"How stands the difference now? Many of the factory girls wear gold watches, and an imitation at least, of all the ornaments which grace the daughters of our most opulent citizens. And it is chiefly the extravagance of those who will, in our country, whatever is their station or employment, follow the fashions, which makes the danger of introducing an expensive style of dress, and the luxury of costly furniture, as the standard of fashion and necessary concomitant of wealth, taste, and respectability.

It is not to be expected nor even wished, that the rich should forego the advantages which wealth, honestly acquired or inherited, affords-that they should practice the self-denial which poverty imposes, while the means for gratification of every wish is at their command.

"They ought not to be required, even by the most rigid interpretation of republican principles, to do this. But they should be censured when their influence, the manner in which they expend their wealth, operates to introduce among us the love of idle extravagance in dress, expensive luxuries in living, and that effeminancy in mind and manners which always follows in the train of sensual indulgences.

"Let the rich, and those who affect to be rich, (much the largest number,) and who would, therefore, be the distingues of society, raise their ambition to a higher display than this outward show which may so easily be imitated. Let them make refined and exalted intellectual attainments the standard of rank, if they wish for a distinction permanent as well as conspicuous. They have the means of collecting libraries, leisure for reading, opportunities of travel, and a thousand other advantages of mental culture and refinement which those who must labour for a living cannot command. What a pity that they do not improve these advantages!

"It is a truth well known and deeply to be lamented, that the children of rich parents, though furnished with every facility for learning, are rarely among the best scholars at our schools and colleges. This does not happen because they are naturally dull; it is because they have received wrong impressions of the value of an education. They have not been taught to consider it absolutely necessary to their character and success in the world, but chiefly as an accomplishment which it was best to possess, but which could be dispensed with by those who had wealth sufficient to lead the fashions in dress and luxurious living.

"The youth, who has a fortune in expectation, if he see his parents only anxious about the display and importance of wealth, will not think it essential that he should toil in his studies, like the poor man's son, who must live by his profession.

"The miss, who is sent to school loaded with ornaments, fancies herself a young lady, and her vanity is so flattered by outshining her companions in dress, that she cares little for being called a dunce.

"Now, these faults of the children are entirely owing to an erroneous system of domestic training; and the mischief has, nine times in ten, been wrought by the mother. She has permitted them to know that the display of wealth was her chief concern, her idol; this has made her sons dandies and spendthrifts, and her daughters coquettes and worshippers of fashion. "When the fortune, which imparted this self-conse

these gaudy, superficial, useless fine ladies and gentlemen, are the most insignificant, helpless, and miserable beings in our country. Such reverses are not only probable in theory, but they are of very common occurrence. One would think that the fear of such misfortune would be sufficient to check the pride which is fostered merely by wealth; and would fill the heart of every mother, capable of reflection, with anxiety for her children in proportion to the temptations to extravagance and indolence by which they may be surrounded.

"Let the mother, then, train her offspring to feel that they can claim the first station in society, only because their wealth gives them greater advantages to acquire knowledge, and more leisure to cultivate and refine their taste; that, consequently, they will be expected to excel in intellectual pursuits as well as in the graces of behaviour; and that the mediocrity in science and general intelligence, which would be excusable in those less favoured, will be a deep and indelible reproach to them. Teach young persons to feel and reason thus, and there is little danger that riches will corrupt them.

"There are ladies whose ambition it is to lead in society, and who have the talents and wealth to do it. Let them begin the reformation in our fashions and manners, and they will enjoy a most enviable distinction-that of benefactors to their country. Let them appear in plain and simple attire; and make the eclat of their social parties consist in brilliant conversation, rather than curious confectionary. They need be under no apprehension of losing caste. The only real rank consists in superior virtue, intelligence, and good breeding. It is much more difficult to imitate the graces and the charm which a cultivated mind and taste can throw around the most simple amusement, than to ape the show of profusion and extravagance. It is easier for the rich vulgar lady to choose diamonds than to "speak pearls."

"We are republicans, but we need not be levellers. The constant effort of every American should be to elevate and improve his or her own character; not to war against those who by their superior talents, intelligence, industry, and perseverance, are pressing onward the first in the race, and setting an example of excellence as well as eminence.

"The honour of our nation is not delegated to the keeping of the few. Every individual should feel ambitious of doing something to advance the prosperity, the happiness, or the glory of the republic. It is true, that the rich have now the noblest opportunity of doing good, by giving that direction to public sentiment which the present crisis would set in the fairest light. The people are generally convinced that "speculations," and the extravagance it usually induces, are great evils. Let those who have the means of continuing this career of folly, set the fashion of simplicity in costume and domestic arrangements; and make the adornments of mind, not matter, the object of their study and pursuit. Intellectual pleasures are cheap, compared with the indulgence of personal vanity and display.

"I am not advocating what is termed bluestockingism. No one can dislike a thorough dogmatical, dictatorial, demonstrating, metaphysically learned lady, more sincerely than I do. But it is necessary, if men would improve, that women should be intelligent, and value good morals and great talents above

mere wealth and show. The contagion of folly, which a vain, rich, fashion-worshipping, fine lady, scatters around her, like an atmosphere, brilliant but blinding, is more injurious to the morals and happiness of society, than have ever yet been the sophisms of a Wolstoncraft, or Wright, or any of their imitators."

"Bravo!" cried Charles Howard, clapping his hands in high glee. "You shall be elected Grand Lecturer to the ladies of America. I did not before know that you bestowed such serious thoughts on the fair sex."

"Why, Charles, how can you talk so!" exclaimed Mrs. Marvin. "You know that the schoolmaster prepared this at my request."

"We usually have some individual in mind when we speak in general terms," said the schoolmaster. "Yet, I expressed my own ideas and principles; if these are in unison with your sentiments, Madam, I shall feel sure they are right."

"They are, they are," said Mrs. Marvin, earnestly. "And I wish that every lady in our country could hear you this evening. I think they would take your advice for the coming year."

"What would the merchants do?" said Charles. "And the milliners?" said Ellen.

"Oh, the milliners will lose nothing," said the schoolmaster. "They must only expend more taste and less trimming on their dresses; and the merchants too, will be gainers; the honest ones I mean, if they only import what they can pay for, and for which they receive payment. These speculations, panics, and suspensions are a heavy tax on the mercantile community—the honourable merchants, I mean."

"If their wives and daughters thought as we do, these hard times would soon be over," said Mrs. Marvin.

"I wish the ladies would try your plan, if only for its novelty," said Ellen. "Only think of the discussions we should have about simplicity in costume, and the study it would cost to attain the art!"

Yes; it needs only money to dress fine; it would require mind to appear elegant in simple attire," said the schoolmaster.

"And think of the plates of fashions,'" continued Ellen. "No one would then take the Lady's Book' for the sake of these."

"Perhaps not-but as the ladies would have more leisure for reading, if they devoted less to fashions, there would be no falling off in the number of its friends," said Charles Howard. "Besides, the plates in that work would soon become most useful auxiliaries to the reform. They would show the beauty of simplicity. I motion," continued he, "that the proceedings of this New-Year at Home, be furnished for that work."

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"I second the motion," said the schoolmaster. "Do you allow ladies to vote?" said Ellen, as she and her mother held up their hands.

"Yes, at home-and they usually there carry the vote too," said the schoolmaster.

"The house is unanimous," said Charles. "As every private house, when deliberating on the public good, should be," said the schoolmaster. "But where is your story, that you promised to read us, Cousin Charles?" said Ellen.

"Oh, I will reserve it till our next evening at Home," said Charles Howard.

“Beautiful."

"How was she dressed?"

"With the utmost simplicity and neatness."

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It must have been Sarah; she dresses with great taste. Did the lady you met wear a black velvet mantilla, with a white hat and willow feather?"

"Pshaw! black velvet fiddlestick. Do you call that simplicity? No, the lovely creature I mean wore a little straw bonnet and a black silk apron; her dark hair was parted smoothly upon her snowy forehead; she had soft blue eyes, and a mouth like an opening rose-bud; now, can you tell me who she is ?"

"Oh," exclaimed Lizzy, "it must have been our Jessie."

"And pray, who is our Jessie?" asked her brother.

I have been told that he studied Latin and Greek, him, if possible, for college, while he carefully inin order that he might teach his son, and thus fit structed Jessie in all the branches he deemed essenwhich occurred not long since, when Jessie was tial to a good education. After her father's death, about eighteen years of age, she determined to fulfil his wishes respecting her young brother, and secure for him a collegiate education. She therefore adopted her present employment; she is a neat seamstress highly estimated, and she works for a few customers and an excellent dress-maker. Her services are who engage her, as we do, for several months togeis at all the expense of his education." ther. Her brother entered college last fall, and she

mit to a life of drudgery for such a purpose." "What a noble-minded girl she must be, to sub

could have obtained a situation as nursery-govern"She is the more praiseworthy, Fred, because she ness, which, according to módern notions, would have been far less degrading; but she refused it because it would prevent her from returning every night to her mother."

"Is she always cheerful and good humoured?" "She has one of the most winning tempers I ever

44

By Jupiter! if that girl is a seamstress, Fortune never made a greater mistake-it can't be."

66

Well, we can soon decide the matter, Fred; Jessie, is now at work in our little sewing room, as I am going up to give her some directions you and can accompany me."

Frederick Carleton obeyed his sister's suggestion, and sauntered into the room half hoping his sister was mistaken. But no; there sat the object of his admiration-there sat our Jessie, surrounded by pieces and patches, shaping and sewing with the utmost diligence, and scarcely raising her eyes from her work. Seating himself at a little distance, under pretence of waiting his sister's leisure, Frederick busied himself in studying the countenance of the unconscious girl.

66

Her features are not perfectly regular," thought he; "but what soft eyes she has; what a lovely mouth, and how beautifully her fine forehead shines out between those bands of raven hair; her voice too, is soft and low, an excellent thing in woman.' What a pity such a creature should be the slave of fashionable tyrants."

"Tell me," said he to his eldest sister, Mrs. De Grey, as he returned to the dining-room, "tell me who is our Jessie?'"

"Her story is soon told," said Mrs. De Grey, laughing, "and for your sake, my susceptible brother, I am sorry she is not a heroine of romance. Murray's father was a printer, who, meeting with Jessie a severe accidental injury, was confined to his bed for several years before his death, during which time his wife supported the family by seamstress work and dress-making. Mr. Murray was always a reading man, and after he was disabled, he diverted his weary hours by books and the education of his children. 1*

"She must be a lovely creature."

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good society, but if he abandon his business before his children are grown up, they are received, and his grand children finally rank among our first classes." "Provided they retain the fortune for which their grandfather toiled, I suppose, Julia. Well, I am glad to have the matter so satisfactorily explained, especially as we are the children of a mechanic."

"Heavens! Fred, how can you say so? father was an India merchant."

"True, my high-minded sister, but he began life in a cooper's shop down on the wharf where he afterwards built his stately stores. Many a good barrel has he headed and hooped; and I remember, when a very little boy, how I loved to play in the shavings. But that is thirty years ago, Julia, and I suppose that you think other people have forgotten it."

"I wish, Fred, you could forget it. It is not pleasant to have such things brought to light so late in the day. They cannot injure you nor me, but they may mar Lizzy's prospects."

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True, Lizzy might not be allowed to marry a mechanic's grandson if it were known that she was only a mechanic's daughter."

Frederick Carleton with some eccentricity possessed many excellent qualities. His father had bestowed on him all the advantages of a liberal education, and after completing his studies he had spent several years in Europe. While abroad his father died, and his elder sister married, so that on his return he found the old family mansion passed into other hands, and his favourite sister Lizzy, an inmate of Julia's stately mansion. His paternal inheritance insured him a competence, and he resolved to marry as soon as he should meet with a woman capable of realizing his notions of domestic happiness. It is not to be supposed that the rich and travelled Mr. Carleton, (whose three thousand dollars of yearly income was more than doubled by many-tongued rumour,) lacked opportunities of selecting a companion for life. But among the manoeuvring mammas and displaying daughters, he had as yet seen no one who equalled his ideas of womanly loveliness. A true American in feeling, he had lived long enough among foreign follies to despise them most heartily, and especially did he abhor this attempt to establish an exclusive system in society. "I am no agrarian," he would often say, "nor have I any utopian notions, of perfect equality; I am therefore aware that there must always exist different classes in society, such as working men and men of wealth, men gifted with intellect, and others only one remove from idiocy, but let us never acknowledge that worst of all tyrannies, an oligarchy of mere wealth. A man of enlightened mind and virtuous principles is my equal, whatever be his occupation, and whether his hand be hardened by the blacksmith's hammer, or soiled by the ink of the learned professions, it is one which I can grasp with respect."

His notions much displeased his fastidious sisters, and they took great pains to convince him of his folly. But it was in vain they tried to initiate him into the mysteries of modern fashion; he would neither conceal half his face beneath an overgrowth of moustache and beard, nor would he imitate the longeared asses of South America in the longitude of his superb raven rocks. He even refused to carry the indispensable cane, alleging that since such a sudden lameness had fallen upon the spindleshanked men of fashion, it was the duty of those who could still boast

The simple story of Jessie Murray had deeply affected Carleton, and the remembrance of her sweet countenance did not tend to decrease his interest. How much of self mingles in the best feelings of humanity! Had Jessie been a freckled, red-haired, snub-nosed girl, Fred would probably have soon forgotten her sisterly devotion, but she was too pretty to vanish quickly from his mind. Some how or other, it happened almost every morning that he found it necessary to see his sisters at an early hour, when he was sure of finding them in the sewing-room. His presence became at length quite unheeded by Jessie as well as by his sisters, and while he amused himself in romping with his little nephew, or quizzing the changes of fashion which usually occupied his sisters' thoughts, he had constant opportunities of studying the character of "our Jessie!" He noticed her quiet good sense, her fine taste, her cheerful manners, her unaffected humility, the patience with which she bore the caprices of his sisters, and he repeated to himself again and again, "What a pity she should be obliged to lead such a life."

One winter evening, as he was hurrying to an appointment, he met Jessie, who, with her bonnet drawn over her face, and her cloak wrapped closely around her, was hastening in an opposite direction. To turn and join her was his first impulse.

"Where are you going at so late an hour, Miss Murray?" he asked.

"Home," she replied, still hurrying onward.

"He is at New Haven college, sir. Mr. Carleton, let me beg you not to go out of your way for me."

Fred only answered by drawing her arm through his. Jessie at first seemed alarmed; but, re-assured by his respectful manner, she consented to accept his escort, and they soon reached her mother's door. The light of a cheerful fire gleamed through the half opened shutters, and as Fred looked in the room he could not avoid noticing the perfect neatness of its arrangement. But Jessie did not invite him to enter, and he unwillingly bade her good night, though he had a strong desire to take a seat beside that humble hearth. When next he met his sisters he told them of his adventure, and asked why they did not send a servant with the little seamstress.

"Lord, brother, what an idea!" exclaimed Lizzy. "I am sure she can take care of herself."

"Should you feel quite safe, Lizzy, if you were sent out to walk a mile at eight o'clock on a winter's night?"

No; but I have always been accustomed to a protector. Such poor girls as Jessie early learn to take care of themselves, and do not feel the same fears which ladies do."

“For shame!" exclaimed Frederick, “do you suppose that poverty blunts every perception, and destroys every delicate feeling. Faith, I believe the poor girl is more favoured than the rich in such respects, for I don't know one of your fashionable friends, Lizzy, who would shrink from taking my arm as modestly as our Jessie' did last night."

"Did you really give Jessie your arm, and escort her home?"

"I did; and when I saw the quiet, pleasant little parlour which she called home, I had a great mind to offer her my hand as well as my arm."

"Frederick, are you losing your senses? If I did not know you were jesting, I should think you had been taking too much wine!"

"I never was in a sounder state of mind, my dear sisters, and yet I declare to you I have a great mind to make little Jessie your sister-in-law-that is, if she will accept me."

"Come, come, Fred," interposed Mrs. De Grey, "you are carrying the farce too far; Lizzy is ready to cry with vexation."

"It is no farce, Julia, I am in earnest."

"For heaven's sake do not be such a fool; a pretty business it would be to introduce one of my hirelings as my sister. No, no, Fred, that won't do."

"You need not introduce her if you are ashamed of her. I dare say we should find society without your aid."

"It would be ruinous to all Lizzy's prospects."
66 How so?"

Why, do you suppose her rich admirer, Charles Tibbs, would marry the sister of a man whose wife had once been a seamstress?"

Frederick laughed heartily as he replied: "True, I had forgotten; Charles Tibbs is the grandson of old Toney Tibbs, who used to peddle essences about the streets, and of course is now good society. Well, I will not interfere with Lizzy's matrimonial speculations, so banish your fears."

"Oh, I have no fears about it, for with all your eccentricities I am sure you would never do any thing so degrading."

Notwithstanding her boasted confidence, however, Mrs. De Grey really felt considerable anxiety about the matter, and she determined to send Jessie out of the way, until her brother should have forgotten his transient fancy. Convinced that Jessie was utterly unconscious of Frederick's admiration, and unwilling to lose her services permanently, she thought of a plan which promised success, and she consulted Lizzy as to its possibility.

"Aunt Tabitha has sent to us to procure her a seamstress for a few weeks, suppose we induce Jessie to go; the poor thing needs country air, and it will be just the place for her."

Why, Julia?" asked Lizzy, with a smile, "because she needs country air, or because we need her absence?"

"Nay, Lizzy, it is no laughing matter. I want to send her out of Fred's way before she has any suspicion of his folly."

"But why send her to Aunt Tabitha?"

"Because Fred will never find her there; he is so terribly afraid of the old lady's sentimentalities that

he never visits her, and by the time Jessie returns, he will have some new folly to engage his attention."

The plan was matured; and Jessie, who really felt the need of change of air, or relaxation from her continual labours, consented to leave her mother for a few weeks. Accordingly, one bright spring morning a stage deposited Jessie at the gate of a neat oldfashioned cottage, which stood on the outskirts of a village about forty miles from the great metropolis.

"Where is our Jessie?" asked Fred, when he had watched in vain for her daily return to the little sewing-room.

"Lord, brother, do you think I keep a record of her engagements? When she has finished our work she goes somewhere else, and that is all I know about it."

The idea of that gentle creature being thus driven about from place to place, toiling day after day with her needle, and dimming her bright eyes over plaits and gathers, was extremely painful to Fred Carleton. The more he thought of it the more uneasy he became. Why should I hesitate," thought he, "I have seen all the prettiest girls in Lizzy's set, and I like Jessie Murray better than any of them: Seamstress-indeed! I wonder if Julia would like to hear that our own dear mother used to make six shillings a day by binding shoes when she was first married to the honest cooper, our father? Yet I should hate to mar Lizzy's plans; I wish I had some one to advise me. Now I think of it, I will go and see Aunt Tabitha; the dear good romantic old soul whom I used to ridicule so much, will now be my best counsellor." So, with his usual impetuosity, Fred started on a visit to Aunt Tabitha, leaving his sisters quite ignorant of his destination, and little dreaming of the unexpected pleasure that awaited him.

Dear old Aunt Tabitha! what a singular compound she was of good feelings and exaggerated sentiments. In early life she had been betrothed to one whose poverty was the only obstacle to their union. He had sailed for India, in the hope of bettering his fortunes, but he never returned, nor did any tidings of his fate ever reach his native land. The ship was missing-it had never reached its destined port, and the sea kept its own secret. Deeply tinged with the romance of warm hearted youth, and greatly addicted to novel reading, Aunt Tabitha had always lived in a world of the imagination, and the mystery which overhung the fate of her lover seemed to strengthen the romantic fervour of her nature. For some years after his disappearance, she never left her apartment, and it was only by awakening the charities of her kindly nature that she could be induced to take an interest in every-day life. She had grown old without having lost one atom of her early tendency to sentiment. Combining active benevolence with almost morbid sensibility, she was often a subject of ridicule to those who did not know her virtues, while she was sincerely loved by those who could forgive eccentricity in behalf of excellence. Fred Carleton, in his boyish days, had conceived a great dislike of her peculiarities, and unable then to appreciate her real goodness, was terribly bored by what he styled her “sentimentalities." But he had since learned to know her better, and her very foibles now seemed to render her better fitted to afford him counsel. What was the result of her advice?