and ruined it, how could it be expected to stand the fierce tempest, the scorching heat, the bitter cold, and all the changes of season which come so suddenly and certainly over this world? Even in its calmest moments Pleasure drooped secretly with the thought that its beauty was brief, and its very life precarious. Every whisper among the leaves of the trees alarmed it-every rolling cloud in heaven struck a damp and a shadow upon its radiance.

But all this while Content was perfectly free and satisfied, and cared almost as little for the changes of the season as if it were immortal. There was about it an enduring hardihood, which defied the storm. The long hot droughts of summer, which burnt up the tender charms of Pleasure, had no material effect upon the leaves of Content, and when the frightful thunder shower arose, and the large heavy drops came splashing and dashing down, and drenched nature in one universal flood, Content peeped out, as the deluge subsided, with a refreshed and gay beauty, which almost equalled that of Pleasure in its best moments.

A youth came by one day, and as was the case with all who passed the spot, was struck with the sight of Pleasure, and resolved to obtain it. On so doing, he trod upon Content, but the voice of the crushed flower was unheard in his eagerness to advance. When men are hastening, with wild hope, in the pursuit of their desires, they are deaf to a thousand low sweet tones of nature, which, on their retreat, after disappointment and danger, and anguish, and, perhaps, despair, sound in their ears with an irresistible power. In a short time the youth came back, wearied, faint, and bleeding with wounds received from the briars. He was one of those wild, reckless children of passion, with whom the world abounds, and who waste energies and courage in idle and pernicious enterprises, which, if applied to more noble purposes, would make them virtuous and happy.

He had plucked the flower, but it was broken and soiled; already its vivid tinges were fading away, and its luscious perfume grew fainter every moment. He soon discovered also, to his amazement and horror, that though is was so fair and lovely, his wounds smarted at its touch, and the scent which he had at first inhaled

with a violent delight, took the strength from his limbs and the courage from his heart-made his eyes languid, his resolution weak, and his intellect dim and heavy. As he rested on a rude bank, far below the spot ornamented by the deceitful plant which had caused him so much trouble, the fine flower which had till then escaped his observation, uncurled its scented leaves, and glowing with a beauty which grew more palpable the more closely it was examined, thus addressed the tired and despondent boy :

"I called to you, fair youth, as you were mounting yonder steep so hastily, and told you to beware, but you, like all your race, paid no attention to my warning. Indeed, I doubt whether you even heard it. I am, however, not very sorry for your sake that you have had a little experience, since it will induce you to rest a moment, and listen while I confide to you a secret which you do not appear to understand. You must know then, that the plant up yonder, specious as it is, has ruined more people here in my very sight, than there are leaves in that forest. It not only attacks them with pain, but it inflames them with guilty hopes and reckless passions. It is a poison. I am a medicine. If I cannot cure, I can impart strength, which will enable you to sustain all sorrow. I am to be found every where. Nature has given me to her children, with a liberal hand, if they choose but to seize me, instead of trampling me beneath their feet, in search of more gaudy, but more worthless objects. I am full of the spirit of goodness: though I am seldom cultivated in the gardens of the great, I spring up, unbidden, around the feet of the tired traveller, and by the threshold of the poor man's cottage. and it is their own fault if they do not discover my value."

CITY RAMBLES.

Ir is now the twenty-second of April. Come here, Arthur. Look out of this window-there, by those vine leaves-don't you see a humming bird, clad in an

unspeakable gorgeousness, shaming the richest eastern monarch, and floating on his half-visible wings from bud to bud? Hark to his hum. Does not your heart leap with the rarest summer associations at the sound? What a superb creature! Let us go forth and rove awhile. There is something irresistibly seducing in the first breath of spring. How serene and bright is all nature. The air is a delicious temperature, and yet the sun has not yet lifted his magnificent disk fairly into the heavens. See, even now his expanded rim lingers a moment on the horizon, as if to steal a parting kiss. Now that deep, rich cloud has broken into lines and crosses his dazzling face like golden bars. See how they break away-slowly melting from his fiery beams. There—there—they are gone aside. He is clear, and his radiant floods roll over the scene without interruption.

Let us take a stroll around the good old city of Manahatta. It has been obscured so long with wintry storms that we have not lately lingered in the streets. We will greet them with a little more attention.

The trampling of horses' feet. It is a party of pleasure, consisting of several ladies and gentlemen. They come this way. Pretty! very pretty! And now as they are sweeping that corner I hear the sound of their light laughter. Riding is a healthy and graceful exercise, and I observe with pleasure that it is coming into fashion more and more every year; and, what is better, the ladies ride-before breakfast. Groups of them may be frequently noticed at this early and delightful period of the day passing in high glee up Broadway into some of the fine avenues which lead over the island. There are many admirable roads for this purpose in our vicinity. Those adjacent to the east river have many charms, but on the whole, I prefer those in the vicinity of the Hudson-through Bloomingdale, and along several by-paths that lead through winding and shady lanes down to the water's edge. I suspect the fair travellers are not all acquainted with the noble, I may add splendid prospects, within an hour's ride of their homes. There is one in particular from the rocky shore of the North river, beautiful and striking in a remarkable degree. You catch a fine

picture view of Weehawken point-the broad bay and river-the New York shore, and also that of New Jersey, gradually rising and beginning to heave with those graceful swells and abrupt acclivities which, as you proceed up the stream, enlarge so splendidly into mountain scenery.

The warm weather has brought out all the bees, white pantaloons, and soda water shops. The academies of paintings are to be opened-Niblo's garden is opened Contoit, Palmo, Castle garden-the note of preparation is sounding far and wide.

Niblo is one of the most wonderful fellows that ever lived. The influence of his original mind has absolutely wrought a change in this city. He has given an impulse to gardens, and fireworks, bowers, green lamps, dinners, &c. There was a time when the men and women of New York walked. The ladies walked from the Battery to the Sailor's Snug Harbor. The merchants walked down Broadway in strings to Wall street after they had got their breakfast; and when they had perpetrated all their transactions they walked back. Citizens of every grade-except youth of the very first order-were compelled to follow the example of Loony Mactwolter, and traverse the distance of this extended metropolis on the machines that the hay makers use in Ireland. Hackney coaches are expensive, and the drivers insolent. But who walks now? Niblo's fertile imagination one day struck out a new plan, for he has the inventive and bold genius of Napoleon himself. "Do you see that star?" said the emperor one day to his uncle as an explanation of his ensuing excursion to Russia. -66 No," replied the old cardinal. "I do," was the reply. "Do you not see what this is for ?" said Niblo to the carriage maker, when he ordered a stage four times larger than had ever been conceived here before, and to be fitted up in the most expensive style. "No," replied the wheelwright. Niblo placed the tip of his fore finger on his nose. An expression of deep thought passed over his face. "I do," he said; and leaving the room, ordered his man to get a bottle of Maderia, a corkscrew, and one glass, and deny him to all visiters. The event has realized his expectations. There are now in Broadway alone, twenty-six of the

most fanciful and pleasant vehicles to ride in that can be imagined. You travel two or three miles for eight cents or a shilling, and each one, I learn, takes in sixteen dollars a day. Who says the designer of this is not a public benefactor, and ought not to have a dinner? Do you see that row of fine houses in William by Wall street? They are to come down-half of Ann, ditto-and I do not know how many others, for the sake of improving and beautifying the city. The changes which at present it is undergoing will materially alter the appearance of many portions of it. You remember the mass of filthy buildings in the rear of college green. See what an imposing row of mansions now occupies and ornaments the spot. It really has a lordly air, and is one of the most charming sections of the town. This place was formerly a sand bank; and before it was at all cultivated, or had any particular value attached to it, I have heard the then corporation leased it, with a vast amount of other real property, for an exorbitant length of time at an annual rent of a few bushels of wheat! Of course, when the old lease expires, the estate will revert to the corporation.

It is strange that with all the extended plans which the common council form for the benefit of the citizens, they are so inexcusably negligent of cleanliness. No city in the Union is so filthy. There seems to be no energy exerted on the subject, although the daily papers teen with epistles from cats and dogs who have departed this life, praying a decent interment. Mud lies often in the streets for weeks, ankle deep; and as for dirt, the inhabitants may fear the ophthalmy, a disease of the eyes which many Arabs suffer from the sands of the desert. There-look at that fellow yonder, emptying ashes into an uncovered cart. See as the light breeze springs up how it sweeps in a long train down the street into the faces of the passengers, and on the other side behold a waggon of lime treating the people opposite in the same way. All this is mighty agreeable.

Well, here we are on the Battery-a scene of which we can never tire. See that winged boat flying across the surface, and leaving behind it a wake of whirling eddies and sparkling foam. Is it not pretty? Farther off is a ship putting out to sea. She floats with a slower