rapped him over the head, exclaiming tartly, "haven't I told you to wait till you're helped? Take that, now, and learn manners."

I allowed a minute and more to elapse, in order that my wife's ebullition might subside, when I remarked:

"Mrs. Mowbray, it seems, expected to meet her sisters here ?"

"I shouldn't wonder if she did," snappishly said Mrs. Jones, looking down in her plate, and apparently absorbed in parting a wing-joint.

nant.

"When she found," I continued, "that her sisters were not asked, she grew indigShe heard the reason, it seems. Your friend, Mrs. Wharton, whom you had made a confidant, told some lady, who told her; and hence her anger."

"I am sure I don't care if I never see the proud thing again," said my wife, reddening very much, but still without looking up. "One could not have supposed that she was a sister to the Misses Howell."

After another pause, I said: "Did you call on Mrs. Mowbray, as you intended?"

66

'Mrs. Jones was silent for a full minute, and seemed half disposed to decline answering altogether; but finally she blurted out the reply as follows:

"Yes I did, since you must know. And she wasn't in. So at least the footman said; but if I didn't see her at the drawing-room window," and here she burst into tears of mortification and rage, may I never eat another mouthful."

66

Of course the intimacy of my wife with Mrs. Mowbray ceased from the date of that fatal party, and, I am sorry to say, that the Misses Howell also have, as the phrase goes, "cut our acquaintance."

LEARN the value of a man's words and expressions, and you know him. Each man has a measure of his own for everything; this he offers you inadvertently in his words. He who has a superlative for everything, wants a measure for the great or small. Lavater.

MANNERS.

NEVER go up and down-stairs, or about the house, like a trotting horse; step lightly, quickly, and orderly.

Never drag, or go slipshod, with your shoes untied or down at the heel.

Never enter a house or parlour with your boots all slush and mud, or sit down with your hat or cap on, bar-room fashion.

Never stare people in the face. Are you conversing with any one, look him in the face with cheerful, dignified, respectful assurance; this is right; but to stare idly or wildly at strangers, or any one, as though you had never seen a human face, is exceedingly impolite, and a sure mark of ill-breeding.

Be polite, modest and respectful to every one, especially to your superiors: "Cha rity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own." What more unlovely, and painfully disgusting, than to see a youth, a mere stripling, assume an air of self-inportance, and disrespect towards his equals or superiors?

Never jerk, twitch, or slam doors, or window-shutters, or bring them to violently. Be cautious and gentle in all your movements; you may do serious mischief. We have known some little turbulents in passing out and in, shut the door with a slam-bang, give it a strong twitch, sufficient to shiver it! No polite or genteel boys and girls will do this.

Never be clownish or monkeyish! Some rude boys (not girls) seem to pride themselves in buffoonery or drollery, in low, vulgar tricks, antic gestures, foolish jesting, and odd expressions. This low, shameful vulgarity, may excite the laughter of fools, -as none but fools will laugh at foolishness-"for the mouth of fools feedeth on foolishness;" but every one of good common sense must look upon such behaviour with perfect disgust and abhorrence! And every youth, thus acting the buffoon or mimic, lowers himself in the estimation of the wise and the good.

THERE are some people well enough disposed to be grateful, but they cannot hit upon it without a prompter; they must be taught to be thankful, and it is a fair step if we can but bring them to be willing, and only offer at it.-Seneca.

THE BEACON.

The scene was more beautiful far to my eye,
Than if day in its pride had array'd it;
The land-breeze blew mild, and the azure-arch'd
sky

Look'd pure as the spirit that made it;
The murmur rose soft as I silently gazed

On the shadowy waves' playful motion,

From the dim, distant isle, till the beacon-fire blazed

Like a star in the midst of the ocean.

No longer the joy of the sailor-boy's breast
Was heard in his wildly-breathed numbers;
The sea-bird had flown to her wave-girdled nest;
The fisherman sunk in his slumbers:
One moment I look'd from the hill's gentle slope,
(All hush'd was the billow's commotion,)
And I thought that the beacon look'd lovely as
hope,

That star of life's tremulous ocean.

The time is long pass'd and the scene is afar,
Yet, when my head rests on its pillow,

Will memory sometimes rekindle the star
That blazed on the breast of the billow.

In life's closing hour, when the trembling soul flies,

And death stills the heart's last emotion, Oh, there may the Seraph of Mercy arise, Like the star on eternity's ocean.

SONNETS. BY MRS. HEMANS.

1.

TO A FAMILY BIBLE.

What household thoughts around thee, as their shrine,

Cling reverently!-Of anxious looks beguiled,
My mother's eyes upon thy page Divine
Were daily bent: her accents, gravely mild,
Breathed out thy lore;-whilst I, a dreamy child,
On breeze-like fancies wander'd oft away,
To some lone tuft of gleaming spring-flowers wild,
Some fresh discover'd nook for woodland play,
Some secret nest;-yet would the solemn word
At times, with kindlings of young wonder heard,
Fall on my waken'd spirit, there to be

A seed not lost; for which, in darker years,
O Book of Heaven! I pour, with grateful tears,
Heart-blessings on the holy dead and thee!

2.

THE LILIES OF THE FIELD.

"Consider the lilies of the field." Flowers! when the Saviour's calm, benignant

eye

Fell on your gentle beauty: when from you
That heavenly lesson for all hearts he drew,
Eternal, universal, as the sky;

Then in the bosom of your purity

A voice he set, as in a temple-shrine,

That Life's quick travellers ne'er might pass you by,

Unwarn'd of that sweet oracle Divine.
And though too oft its low, celestial sound
By the harsh notes of work-day care is drown'd,
And the loud steps of vain, unlistening haste,
Yet the great ocean hath no tone of power
Mightier to reach the soul, in thought's hush'd
hour,

Than yours, meek Lilies! chosen thus and graced.

LINES,

BY THE REV. CHARLES WOLFE. Oh, my love has an eye of the softest blue, Yet it was not that that won me;

But a little bright drop from her soul was there, "Tis that that has undone me.

I might have pass'd that lovely cheek,
Nor, perchance, my heart have left me;
But the sensitive blush that came trembling
there,

Of my heart it for ever bereft me.

I might have forgotten that red, red lip-
Yet how from the thought to sever;
But there was a smile from the sunshine within,
And that smile I'll remember for ever.
Think not 'tis nothing but mortal clay,-
The elegant form that haunts me :
'Tis the gracefully delicate mind that moves
In every step that enchants me.

• WOMAN'S HEART.

Say, what is woman's heart?-A thing
Where all the deepest feelings spring:
A harp, whose tender chords reply
Unto the touch in harmony;

A world, whose fairy scences are fraught
With all the colour'd dreams of thought;
A bark that still will blindly move
Upon the treacherous seas of love.
What is its love?-A ceaseless stream,
A changeless star, and endless dream;
A smiling flower that will not die-
A beauty and a mystery:

Its storms as light as April showers,
It joys as bright as April flowers,
Its hopes as sweet as summer air,
And dark as winter its despair.

What are its hopes?-Rainbows that throw
A radiant light where'er they go,
Smiling when heaven is overcast,
Yet melting into storms at last;
Bright cheats that come with syren words,
Beguiling it like summer birds,

That stay while Nature round them blooms,
But flee away when winter comes.
What is its hate?-A passing frown,
A single weed 'mid blossoms sown,
That cannot flourish there for long;
A harsh note in an angel's song;
A summer cloud, that all the while
Is lighten'd by a sunbeam's smile;
A passion that scarce hath a part
Amidst the gems of woman's heart.
And what is its despair?-A deep
Fever, that leaves no tears to weep:
A woe that works with silent power,
As canker-worms destroy a flower;
A viper that shows not it wakes,
Until the heart it preys on breaks;
A mist that robs a star of light,
And wraps it up in darkest night.
Then what is woman's heart?-A thing
Where all the deepest feelings spring:
A harp whose tender chords reply
Unto the touch in harmony;

A world whose fairy scenes are fraught
With all the colour'd dreams of thought;
A bark that still will blindly move
Upon the treacherous seas of love.

TRIFLES.

THE Limerick Journal observes that the best mode to prevent schoolboys from being drowned, is to take care that they be not suffered to go into

the water.

A young lady having given a gentleman, who was not very remarkable for his taste in dress, a playful slap on the face, he called out, "You have made my eye smart."-"Indeed!" said she. "Well, I am happy to have been the cause of making something smart about you."

THE celebrated Lord Faulkland being brought early into the House of Commons, a grave member objected to his youth, and said, "he looked as if he had not sown his wild oats."-The young Lord replied with great quickness, "Then I am come to the proper place, where there is a goose to pick them up!"

IN 1759, Dr. Hill wrote a pamphlet, entitled, "To David Garrick, Esq., the humble petition of I, in behalf of herself and Sister," the purport of which was to charge Mr. G. with misproBouncing some words including the letter I, as furm, vurtue, &c. The following answer was returned to Dr. H. by Mr. Garrick :

"If 'tis true, as you say, that I've injured a letter,

I'll change all my notes soon, and I hope for the

better;

May the just rights of letters, as well as of men, Hereafter be fix'd by the tongue and the pen! Most devoutly I wish they may both have their due,

And that I may be never mistaken for U."

A Frenchman being afflicted with the gout, was asked what difference there was between that and the rheumatism. "One very great deferance!" replied Monsieur. "Suppose you take one vice, you put your finger in, you turn de screw, till you bear him no longer-dat is de rheumatis-den, spose you give him one turn more, dat is de gout."

THE PERPETUAL COMEDY OF HUMAN LIFE. -The world is the stage-men are the performers. Chance composes the piece-Fortune distributes the parts. The fools shift the scenery -the philosophers are the spectators. The rich occupy the boxes-the powerful have their seat in the pit-and the poor sit in the gallery. The fair sex presents the refreshments-the tyrants Occupy the treasury bench-and those forsaken by Lady Fortune snuff the candles. Folly makes the concert-and Time drops the curtain.

A GENTLEMAN'S DIARY OF HIS WIFE'S TEMPER. -Monday.-A thick fog, no seeing through it. Tuesday.-Gloomy and very chiliy, unseasonable weather. Wednesday.-Frosty, at times sharp. Thursday.-Bitter cold in the morning, red sunset, with flying clouds, portending hard weather. Friday.-Storm in the morning with peals of thunder, air clear afterwards. Saturday.-Gleams of sunshine, with partial thaw, frost again at night. Sunday.-A light south-wester in the morning, calm and pleasant at dinner-time, hurricane and earthquake at night.

TREASURES.

CUSTOM, NOVELTY, AND OPINION. EXAMPLES do not authorize a fault. Vice must never plead prescription.

CUSTOM is the plague of wise men, and the idol of fools..

KNOWLEDGE is the treasure, but judgment the treasurer of a wise man.

MANY bad things are done only for custom, which will make a good practice as easy to us as an ill one.

IT is the common custom of the world to follow example rather than precept; but it would be the safer course to learn by precept rather than example.

No one can be in a more unhappy circumstance than to have neither an ability to give or to take instruction.

THERE is a sort of economy in Providence, that one shall excel where another is defective, in order to make men more useful to each other, and mix them in society.

Most men live according to opinion or fashion, which is full of variety, and therefore of perturbation; leaving the direct rule of wisdom, which renders us calm and serene.

THE most barren ground, by manuring, may be made to produce good fruits: the fiercest beasts by art are made tame; so are moral virtues acquired by custom.

Ir was a good reply of Plato, to one who murmured at his reproving him for a small matter: "Custom," said he, "is no small matter. A custom, or habit of life, does frequently alter the natural inclination, either to good or evil."

VICIOUS habits are so great a stain to human nature, and so odious themselves, that every person acted upon by right reason would avoid them, though he was sure they would always be concealed from God and man, and had no future punishment entailed upon them.

NOVELTY has charms that our minds can hardly withstand. The most valuable things, if they have for a long while appeared among us, do not make any impression as they are good, but give us a distaste as they are old. But when the influence of this fantastical humour is over, the same men or things will come to be admired by a happy return of our good taste.

WHETHER fondness of fashion, or love of vanity betrays men into the most mistakes, it is difficult to determine. The best things are slighted by some for mere antiquity, though founded upon authority and reason; and others maintain à veneration for whatever custom has established, though founded upon neither.

OPINION is the main thing which does good or harm in the world. It is our false opinions of things which ruin us. Nature has been extremely fruitful of wonders in the kingdoms that compose the British monarchy, and it is a rdiculous custom, that gentlemen of fortune should be carried away with a desire of seeing the curiosities of other countries, before they have any tolerable insight into their own. Travelling sometimes makes a wise man better, but always a fool worse.

EMBROIDERED COLLAR.

Materials.-A piece of very fine book-muslin, or French muslin, and Evans's embroidery cotton, No. 50.

The collar is of one of the newest Parisian shapes, and the design has been arranged especially for the readers of the Family Friend, being of a style that allows us to give a section the full size for working in our pages. The pattern consists of a series of vandykes, which are worked alternately in two different ways. An unequal number is, of course, required to make the ends correspond, and for a moderate sized collar fifteen will be required, whilst a large one will take seventeen. It will be observed that the vandyke at the end of the collar is rather different to the others. To prepare the pattern, first work the circle for the neck on a piece of tracing paper, taking the pattern from any collar you may have that fits well. Then trace the section given in the engraving, on a separate bit of paper.

Transfer that to the larger piece, and draw the remainder by shifting the pattern until one-half the collar is marked, then folding the tracing paper, and drawing the other half from it.

A perfect pattern being thus procured, the muslin is laid over it, and the design marked with indigo, using a very fine

sable brush.

The French oil silk, which is green on one side, and black on the other, is the nicest material to work on. The muslin must be tacked on it.

Trace the border first, and run the little button-hole scallops, which form the edge, about three times, taking the thread up the division of each vandyke, and back again to the edge, when doing it for the first time. Then work all the edge very evenly in scalloped button-hole stitch. When one point is done, run the thread up the division between that and the next one: work it down to the scallop again in common close button-hole.

The flowers are done in stitch; the small holes are pierced with a stiletto, but

work is extremely good, provided proper care is taken in the selection of the materials.

A bouquet of flowers made in crochet will form, therefore, an extremely pretty decoration for a drawing-room table; whilst they may also enter into the composition of various other ornaments. Small flowers, such as heart's-ease, may be arranged as a border for a mat; and the ingenuity of our readers will readily supply other modes of using the larger ones.

We shall give, very shortly, a pretty crochet flower-pot, in which a group of flowers may be arranged and placed under a glass case. At present we will describe the mode of making the narcissus; observing that it is of the utmost consequence to select the proper shades of wool, in order that the work may present a close imitation of nature.

MATERIALS.-Berlin wool of the follow