I did not covet them; but oft, But soon a time of triumph came, For Sickness o'er my sister's form "T was then, unwearied, day and night, I watched beside her bed, And fearlessly upon my breast I pillowed her poor head. She lived, she loved me for my care; I was a lonely being once, T. H. BAYLY. LESSON CXXVI. POOR MARGARET. YES, it would have grieved Your very soul to see her: evermore Her eyelids drooped, her eyes were downward cast; She did not look at me. Her voice was low, No heaving of the heart. Still she sighed, While by the fire We sat together, sighs came on my ear, I knew not how, and hardly whence they came. Ere my departure, to her care I gave, For her son's use, some tokens of regard, Which, with a look of welcome, she received; In God's good love, and seek his help by prayer. I returned, And took my rounds along this road again, She knew not that he lived; if he were dead, The floor was neither dry nor neat; the hearth Once again, Toward the garden gate I turned, and saw, Poor Margaret is dead! The light extinguished of her lonely hut, O sir! the good die first, And they whose hearts are dry as summer dust, But he was welcome; no one went away, She was a woman of a steady mind, WORDSWORTH LESSON CXXVII. THE THREE PAINTERS. FIRST, Fancy seized the brush, and well As beautiful as if Heaven's bow And not a trace remained to show Next, Feeling, from the heart's rich store, And never sunset clouds could wear More deep and gorgeous dyes. "These will not fade." E'en while she spoke, Her own rude touch effaced All that with so much anxious skill The pencil's art had traced. Then Memory came; with dark, cold tints, The scenes of many a vanished joy, MRS. EMBURY. LESSON CXXVIII. TEA-PARTIES IN NEW YORK. THE company commonly assembled at three o'clock, and went away about six; unless it was in winter time, when the fashionable hours were a little earlier, that the ladies might get home before dark. The tea-table was crowned with a huge earthen dish, well stored with slices of fat pork, fried brown, cut up into morsels, and swimming in gravy. The company, being seated around the genial board, and each furnished with a fork, evinced their dexterity in lanching at the fattest pieces in this mighty dish; in much the same manner as sailors harpoon porpoises at sea, or our Indians spear salmon in the lakes. Sometimes, the table was graced with immense apple-pies, or saucers full of preserved peaches and pears; but it was always sure to boast an enormous dish of balls of sweetened dough, fried in hog's fat, and called dough-nuts, a delicious kind of cake, at present scarce known in the city, excepting in genuine Dutch families. The tea was served out of a majestic, delft tea-pot, ornamented with paintings of fat, little, Dutch shepherds and shepherdesses tending pigs, with boats sailing in the air, and houses built in the clouds, and sundry other ingenious Dutch fantasies. The beaux distinguished themselves by their adroitness in replenishing this pot, from a huge, copper tea-kettle, which would have made the pigmy macaronies of these degenerate days sweat merely to look at it. To sweeten the beverage, a lump of sugar was laid beside each cup; and the company alternately nibbled and sipped with great decorum, until an improvement was introduced by a shrewd and economic old lady, which was, to suspend a large lump directly over the teatable, by a string from the ceiling, so that it could be swung from mouth to mouth. At these primitive tea-parties, the utmost propriety and dignity of deportment prevailed. No flirting nor coquetting, no gambling of old ladies, nor hoiden chattering and romping of young ones; no self-satisfied struttings of wealthy gentlemen, with their brains in their pockets, nor amusing conceits, and monkey. divertisements, of smart young gentlemen, with no brains at all. On the contrary, the young ladies seated themselves demurely in their rush-bottomed chairs, and knit their own woolen stockings; nor ever opened their lips, excepting to say, "Yes, sir," or "Yes, madam," to any question that was asked them; behaving, in all things, like decent, well educated damsels. As to the gentlemen, each of them tranquilly smoked his pipe, and seemed lost in contemplation of the blue and white tiles, with which the fire-places were decorated. The parties broke up without noise and without confusion. They were carried home by their own carriages, that is to say, by the vehicles nature had provided for them, excepting such of the wealthy as could afford to keep a wagon. The gentlemen gallantly attended their fair ones to their respective abodes, and took leave of them at the door. W. IRVING. ON TASTE AND BEAUTY IN DRESS. In no way have civilized beings played more fantastic tricks, than in the matter of dress. The influence of fashion is so strong in corrupting the eye, and perverting the taste, that it has led some persons to doubt the existence of any true standard of beauty in costume. There are, however, some forms of dress which appear beautiful to us, after they have ceased to be the reigning mode. These are in general simple and unpretending. The occasional triumph of good taste over fashion is shown by the frequent return of pretty shapes. I would have young people look at every thing with an eye of taste, and so modify their compliance with the prevailing mode, as not to sacrifice to it their sense of beauty. Mere fashion should never be allowed to triumph over common sense or good taste. Neither do I mean to recommend a wide departure from it. Ingenuity should be called up to invent a modification, which shall combine beauty with fashion. I have seen two young ladies with equal pretensions to personal beauty, one of whom was arrayed in a French embroidered cape, that cost twenty-five dollars; while the other was |