and now proceeded in great haste into the common counting-room, where the old gentleman sat beside the counter. -Frederick! Frederick! Frederick, exclaimed he, whilst he tore open again with violence the scarcely closed-to doors.

God be with us! said the old gentleman; what is the matter?-and took down his spectacles.

The son ordered a light for the seals, threw himself down to his writing-table, and muttered to the old gentleman sidewise the words: I have got to work-Letters to write.

So hastily said the old gentleman. I have repeated it to you already so often: considerate and uninterrupted labor is of more avail than working passionately and by impulses. -Yet it is true! 'Tis true! The sooner one gets rid of the work-table, so much the earlier

One comes to the gaming-table, he would have said; but because Frederick then entered with a light, so he recovered himself, and swallowed the word.

To whom are you writing then? he began again after a little while.

To Everard Born in S******.

The son?

The father's name is Augustus, not Everard.

Good! my compliments to him-I often think as yet of the journey last summer; wherein I became acquainted with him. He is indeed an excellent young man !

O yes! muttered the son to himself. Who were only

like him!

A regular, industrious, gentlemanly man, born as it were for a merchant. Full of spirit, to undertake any thing, but not without consideration; in his external appearance so becoming, so simple, no friend to velvet and embroidery, and, what I particularly estimate in him-no gamester. I think he would yet lose the first Solo* in his life. If he ever indeed plays, it is not in cards, but with his children. Oh and the old gentleman, his father! who can be a father to him so entirely out of a full heart he is a fortunate man I know fathers, continued he, in a little

That is, he has never played: if he should play and lose, it would be for the first time in his life.

T.

lower voice, who could sin against him, who could envy him.

Write, or said the son, whilst he punched one pen after another on the table, and threw them away.

The old gentleman looked at him a while.-Are you really quite as angry as it seems?

Who would not be so ? muttered the son again to himself.

Am I perhaps the cause? Have I not hit your taste?— He arose and went to his son's table.—I know, you are indeed, no friend to hints and allusions, and I can also speak plainly.

O there is no need of it, said the son, and wrote on.

The old gentleman took the pen gently out of his hand, cleaned it and laid it aside.—See! he then began: it is ever from day to day a source of vexation to me, that I must have for a son a man of so liberal a head and of so narrow a heart. A man, who for his finery, his pleasure, who in l'hombre and whist, trifles away one ducat after another, often also indeed, by the dozen who but only yesterday again has played until night-fall; and who, if he should have a smart run of business, would perhaps be master of not a single dollar; a man, who ever continues single, because no match is rich enough for him; and who yet has always enough left to support a gig, to ride about, to act the cavalier, and to wear velvet and embroidery. I cannot surely have done you injustice, he proceeded, after a short pause; for you cannot answer me.

O, I could, said the son, whilst he arose with passion;

but

Speak then! what hindered you?

By Heaven! I am tired of living on so

O that I dared to hope that!

I am now, methinks, a man, and no more a child. Wherefore am I still treated as a child?

Son! son! there are old children.

I am attentive; I neglect nothing that is to be done; I never lose sight of the esteem and respect toward you. Only obedience a little.

I conduct your business with honesty and fidelity; and yet-yet I cannot live a single hour in peace; yet is each moment of my existence embittered with reproaches with

out end; yet is every diversion, every poor pleasure grudged me.

You speak very harshly, but very true; every poor plea

sure.

Poor--because it costs me nothing; or but a little. What have I then as yet lost, if I have lost?

The most costly thing we have the time.

And shall I then have no enjoyment of my youth? Shall I always labor on as you do; support myself, confine myself even as you do? Shall I

Now, why hesitate? speak out!

Shall I save together by dollars in order to throw away by the hundreds?

To throw away, said the old gentleman, to whom nothing in the world seemed so insufferable, as that children should attempt to control the free use of a self-earned property.—Did I, indeed, think it, that the young man would yet become my guardian! To throw away! What do you mean by that. What do you call throwing away. Speak! -He went near him and seized him somewhat roughly by the arm. To hold open his purse to every honest man, who needs assistance; any thing like this?

Honest, said the son, with a moderately sunken voice; if they were all so !

Ó, I am still a little deceived. I comprehend my man first in the countenance, ere I give. And what do you call then throwing away-speak!

You lend to all-without having the least thing therefrom. Fool! without having the least thing therefrom.-He withdrew the hand from his arm, and gave him a look of contempt. I have this therefrom, to see that it goes well with my fellow-men. Do you consider this as nothing? And when at some future day they bear me down the long pathway (to the tomb) and I leave all behind me here, so I hope, there will be many a one to say with tears in his eyes: mercy upon the upright man! I have to thank him with my wife and children for my whole prosperity. I was in trouble, and I came unto him; then he helped up, and I was enabled to preserve my honor. With you on the contrary--Yet why stand I here and preach to the wind. Your head has at once its own philosophy; and would to God, that it were a more judicious one! But ever again to your work! Write! Write!

J. G. N.

REV. DR. CHANNING.

An elegant and very correct engraving of this eminent clergyman, by Hoogland, from a painting by Harding, now before us, affords the double opportunity of noticing the skill of the artist, and the well earned reputation of the divine. And first of the artist; of whose works generally our opinions must be predicated, on an occasional glimpse at his productions, rather than on a studied intimacy with his peculiar points. The engraving before us is a faithful representation of the original which we saw some time ago, and which we consider a striking likeness of one of the most celebrated divines that our country at present can boast. The peculiarly impressive expression, that mysterious combination of features, which all can so easily discern, and none can satisfactorily explain, is given with great fidelity; and this being the case, it is immaterial whether each particular feature is copied with that strictness of symmetry which would present an inanimate counterpart of an original. On the whole, we think that the friends of Dr. Channing are to be congratulated on the acquisition of a memorial which they must value, as conveying a lively recollection of features so beloved and respected.

The character of Dr. Channing as a man and a clergyman, is now the peculiar property of his immediate friends and acquaintance, and as proud as we should be to give it to the world, we hope that it will long await the justice that is due to it.

Of his writings, those more especially, which have established his fame abroad, we may be permitted to speak with freedom and confidence. But in alluding to them, we desire to be understood, as referring not to his polemical publications, but to those only, where party opinions are not contravened, or sectarian purposes subserved. The style of Dr. Channing is pure, chaste, and nervous. Endowed with a mind rich in the treasures of ancient and modern lore, and with a heart replete with Christian benevolence, he addresses himself, not only to the understanding, but to the heart; and by the clearness of his manner and the closeness of his reasoning, he is seldom refused access to either, unless when fortified by bigotry or prejudice. The common style of Dr. Channing is characterised

by plainness, sincerity, and vigor. He writes as if his mind and heart were full of his subject; and the graces and embellishments of composition were unnoticed or forgotten in the crowd; and yet when he pours forth the richness of his imagination, these graces and embellishments spontaneously burst out like the diamond drops of the waterfall, as it precipitously leaps in its haste to join the current below. The clearness of his conception betrays itself, in a lucid manner, vigorous expressions and appropriate epithets. His strength is not wasted in fruitless attempts to oppose the prejudices of his readers, but is exerted in appeals to the understanding, as the best avenue to the heart. Dr. Channing has done much for the literary reputation of his country abroad; and his writings will continue to be admired by all who can estimate profound learning, pure morality, the grand and beautiful in thought and expression, or read a sermon without the inquiry, does the author belong to our church.'

GREENFIELD HIGH SCHOOL FOR YOUNG LADIES.

We have received a pamphlet, purporting to be the Outline of the Plan of Education' pursued at this school, from which we make a few extracts, for the information of such as may feel particularly interested in the subject; we mean those who are wishing to place their daughters at such a seminary. Perhaps there is no part of the Union where the education of females is better managed than at the High Schools for young ladies in this city. We have recently witnessed with much pleasure (and we may say pride) their performances at two of the schools, and can recommend either as deserving of public patronage. But all cannot afford to educate their daughters at the city schools. To those who prefer, on any account, to place their children in the country, we would recommend a perusal of the pamphlet from which our extracts are copied. These must necessarily be very limited and imperfect.

"Our system of Education embraces the three-fold object of Physical, Intellectual and Moral culture.

The first of these branches would claim our regard, were it merely for its subserviency to the rest. Physical health and its attendant cheerfulness pro