were to be equal sharers in the flowers. It was therefore a trespass, and I was never disposed to put up with trespasses, however slight. My spirit rose immediately in high disdain: 1 threw away the garland I had commenced, and ran crying to my nurse, who was occupied with her knitting within the cottage.

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Marguerite was of the Reformed Church, and had long been a reader of the Bible: and by this means she became a very superior woman for her situation in life. She heard my complaint, she called my sister, and required her to make restitution.

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"O but, nurse,' she replied, 'I cannot: the flowers are wrought into my lovely garland, and it is for mamma.'

"But you have done wrong,' said the nurse: you have taken more of the flowers than were your just due. Here,' said she, are all the roses, the eglantines, and the white thorn, and you left none for your sister.'

"The little girl was immediately convinced of her delinquency, and, with a lovely smile, (for I remember it now,) she expressed her sorrow, and offered me her garland.

"I pushed aside the dimpled hand that held the garland to me. I did more: I seized the garland, and in anger threw it on the little fire which the nurse had lighted for warming the coffee, with which she was about to regale us. In a moment the glossy petals of each flower were shrivelled and blackened in the smoke, and their beauty passed away for ever. Eglantine looked for a moment on the destruction of her work, and then, bursting into tears, she concealed her face on the bosom of her nurse. I well remember the moment: the good Marguerite passed one arm round the waist of the little girl, and, extending the other towards me, she reproved me, in her way, with considerable displeasure, at the same time inviting me to draw near, and be reconciled to my sister. I, however, remained stubbornly fixed in the place where I was standing, till she caught my arm, drew me to her, and then, embracing us both, addressed me in a very serious manner upon the nature of the disposition I had evinced.

"This excellent woman had often taught me to pray; and it was then that she took occasion to explain to me that clause in the Lord's Prayer-'Forgive us our tres

passes, as we forgive them that trespass against us.' She represented to me, that the heart of the natural man, so powerfully inclined to sin, is incapable of that clemency which leads to the forgiveness of an injury. The unconverted man,' said she, may forget an offence, may also cease to feel its smart, or he may be influenced by another and a stronger feeling, which may lead him from the pursuit of revenge. This is the utmost the natural man can do; but he cannot forgive: for mercy is an attribute of pure and undefiled religion; it is a quality or principle of action bestowed only by grace, and is never possessed in any perfection but by those persons who, having been justified by Christ, are reconciled to the Father, and are at peace in their own minds. Thus we perceive the force of the prayer; and thus do we apprehend that our own forgiveness, and our forgiveness of others, are so connected, that the one is like the root, and the other the production, of the self-same tree.'

"I do not pretend to give the exact words which my nurse used on this occasion; but whatever words she might select, she undoubtedly contrived to convey the sentiment above expressed to my mind, to which she added some further remarks, which I also remember, but which, alas, have profited me little through life. She pointed out to me how it must happen that little offences would be given by one person to another in this world, and how much better and felicitous it was to pass over these offences, than to render them of importance by resentment; repeating the words of the wise man, to shew from whence thisresentment springs; Only by pride cometh contention: but with the well advised is wisdom; (Prov. xiii. 10.) and reminding me, how, in the present instance, from the smallest matter fierce anger had arisen between two children, brought up on the same knees, and fostered on the same breast. This scene concluded by a gush of tears from every eye, and the cordial reconciliation of all parties.

"And here I must pause, to make a few remarks respecting the propensity of human nature to take offence on trivial occasions. A word, a look, the neglect of a salutation, a smile out of place, have often produced a shyness among the dearest friends; and the very same persons who, from Christian principles, would not dare to

revenge themselves on a declared enemy, allow themselves to nourish uncharitable feelings, perhaps for years together, against an individual of their own families or their nearest neighbour! These things ought not so to be. (James iii. 10.)

"I recollect but few other scenes which passed in my infant days, worthy of record. When Xavier was fifteen years of age, he was enrolled in the army; and the same year my aunt died suddenly: on account of which my father took me to Paris, where he placed me as a pensioner in a Protestant school, to be perfected in those accomplishments which have long been thought indispensable to the lady of quality.

"It would have been well if I had learned nothing else but how to embroider flowers and play on the harp in this situation. But, alas! the society into which I was introduced in this school was corrupt in the extreme; and it was there that I formed a connexion which has shed its baneful influence over my whole life. This connexion was with a young woman, named Florence de Castres, who was some years older than myself, and who was one of those needy and ambitious persons who, having been brought up above their means and rank in society, are induced to exercise their craft and subtilty to support such pretensions.

"Florence was without beauty, and even without elegance or dignity; she had few acquirements, and no superior talents; and yet she had a remarkable influence over the minds of those whom she had once found means to draw within the circle of her fascinations, though her influence was generally greater with her own sex than with the other, which might perhaps be attributed to her want of personal advantages.

"This young woman soon found means to make herself almost necessary to me while I remained at school. She first patronized me as a junior and a stranger. I had a slight illness, and she paid me the most indefatigable attentions, even greater than the occasion needed. When I was a little better, she sat with me in my room, and embraced the opportunity to give me the history of every individual of the family, managing so artfully her short and animated recitals, that she contrived to set me against every person in

the establishment, without leaving me at all aware that she was thereby entwining her snares more and more firmly around my heart.

"At the end of two years, I was to return home, my father having engaged to come for me to Paris; and by this time I was become so deeply attached to Florence, that I had applied to my father for permission to bring her back with me, and make her my companion.

"This permission was granted by my indulgent parent; and Florence, who had no home and little fortune, heard of it with unfeigned delight, although she was careful not to let me suspect that this had been the object for which she had been manoeuvering ever since I had become known to her.

"When my father arrived, I was much struck with his appearance, which indicated a great failure not only of health but of spirits. He accounted for these symptoms, by informing me that my mother-in-law (to whom he was tenderly attached) was in a languishing condition, and that he feared he should soon be deprived of her. ingly, when we arrived at home, I saw an awful change in her appearance: death had already set his signet on her lovely face; and within a month we followed her to her grave.

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"Though every means had been used by my own mother's family and their adherents to prejudice me against this engaging lady, yet I must have had a heart of stone, had I not loved her; and therefore my grief at her death was sincere, though neither deep nor lasting.

"Persons of the strongest feelings are not always the most useful on occasions of sickness and death in families; while, on the other hand, those who neither can feel nor appear to feel excite only disgust and irritation. But Florence was neither of the one nor the other of these descriptions of persons. She undoubtedly had no deep feelings for any one but herself; but, on the other hand, she could seem to feel, she was active where exertion was wanting, and ready in dispensing her assistance when it suited her interest so to do. At this time, therefore, she made herself useful and agreeable, and won considerably on the affections of the family, although my nurse, who was with us at the castle for some months during our affliction, plainly told

me that she did not like her, and advised me not to give her my confidence, or to submit myself too much to her influence. 'I wish,' said Marguerite, that I did not see this violent attachment between you, Mademoiselle, and Mademoiselle de Castres. Have you not a sister much nearer your own age, and as much superior to Mademoiselle Florence, as the rose to the thistle? and yet you forsake your natural friend, the friend appointed by God, and unite your affections to a stranger, to one who may appear to be sincere, but of whom you can have no assurance.'

"I did not say that this very superiority of Eglantine was the real cause of my not seeking her friendship; for it was not only to Florence that I believed her superior, but, as I feared, to myself. However, I made no such confession as this to my nurse, nor indeed to myself; for those who are most subjected to feelings of an envious nature, are most backward in acknowledging them to their own hearts.

"There is, perhaps, no passion of the human heart which brings its own punishment more directly than envy. Where admiration exists without envy, it acts with a kind of magic influence (if I may be permitted to use the expression) on the admirer's mind, and the admired object soon begins to reflect its real or fancied glories in the character of its admirer. Hence, we often find the effect of female excellencies reflected on the husband or the brother (for envy of females is rarely met with in the other sex) in a most remarkable manner, while the same sweet influence is lost upon the sister, who looks on this superiority with an eye less free from the tinge of jealousy. Here, then, envy brings her own punishment, by preventing the happy influence which the contemplation of lovely objects very frequently insures, and by inducing the envious person to mingle with inferior society, he shuns the examples best suited for his imitation.

"If such, then, my reader, is the nature of envy, let me supplicate you to look into your heart, and seek the divine help to exterminate that enemy which made heaven itself a place of torment to the fallen angels, who were unable to contemplate the glory of God himself without such feelings of malignity as rendered it necessary that they