learn his own trade of a weaver and if, at the end of a year, he should become sufficiently skilful to maintain himself by the labour of his hands, he would bestow upon him his daughter, with some portion of the savings of an industrious life. The youth gladly assentedz and the next morning saw him at the loom, a docile and zealous apprentice gilt bus years dt to ar į bed is of mid

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Henry loved too sincerely to relax in his exertions ; and Margaret's smiles s made the twelvemonth appear but a term of short probation. At the end of that period the father called the anxious pair around him; and with a laughing countenance exhibited an exact account of Henry's daily earnings. He left his daughter and him she loved to decide for themselves. Henry added his pension to the amount. If a rigid prudence should yet have paused, it might be forgiven that the confidence of youth and affection permitted no longer deliberation. They fell at the old man's feet, and implored his blessingel of encicab Henry having asked Sandford's permission to fix the day of his mar riage, requested him to assist in choosing a place for their future abode. The father smiled at the little preparation for so important a change; but, taking the young people each by the hand, he led them down the village. He stopped before a neat cottage. The garden bore the marks of recent attention; the walls were trimly whitened; the inte rior was comfortably furnished ;--but there was no one within., Margaret at once comprehended that her father's careful kindness had provided them this snug and quiet home. She fell upon his neck ;-while Henry kissed his hand. It was the happiest day of the good old man's life.

Tranquillity and content, such as Henry and Margaret enjoyed in their union, do not admit of long description. Nature has implanted in all hearts the desire for domestic comfort;-and if vicious thoughts and habits have not obliterated or deadened this desire, all are capable of painting for themselves a representation of wedded happiness. The youthful pair whose simple annals" claim our attention had become parents. There was still no alteration in their outward circumstances, nor in their inward satisfaction. A second child was born. At this period their prospects became saddened, by the depression of wages, and the difficulty of obtaining work, Henry's earnings were every day less and less and the means, which his father-in-law passessed of rendering him assistance became diminished from the same cause. He saw, poverty quickly approaching;and he had not resolution enough to ward off the evil by any extraordinary exertion.

The hour of distress is not, seldom an hour of temptation. As Henry had less occupation at, home, he became restless and discontented he could not endure, either the studied attempts of his wife to hide her despondency, nor the settled melancholy of her father. He became acquainted with workmen whom the same cause had partially thrown out of employ. Their earnings were little ;but they too often sought to dissipate even their contracted means in those feverish enjoyments, which in the noisy revelry of the day shut out the cheerless anticipa tions of the morrow. They became involved too in political contro

versies; and Henry's superior acuteness created in him the false ambition to direct the opinions of men whose sudden privations had unfitted them for a calm and dispassionate judgment. He acquired a violent and sullen hatred of the social institutions of his country, and ascribed all his own wants, and all the misery which he sa saw around him, to the unfeeling selfishness of the great and the powerful. The of her father

enduring patience of his wife the mild resi deserted his

the good old man, Henry engaged in alien to his wife .coviscmon) not oblo

became to him the most cutting reproaches. He homes His family came to be wholly dependent on who willingly shared with them his last shilling. secret and desperate machinations. He became an and his children. În of After an absence of a fortnight, in which he had spent his quarter's pension in frantic riot, the unhappy man returned dejected and almost furious to his once happy but now wretched cottage. He entered abruptly. His pale and half-famished wife shrieked, and fell at his feet. He restored her to sense, and inquired for his children. Margaret could only answer by her tears. He asked for her father; the unhappy woman was more and more overpowered by her emotions. Henry rushed out of his cottage to ascertain the full extent of his misfortunes. An agonizing truth was proclaimed to him; his youngest child was dead; his Margaret's father was in prison. A crowd of heart-rending and contending feelings came upon him. He returned almost in madness to his home. A gleam of penitence burst upon his soul; he fell at his wife's feet, and prayed aloud.

After a night of self-reproach, and of despair, Henry at last acquired something like consistency of determination. He rose in the morning, and having bestowed upon his Margaret a kiss, which spake more than words, he set forward to a neighbouring town. He entered the house of a great manufacturer, of whose humanity he had heard mention even from his misguided companions. He obtained access to him and with a fervour and simplicity which commanded attention, related the story of his happiness, of his misfortunes, of his vices, of his family's overpowering wretchedness. He sought employ. The manu facturer was of a generous and a confiding temper; he had seen much of human nature;-but he had looked upon the dispositions of mankind with a too wise benevolence to distrust every narrative of distress, or to doubt every profession of good intentions. He took Henry by the hand he gave him employ as a workman;-he elevated him in a few weeks to a situation of confidence. Henry returned to his home every night ;-but he did not return to repose and inaction. A temporary revival of trade again called the weavers into employ-and Henry's shuttle was in motion when the village was at rest, and before its waking. His health suffered-but his spirits rose. The bloom of content again came into his Margaret's cheek for her love was not chilled by neglect or unkindness. Their cottage again wore an aspect of comfort; and Margaret only sighed for her father's misfortunes. At the end of a twelvemonth Henry requested of his master a day's leave of absence, and informed his wife that he was about to make a

and we believe this is something more than poetical truth. The habit of looking upon the face of creation with delight will have a wonderful effect in inducing us to think every thing delightful; and if a love of exercise should call us every day into the fields, we may come to believe that a gloomy sky hath its beauties, a lowering mist its grandeur, a piping wind its solemn music, and a piercing cold its healthfulness and invigoration. The fogs during this month and the next are more frequent and thicker than at any other period of the year. The reason of this will be evident from considering the cause of fogs. There is a constant and very large exhalation from the surface of the earth at all seasons, of water in the form of vapour; and the warmer the ground, the greater will be the evaporation. When the air is warmer, or even but. eslo little colder than the earth, the ascent of vapour is not perceptible to the eye; but when the temperature of the air is considerably lower, the vapour as soon as it rises is deprived of part of its heat, the watery particles are brought more into union, and they become visible in the form of steam11 ; it is also essential to the formation of fog that there should be little or no wind stirring, in order that the rising exhalations

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may have full opportunity to condense. The heat of the middle of the days in Autumn is still sufficient to warm the earth and cause a large ascent of vapour, which the chilling frosty nights, which are also generally very calm, condense into mists; differing from clouds only in remaining on the surface of the ground...

"

The trees have scarcely in this month begun to shed their leaves but their rapidly changing colours indicate that their vegetation has ceased, and that, the rains and winds will soon leave the trunks and branches in their wintry bareness. The varied tints of the woods constitute one of the principal beauties of Autumn; and if the Spring has joy and hilarity in its freshness, the Autumn has a contemplative and sober delight in its decay. A walk into the country is still pleasing, from the agreeable objects which are, yet presented, to us. The hedges are no longer bright, and blooming the dog-rose and the honeysuckle no longer bestow their fragrance; but the blackberries hang in ripening clusters about us, to afford a treat to the school-boy, and a meal to the linnet and the hips and haws, while they sparkle on every briar, teach us how kindly provident is the Author of all good, for the preservation of the humblest of his creatures.

Nor are the sounds which were wont to greet us in our walk yet altogether passed away. It is true the autumnal voices of the singingbirds are almost hushed ;-but then the rooks, by their cries, which are neither unmusical nor unenlivening, call us to look at their singular mode of gathering together of an evening, after their daily excursions. There is an evident purpose in their rapid and sportive flights;-and their cawings, whether they speak the language of congratulation or of rejoicing, of command or of obedience, have something social and cheerful in them, and seem to belong to a well-ordered and happy community.

The rough winds, which are so common at this period of the year, manifestly assist in the work which Nature is now performing in various ways that of scattering the seeds of future vegetation about the earth. An examination of many common plants will at once show how this scattering or dissemination is contrived. Many seeds are furnished with plumes or wings;-and these belong to the plants which are most general-such as dandelion, groundsel, ragwort, thistles, &c. These are borne upon the winds far and wide; and hence the necessity of cutting those plants which are injurious to agriculture, before this business of dissemination begins. Other plants, such as common burs, contain seeds which are furnished with hooks, and thus laying hold upon passing animals, are scattered in distant places. Many seeds are contained in berries, which being eaten by birds, the seeds are discharged uninjured; and others again are thrown out from their parent plant by strong elastic springs, with which their receptacles are provided. The admirable ingenuity, the precision, the regularity, with which all the operations of Nature are conducted, must fill the mind with reverence and admiration of the great Contriver;-His glory and His wisdom are as manifestly displayed in the meanest flower of the field, as in the whole visible universe. The world 02 16 3150 sa bizode

is a collection of wonders;-and the pettiest production which forms a part of it is a world of wonders within itself.

A singular appearance sometimes presents itself in this month, caused by spiders' webs crossing the paths, extending from shrub to shrub, and floating in the air. This appearance is called gossamer, and is caused by an infinite multitude of small spiders, which, when they want to change their place, have a power of shooting forth several long threads, to which they attach themselves, and thus becoming buoyant, are carried gently through the air as long as they please; after which, by coiling up their threads, they descend very gradually to the ground. A remarkable shower of gossamer is described in the following quotation from White's Natural History of Selborne: On September 21, 1741, being intent on field diversions, I rose before day-break. When I came into the enclosures, I found the stubbles and clover-grounds matted all over with a thick coat of cobweb, in the meshes of which a copious and heavy dew hung so plentifully that the whole face of the country seemed, as it were, covered with two or three setting nets drawn one over another. When the dogs attempted to hunt, their eyes were so blinded and hoodwinked, that they could not proceed, but were obliged to lie down and scrape the incumbrances from their faces with their fore-feet."" As the morning advanced, the sun bes came bright and warm, and the day turned out one of those most lovely ones, which no season but the Autumn produces; cloudless, calm, se rene, and worthy of the south of France itself."

"About nine, an appearance very unusual began to demand our attention, a shower of cobwebs falling from very elevated regions, and continuing without any interruption till the close of day. These webs were not single filmy threads, floating in the air in all directions, but perfect flakes or rags; some near an inch broad, and five or six long. On every side, as the observer turned his eyes, might he behold a continual succession of fresh flakes falling into his sight, and twinkling like stars as they turned their sides towards the sun. Neither before nor after was any such shower observed; but on this day the flakes hung in the trees and hedges so thick, that a diligent person might have gathered baskets full."

As Nature employs herself in preparing for future production by the dispersion of seeds, so does the farmer this month sow his corn for the coming year. If the weather is too wet, he ploughs up the stubblefields for winter-fallow. This is the season too for planting fruit and forest trees. There is something at once pleasing to our self-love, use ful to our families, and of benefit to our country, in the planting of trees. It is an increase of national wealth of the very best kind. The cottager who puts an apple-tree into his little garden, or an elm or an ash into his hedge, is a patriot in his way,-and has done something to leave the earth better than he found it.

EDITOR-K.