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"What think you of my being a soldier?" asked Alfred.

"That I would prefer seeing you made a tailor of," replied Ellen. I would rather find you devoted to the making of clothes for men, than to the destroying of their bodies, even under the plea of upholding the peace of the world."

"That's a strong sentiment, cousin," said Alfred.

"I like it all the better for being so. What are you now, an intelligent, generous-hearted boy; with careful habits, and a willing hand to help the poor and needy. Make a soldier of you, and what do you become ; ambitious and extravagant. You will at once begin to see that if armies are upheld to fight, there must be people to be conquered, and to be kept in submission. You immediately look upon certain classes of your fellow-creatures as inferior beings, over whom you hold the rod of power. Away goes your brotherhood of heart. And what becomes of your love of learning? You read history no longer to study mankind for the general good, but to learn military tactics; to ascertain the chances upon which the issue of battles have depended. You see insult and wrong in every little act of national misdemeanour, and are constantly breathing the sentiment of war, like some evil creature going about innoculating all around you with a thirst for vengeance. Your other intellectual pursuits may be considered at an end-for what is the good of extensive and refining knowledge to the man who is expected to be a good fighting animal at all times; and who may have his library of ideas scattered in a second by a musket-ball ?"

"You put my first choice in a very unfavourable light, certainly," exclaimed Alfred.

"But I've not done yet," said Ellen. "What becomes of your morality. Mixing with vain and vicious men, you are led through all the vices that human nature is capable of, and often, in the course of war with unlimited power in your hands, you might be tempted to the commission of atrocities which now your uncorrupted heart would shudder at. The fate of your poor father is an illustration which you ought not to forget."

But all soldiers are not necessarily

such as you have described," replied Alfred.

"True, very true! Some are good in spite of the influences around them, and they deserve double honour. There is no rule without an exception. You may find corrupt men among the clergy, and you may find good men in the army. But in the choice of a profession, the first thing to be considered is its influence upon the moral character. Matters of profit and of prestige are properly, secondary considerations."

"But, cousin, if all people reasoned as you do, there would be no soldiers at all?” suggested Alfred.

"If they reasoned as I do, they would also feel as I feel, and then there would be little chance of war, and the necessity for armies would not exist. I hope and believe that the tendencies of the world are towards peace. I think we have seen that in proportion as nations have become enlightened, I mean with Christian enlightenment, so they have become pacifie, and that bigotry, heathenism, and infidelity always supply the battle-field of the world."

"Well, then, I suppose I mustn't be a soldier, or I shall lose my cousin's love?" said Alfred.

"Make another choice," said Ellen, "and see if you cannot do better."

"An artist's then!" suggested Alfred.

"That's better," said Ellen, "you have made a wide sweep from the tent to the studio. Still, I think you may do better even than that. Out of the immense number of artists, there are few who have risen to the rank of a Reynolds, a Wilkie, a Lawrence, or a Turner. Besides, you may serve mankind more substantially. I look upon painting as an accomplishment, not a profession. It ministers to the refined luxuries of mankind, not to their necessities. You may be a painter, but you should be something more; and if you feel disposed to give a few good pictures to posterity, throw them in as the produce of your leisure hours, a sort of treasure stolen from idleness. Martin gave us some of the sublimest and most elevating studies upon canvass; but he also gave us works of lasting utility. It was he who originated the most extensive plan for promoting the health and the morality of the metropolis,-a plan that one day will be

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"Suppose we say a clergman," repeated Ellen. "That problem seems solved by the spirit in which it was put. Do you think that the holy ordination is to be taken up as a mere matter of expediency? Would you write 'Soldier,'' Artist,' Architect,' Engineer,' and Clergyman,' upon as many pieces of paper, and putting them into a dice-box, shake them about, and take either one you chanced to draw? You must feel a strong yearning of the soul towards the service of God, before you can properly contemplate becoming a preacher of his Gospel. You are scarcely prepared, I think, to enter upon that now." Poor Alfred looked all bewilderment at his cousin, as he felt the weight of her objections to his several proposals. So she relieved his embarrassment by saying: "Now, Alfred, I'll try for you. But mind you are not led by my persuasion, without due reflection for yourself. If I were a man, there are two professions, one of which I would certainly choose. First is that of a doctor, or a surgeon. I should like this profession, because it constitutes an exalting study of the noblest work of God. Its mission is of the most blessed character-to alleviate the sufferings of our fellow-creatures. I was reading the other day 'The Diary of a Physician,''-a book which I dislike, because it deals chiefly with the horrors of disease and suffering and seems designed to base its popularity upon these existing topics; but I saw sufficiently therefrom, to confirm that which my little acquaintance with the sufferings of the sick poor had already impressed upon me,-the belief that the functions of the medical man are of the most exalting and sacred kind. If I were to enter into this profession, I would study with all the enthusiasm and close application that the laws of health would allow. And oh! how delightful to me, when called to the poor wretch writhing upon a bed of agony, to feel that by administering a simple prescription, or by performing a trifling operation, I could relieve from terrible pain, and snatch some loved and lovely creature from the grave.

I have seen, even in my own experience, a physician called in to a patient driven frantic by pain, shrieking aloud, and writhing convulsively. The physician administered a draft, and in a few moments the countenance of the sufferer became calm; and the patient kissing the hand of her benefactor, sunk into a sound sleep from which she awoke with her mania entirely dispelled. Even in those cases where death must ensue-where God claims the struggling spirit-how delightful to sooth the dying moments, by reducing bodily pain, to give the mind more freedom to exchange sweet thoughts and hopes with kinder friends before the spirit flies to heaven!"

He

Alfred was evidently impressed. advanced towards his cousin, and placing his arm around her neck listened attentively. "What would be your next choice?" asked Alfred.

"That of a civil engineer and architect. I should like to be such a man as Brunel, making bridges over rivers, and tunnels under them,-constructing railways, burrowing through hills, and elevating valleys, bringing distant places near, and by these works extending the privileges and multiplying the joys of mankind. These are the works that never die. They will serve mankind for ever. Unlike the monster pyramids of Egypt, vast monuments of misapplied capital and labour, the principles of their construction can never be forgotten, improvement will follow improvement until the maximum of speed is gained and the chances of accident diminished. What a glorious and unexampled thing the Great Exhibition was! Yet, only fifty years ago, that grand scheme which will never be forgotten in the history of the world, would have been utterly impracticable. We owe an immense debt to such men as Watt, Fulton, and Brunel. And yet these men are allowed to pass to their graves with scarcely a shadow of the honour paid to such warriors as Wellington. Perhaps it is as well. The glory of the one is to be found in imperishable works, scattering blessings on every side, so that there is not a cottage throughout the land but shares their influence; the other requires all the adventitious display that can be thrown around it, to make mankind

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believe that it is to be renowned. What would Nelson have been without the naval architect? Wellington might direct an army, but he could not weld a sword, or mould a cannon. Creative industry and skill, when properly applied, are the true benefactors of mankind, and those are the greatest men who direct these powers most successfully."

Ellen had made a convert. Alfred no more saw glory in the battle-field. Before he had time to express his approval, Mr. Lyndhurst, who had entered the room unobserved, stepped forward and kissed his daughter's forehead.

"A noble doctrine, and worthy of all acceptation," said he; "Alfred you will enlist in one of Ellen's regiments I conjecture?"

I think, so," said Alfred.

"Oh, papa," exclaimed Ellen, "how could you be so rude as to listen. I couldn't have spoken a word had I known you were near."

"Then my silence was not rudeness, but policy," Mr. Lyndhurst replied.

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HISTORICAL GLEANINGS. Lord and Vassal.-The Saxons held the tie which bound together the lord and the vassal, to be an engagement of so solemn a nature, that the breach of it was considered a crime of the most disgraceful and unpardonable atrocity. By Alfred it was declared inexpiable: and the laws pronounced against the offender the sentence of forfeiture and death.-Chron. Sax. 58. Leg. Sax. p. 33, 34, 35. 142, 143.

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66

Ranks. Amongst the Anglo-Saxons the free population was divided into the Eorl" " and "Ceorl," the men of noble and ignoble descent. The former were said to be ethel-born; a mere personal title, however, conferring neither property nor power. The termination "ing" added to the name of the progenitor, designated his posterity. The lofty title of "Etheling," the son of the noble, was reserved for the members of the reigning family. Amongst the ethel-born, the "cyning," or king, held the first place.

The consort of the king was originally known by the appellation of " queen," and shared in common with her husband the splendour of royalty. Of this distinction she was deprived by the crime of Eadburga, who administered poison to her husband, Brihtrie, king of Wessex. In the paroxysm of their indignation the "Witan' abolished, with the title of queen, all the appendages of female royalty. The latest of the Anglo-Saxon queens, though solemnly crowned, generally contented themselves with the modest appellation of "the lady."—Vide Chron. Sax. 132. 164, 165. 168.

""

After the royal family, the highest order in the state was the "earldormen" or earls. From the nature of their office, they are sometimes styled viceroys: by Bede they are dignified with the title of princes and satraps. They governed districts, denominated shires, in the name of the king. It was the earldorman's duty, as the representative of his monarch, to lead the men of his shire to battle; to preside with the bishop in the courts of the county, and to enforce the execution of justice. The office was originally in "By the Lord," said the inferior, the gift of the crown, and might have placing his hands between those of his been forfeited by misconduct; but it was chief, "I promise to be faithful and true; so frequently continued in the same family, to love all that thou lovest, and shun all that at last, instead of being solicited as that thou shunnest, conformably to the a favour, it began to be claimed as a right. laws of God and man; and never in will-Chron. Sax. 78. 169, 170. Leg. 78. 136.

Homage. The oath taken by the vassal to the lord was as follows:

CHILDREN.

"HEAVEN lies about us in our infancy," says Wordsworth. And who of us that is not too good to be conscious of his own vices, who has not felt rebuked and humbled under the clear and open countenance of a child?-who that has not felt his impurities foul upon him in the presence of a sinless child? These feelings make the best lesson that can be taught a man; and tell him in a way, which all else he has read or heard, never could, how paltry is all the show of intellect compared with a pure and good heart. He that will humble himself and go to a child for instruction, will come away a wiser man.

If children can make us wiser, they surely can make us better. There is no one more to be envied than a goodnatured man watching the workings of children's minds, or overlooking their play. Their eagerness, curious about every thing, making out by a quick imagination what they see but a part of--their fanciful combinations and magic inventions, creating out of ordinary circumstances and the common things which surround them, strange events and little ideal worlds, and these all working in mystery to form matured thought, is study enough for the most acute minds, and should teach us, also, not too officiously to regulate what we so little understand. The still musing and deep abstraction in which they sometimes sit, affect as as a playful mockery of older heads. These little philosophers have no foolish system, with all its pride and jargon, confusing their brains. Theirs is the natural movement of the soul, intense with new life and busy after truth, working to some purpose, though without a noise.

When children are lying about seemingly idle and dull, we, who have become case-hardened by time and satiety, forget that they are all sensation, that their outstretched bodies are drinking in from the common sun and air, that every sound is taken note of by the year, that every floating shadow and passing form come and touch at the sleepy eye, and that the little circumstances and the material world about them make their best school, and will be the instructors and formers of their characters for life.

And it is delightful to look on and see how busily the whole acts, with its countless parts fitted to each other, and moving in harmony. There are none of us who have stolen softly behind a child when labouring in a sunny corner digging a lilliputian well, or fencing in a six-inch barn-yard, and listened to his soliloquies and his dialogues with some imaginary being, without our hearts being touched by it. Nor have we observed the flush which crossed his face when finding himself betrayed, without seeing in it the delicacy and propriety of the after man.

A man may have many vices upon him, and have walked long in a bad course, yet if he has a love of children, and can take pleasure in their talk and play, there is something still left in him to act uponsomething which can love simplicity and truth. We have seen one in whom some low vice had become a habit, make himself the plaything of a set of riotous children with as much delight in his countenance as if nothing but goodness had ever been expressed in it; and have felt as much of kindness and sympathy toward him as we have of revolting toward another who has gone through life with all due propriety, with a cold and supercillious bearing towards children, which makes them shrinking and still. We have known one like the latter attempt, with uncouth condescension, to court an open-hearted Ichild who would draw back with an instinctive aversion; and we have felt as if there were a curse upon him. Better to be driven out from among men than to be disliked of children.

THE HOME OF TASTE.-How easy it is to be neat-to be clean. How easy to arrange the rooms with the most graceful propriety. How easy it is to invest our houses with the truest elegance. Elegance resides not with the upholsterer or the draper; it is not put up with the hangings and curtains; it is not in the mosaics, the carpetings, the rosewood, the mahogany, the candelabra, or the marble ornaments; it exists in the spirit presiding over the apartments of the building.

HE who has not a good memory should never take upon him the trade of lying.-Montaigne.

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Pour'd from the villages, a numerous train
Now spreads o'er all the fields.
In form'd array
The reapers move, nor shrink for heat or toil,
By emulation urged. Others dispersed
Or bind in sheaves, or load or guide the wain
That tinkles as it passes. Far behind,
Old age and infancy with careful hand
Pick up each straggling ear.

THIS interesting scene is beheld in full perfection only in the open-field countries, where the sight can at once take in an uninterrupted extent of land waving with corn, and a multitude of people en

gaged in the various parts of the labour, There is no prospect more generally pleasing than this, and which affords a more striking example of the effect of associated sentiments, in converting into a most delightful view that which, in itself considered, is certainly far inferior in variety and beauty to what is daily passed by with indifference or even dis gust.

The gathering in of the harvest is a scene that addresses itself not so much to

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