How many persons have cause to regret their own inconsistencies; the consequence, perhaps, of irritability contracted in childhood, which, in maturer years, it is very difficult to correct. How often have they to lament their own inertness, the natural effect of early indulgence, which wastes and deadens the intellectual faculties, and disqualifies them for future effort. And, though they may struggle against such evils, and by divine grace may be able to overcome them, they always find that bad habits are their worst enemies, and that it is much more easy to discern than to correct them.

Amiability, intelligence, and an absence of affectation, are the most delightful features in the female character; and those which, next to religious principle, it is the business of education to impart. And, if we would wish our children to be beloved as well as admired, and esteemed as well as loved; if we would render them happy here, fortify them against the changes of life, and fit them for its close, we must endeavour to engraft these qualities upon the solid basis of Christian truth.-Mrs. Sandford..

IMPORTANCE OF TRIFLES.

SINCE trifles make the sum of human things,
And half our misery from our foibles springs:
Since life's best joys consist in peace and ease,
And few can save, or serve, but all can please;
Oh! let th' ungentle spirit learn, from hence,
A small unkindness is a great offence:
Large bounties to bestow we wish in vain,
But all may shun the guilt of giving pain.
To bless mankind with tides of flowing wealth,

With power to grace them, or to crown with health,
Our little lot denies; but Heaven decrees

To all the gift of minist'ring to ease:

The gentle offices of patient love,

Beyond all flatt'ry and all praise above;
The mild forbearance of another's fault;

The taunting word suppress'd as soon as thought;

On these Heaven bade the sweets of life depend;
And crush'd ill-fortune when she gave a friend.
A solitary blessing few can find;

Our joys with those we love are intertwined;
And he whose wakeful tenderness removes

Th' obstructing thorn which wounds the breast he loves,
Smoothes not another's rugged path alone,

But scatters roses to adorn his own.

Small slights, contempt, neglect, unmix'd with hate,
Make up in number what they want in weight:
These and a thousand griefs minute as these,
Corrode our comforts, and destroy our peace.

Hannah More.

GIPSIES.

Of the origin of these wanderers of the human race the learned are not agreed in their opinions; for we have no authentic records of their first emigrations. Some suppose them to be descendants of Israel, and many others that they are of Egyptian origin. Those who suppose them to be of Hindostanee or Suder origin, have much the best proof on their side; a Gipsy has a countenance and quickness of manner, which bear a strong resemblance to those people; nor is this mere assertion. The testimony of the most intelligent travellers, many of whom have long resided in India, fully supports this opinion.

The Gipsies are very numerous, amounting to about 700,000. It is supposed that there are about 18,000 in this kingdom; but, be they less or more, we ought never to forget that they are branches of the same family with ourselves that they are capable of being fitted for all the duties and enjoyments of life.

There are many genuine features of humanity in the character of this degraded and despised people. Their constantly retaining an affectionate remembrance of their deceased relatives, affords a striking proof of this statement; and their attachment to the horse, donkey, rings, silver spoons, and all things, except the clothes of the

deceased, is very strong. With such articles they will never part, except in the greatest distress. They have a singular custom of burning all the clothes belonging to any one among them deceased, with the straw, litter, &c.,

of his tent.

It is not often that a Gipsy is seen well dressed, even when they possess costly apparel; but their women are fond of finery. They are much delighted with broad lace, large ear-drops, a variety of rings, and glaring colours; and when they possess the means, show how great a share they have of that foolish vanity, which leads many, destitute of the faith, and hope, and love, and humility of the gospel, into utter ruin.

The trades they follow are generally chair-mending, knife-grinding, tinkering, and basket-making, the wood for which they mostly steal, but, in general, neither old nor young among them do much that can be called labour; and it is lamentable, that the greatest part of the little that they do earn, is laid by to spend at their festivals; for like many tribes of uncivilized Indians, they mostly make their women support their families, who generally do it by swindling and fortune-telling. Their baskets introduce them to the servants of families, of whom they beg victuals, to whom they sell trifling ware, and tell their fortunes, which, indeed, is their principal aim, as it is their greatest source of gain. Many of these idle soothsayers endeavour to persuade the people, whom they delude, that the power to foretell future events is granted to them from heaven, to enable them to get bread for their families. The prognostications of these women are not only encouraged among servants, but they are often consulted by those who ought to know and teach them better; and it is astonishing how many respectable people are led away with the artful flattery of such visiters. They forget that the Gipsy fortune-teller has often made herself acquainted with their connexions, business, and future prospects, and do not consider that God commits not his secrets to the wicked and profane, and that the power of foretelling future events can come from Him alone, when, for some wise and great purpose, He is pleased to grant it. Crabbe.

THE SUNBEAM.

THOU art no lingerer in monarch's hall;
A joy thou art, and a wealth to all;
A bearer of hope unto land and sea-
Sunbeam! what gift has the world like thee?
Thou art walking the billows, and Ocean smiles-
Thou hast touch'd with glory his thousand isles;
Thou hast lit up the ships and the feathery foam,
And gladden'd the sailor like words from home.
To the solemn depths of the forest shades,

Thou art streaming on through their green arcades,
And the quivering leaves that have caught thy glow,
Like fire-flies glance to the pools below.

I look'd on the mountains-a vapour lay,
Folding their heights in its dark array;
Thou brokest forth-and the mist became
A crown and a mantle of living flame.
I look'd on the peasant's lowly cot-
Something of sadness had wrapped the spot;
But a gleam of thee on its casement fell,
And it laugh'd into beauty at that bright spell.
To the earth's wild places a guest thou art,
Flushing the waste like the rose's heart;
And thou scornest not, from thy pomp, to shed
A tender light on the ruin's head.

Thou tak'st through the dim church-aisle thy way,
And its pillars from twilight flash forth to day,
And its high, pale tombs, with their trophies old,
Are bathed in a flood as of burning gold.

And thou turnest not from the humblest grave,
Where a flower to the sighing winds may wave;
Thou scatter'st its gloom like the dreams of rest,
Thou sleepest in love on its grassy breast.
Sunbeam of summer! oh! what is like thee?
Hope of the wilderness, joy of the sea!

One thing is like thee, to mortals given,

The faith touching all things with hues of Heaven.

Mrs. Hemans.

L

THE OBLIGING GIRL.

Lucy is a little girl who knows how to make herself very useful to her mother and her older sisters. She is always ready to run for any thing that is wanted, whether it is up stairs or down. If she is called to hold a skein of silk, or to pick up shreds from the carpet, or to look for a spool of cotton or a pair of scissors, she lays down her picture, book, or doll, and comes with cheerfulness and alacrity the instant she is called. Very often she comes when her mother and sisters are sitting at work together, and asks if there is not something that they would like to have her do; and when she knows any thing is wanted, she does not wait to be told to get it, but goes directly and brings it. Now, I have known some children who never seem to find out, of their own accord, when there is any thing for them to do. They must be told directly to do it, or they will not think of moving; and again, I have known some children who were oftentimes very slow in doing even what they were directed or requested. Elizabeth Hill is such a girl. As for doing any thing for the sake of obliging her sisters, without being asked, she would never think of such a thing. Her sister Mary happened to be late in her preparations for school one day. She was putting on her things in a great hurry, when she found that she had left one of her gloves up stairs. Mary did not ask her sister to go and get it for her, it is true, but if Elizabeth had been a thoughtful, obliging girl, she would have gone without being asked. But no; she kept her seat by the fire, and did not so much as think of trying to save her sister any time.

When Mary had her things on, she asked Elizabeth to come and tie the collar of her cloak. "If you will come here, I will do it," replied the unaccommodating girl, instead of rising and going to her sister

'Why, you know I am in a great hurry," replied Mary, "do assist me."

"Ah! I wish you would not trouble me so, every time you are going out," was Elizabeth's ill-humoured reply. What a disobliging little girl! How different from Lucy Nevers. Lucy would spend half an hour in