COUNTRY GIRLS.

Last May a braw wooer cam down the lang glen,

And sair wi' his love he did deave me,

I said there was naething I hated like men,

The deuce gae w'im, to believe me.-BURNS.

OLD JAMES HOWELL tells, in his familiar letters, of an Indian princess, who, when instructed by a friar of the joys of heaven, and that all good Spaniards went thither after this life, answered, "Then I do not desire to go, if the Spaniards be there; I had rather go to hell, and be free of their company." I hope my fair readers of the city, have not a dislike quite so strong as this to their cousins of the country. True, it is awkward enough at the ball, or the party, or the sumptuous dinner, to be always obliged to introduce Miss Nancy to every stranger she wishes to know, and to for ever stand by to correct the faux pas of country tone and manner she is perpetually making; and thither we will not take her. But let us go to her home, for there the joy of the visit will be mutual,— hers in the love of all who claim kin to the old sire she venerates, yours in the fresh air of the blue mountains, and the warm hospitality of kind simple hearts.

I know the house is old and gable-roofed, and the chairs and tables tell of twice two score years they have borne the burden of welcome guests and thrifty larder! The low studded rooms too, are all out of date, and, like enough, shepherds and swains are still singing their amorous ditties to the love-sick damsels on the blue window hangings, as they did forty years ago; the pictures are ancient and browned by smoke; the china is out of date; and steel-tined forks defy all your art to make them supersede the knife! But what of it all? Happiness is here,-happiness too, of which you can partake, be you ever so fastidious; for neatness and abundance, good taste and cheerfulness, preside over the whole.

Let it be the first morning of your visit. Betimes, long before you think of rousing yourself from the delicious morning sleep, the girls are up and at their several duties. One superintends the dairy, and as the the maids bring in the full, frothed pails, she dusts each pan, strains out the milk, and sets them in long rows on the white scoured shelves. The rich cream is skimmed; the laggard riser from bed among the workmen, is detained behind from the field, to pay his forfeit, in laboring at the churn; the cheese is curdled and prepared for the press; and the golden butter is worked, and stamped, and carefully set away, before the cloth has been laid for breakfast. Another oversees the kitchen, gives all her directions for the day, supervises the preparations for the morning meal of the

workmen, arranges, prepares, directs, and executes, with the skill of a practised house-wife. A third sweeps the parlors, dusts the furniture, spreads the table, arranges the flowers, winds the clock, and finds a thousand duties, which the unpractised would never suspect.

Then comes the breakfast, and around it fragrant steams of coffee, and toast, and rich Indian bannocks; come no half-shut eyes and dawdling figures, too near akin to the stifled air of the just left bed chamber, to join well with pleasant food and cheerful thoughts; but bright faces meet you, and laughing voices wake you, to the morning greeting. I love the country for this, above all things else, and who does not? Save me, ye morning deities, from the untwisted papillote, left in haste or forgetfulness on the scarce uncapped head;— from the loose wrapped robe, so illy concealing what we would not know, that fancy depicts in spite of us, the slip-shod foot and unguarded stocking. Give me, with my tea and toast, an eye clear enough to reflect the morning light; a cheek ruddy from its fresh air; an unwrinkled brow and a tidy, buxom figure! Give me health and cheerfulness before every fashionable grace; good taste and love of home's mystic circle, above all the factitious accomplishments which modern education bestows.

The breakfast over, a thousand duties present themselves to the eye of the practised house-wife." Each female member of the household, as before, knows the

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particular department which she is to superintend. a party is in expectation, or guests are looked for from abroad, unusual occupations employ each willing hand. To preside over the culinary operations, to be familiar with the secrets of the pantry, to be, in fact, adepts in every domestic art, is not, to our fair country girls, ob solete or degrading. They feel accountable for the excellence of every dish; they smile in conscious triumph at the praises of the puddings and the sauces; they are proud of the cookery of the rare sirloin, and tender leg of mutton, and well-browned turkey; nor do they blush to embellish the table with juices and confections, jellies and omelettes, from their own skilful handy work.

Let it not be supposed, however, that country girls are familiar in the mysteries of the ménage alone. I could take the reader to one home, among the rich landholders of the country, and it is of those I speak now, where the female members are not busy, bustling house-wives alone, jingling a bunch of keys, scolding the servants, and boasting only of tidy rooms and wellcooked dinners; but where education and refinement are found; where each station is filled with dignity, and each duty performed with pleasure; where unobtrusive good breeding, without affectation and without constraint, characterizes the whole social circle. And there are thousands of such homes in New England, enclosing comforts and pleasures within their hallowed limits, which city life, in its best and loveliest forms,

cannot afford; and shedding over her bleak, barren bills, a light, caught from the old Puritans, and brightening in the improvements of each successive age. Gentleness dwells in these homes,-gentleness, the talisman of woman's power,—and elegance, setting off | each charm, and investing each with its own appropriate hue,—and true and cultivated taste, shedding a halo of grace and beauty around the pleasant hearth. There is to be found the true end of wealth in the cultivated mind and polished manners; in books, and horticulture, and choice collections of the kindred arts; and above all, in religion, the religion of fervor and affection, spiritualizing the movements of the heart, and ennobling the action of life.

But there are other homes in New England, where these last are not all found, and yet where peace and contentment are willing guests. If you would find them, go to the quiet hamlets under the mountains, and you shall discover on many hearths, such light as blesses the poor man in his pilgrimage, and teaches him to be happy and cheerful in the midst of wearisome and unending labor. The good wife's wheel still twists the hank of flax, and the daughter renders each day her fifteen knots of well-spun yarn, as the sun goes down in the west. The loom still plies its old cumbrous frame, creaking in all its joints as warp and filling join hand in hand, from the proceeds of which come frocks, and coats, and trowsers-the flannel petticoat and lindsey-woolsey gown, as in days gone by.