, and with such a vulgar mother, too, at the same time; making such an ostentatious display of dress and jewellery as ought only to be sanctioned by undoubted wealth and rank. For my part, I cannot reconcile such inconsiderateness with strict integrity, however charitably I may be disposed." So, then, your mortifying and humiliating manner to her to-night, and, indeed, constantly of late, had no other foundation than the mere conjectures which spring, I earnestly hope, only

Nothing, believe me, inconsiderate judging us indulge, without, They may deceive the

from thoughtlessness, and not malignity. is more dangerously fallacious than that from appearances, which too many of perhaps, designedly intending to injure. most wise, the most wary, condemn the most virtuous; even you, or I, may some time or other be the innocent victims of them. I have known Laura from childhood; I have carefully studied her artless and ingenuous disposition; and I can conscientiously declare that every hour has increased my love and admiration of it, and forced me secretly to wish that your own more resembled it, in gentle and inoffensive meekness."

"What an idea, aunt! I am sure I consider such a wish no compliment, for I should detest resembling, in the slightest degree, so insipid a being as Laura, I assure you."

"Alas! there is no chance of your so doing: you will never be half so amiable. But, however, to refute the frivolous charges, or rather surmises, you bring against the sweet girl, I admit that her jewellery is most elegant and costly; but then it was her mother's."

Yes, aunt, I know it was; but how did it become hers? that is the mystery I am anxious to solve. I never will believe such an uneducated, common-place woman as Mrs. Harding ever obtained those splendid diamonds honestly,-that she ever was the wife of a man of birth and family.”

"Hush, Mildred, hush! how would you like the possession of the very diamonds you are now wearing to be so suspiciously challenged? Mind you are never punished with similar retribution for your want of faith in the virtue of another.

But, even supposing she were not a wife, shall we presumptuously arrogate to ourselves the awful privilege of visiting the sins of the parent upon the child? It is sufficient for him who never errs in his divine judgment to threaten so to do, and yet only to the offspring of those who still continue in a state of open reprobation, of unrepenting defiance and contumely of his laws; for his promises are most affluent, most hopeful, for the sons and daughters of contrite parents, as you must remember, even extending to thousands, for them that love him.

“ However, I firrnly believe she was a wife, a virtuous, honourable wife. She must have been superlatively beautiful; and very young men, whether of high birth or not, are frequently tempted to commit what we may esteem acts of desperate folly and imprudence to attain the possession of those charms which, perhaps, an innate modesty saves from yielding on easier, or rather, more worldly terms.

"In extreme youth, love is passion, desire; it has none of the reverence for talent, the congruity of rank, imperativeness of