With a notable diligence he ransacks the market for rare and curious fabrics, for costly seals, chains, and rings. He employs a profound discrimination in selecting a hat or a vest, and adopts his conclusions upon the tastefulness of a button or a collar with the deliberation of a statesman. Thus caparisoned, he saunters in fashionable galleries, flaunts in stylish equipage, or parades the streets. He is a reader of fictions, if they be not too substantial; a writer — of cards and billets-doux. He is as corrupt in imagination as he is refined in manners, and selfish in private as he is generous in public. He worships where fashion worships. A gaudy butterfly, he flutters without industry from flower to flower, until summer closes, and frosts sting him, and ho sinks down and dies, unthought of and unremembered.

QUARREL BETWEEN SIR PETER TEAZLE AND LADY TEAZLE.

Lady T. Why, Sir Peter, I hope you have not been quarrelling with Maria. It is not using me well to be ill humored when I am not by.

Sir P. Ah, Lady Teazle, you might have the power to make me good humored at all times.

Lady T. I am sure I wish I had; for I want you to be in a charming sweet temper at this moment. Do be good humored now, and let me have two hundred pounds; will you?

Sir P. Two hundred pounds! What, am I not to be in a good humor, without paying for it? But speak to me thus, and there's nothing I could refuse you. You shall have it. And you shall no longer reproach me with not giving you an independent settlement. I mean shortly to surprise you. But shall we always live thus, hey?

Lady T. If you please. I'm sure I don't care how soon we leave off quarrelling, provided you'll own you were tired first.

Sir P. Well, then, let our future contest be who shall be most obliging.

Lady T. I assure you, Sir Peter, good ature becomes you; you look now as you did before we were married, when you used to walk with me under the elms, and tell me stories of what a gallant you were in your youth, and chuck me under the chin, you would; and ask me if I thought I could love an old fellow who would deny me nothing— didn't you? Sir P. Yes, yes, and you were as kind and attentive—

Lady T. Ay, so I was, and would always take your part when my acquaintance used to abuse you and turn you into ridicule.

Sir P. Indeed!

Lady T. Ay, and when my cousin Sophy has called you a stiff, peevish old bachelor, and laughed at me for thinking of marrying one who might be my father, I have always defended you, and said I didn't think you so ugly, by any

means.

Sir P. Thank you.

Lady T. And I dared say you'd make a very good sort of a husband.

Sir P. And you prophesied right; and we shall now be the happiest couple –

Lady T. And never differ again?

Sir P. No, never! - though, at the same time, indeed, my dear Lady Teazle, you must watch your temper very seriously; for in all our little quarrels, my dear, if you recollect, my love, you always begin first.

Lady T. I beg your pardon, my dear Sir Peter; indeed you always gave the provocation.

Sir P. Now see, my angel! take care-contradicting isn't the way to keep friends.

Lady T. Then don't you begin it, my love!

Sir P. There, now! you you are going on. You don't perceive, my love, that you are just doing the very thing which you know always makes me angry.

Lady T. Nay, you know if you will be angry without any reason, my dear

Sir P. There! now you want to quarrel again.

Lady T. No, I am sure I don't. But if you will be so peevish

Sir P. There, now! who begins first?

Lady T. Why, you, to be sur. I said nothing. But there's no bearing your temper.

Sir P. No, no, madam; the fault's in your own temper. Lady T. Ay, you are just what my cousin Sophy said you would be.

Sir P. Your cousin Sophy is a forward, impertinent gypsy. Lady T. You are a great bear, I'm sure, to abuse my relations.

Sir P. Now, may all the plagues of marriage be doubled on me, if ever I try to be friends with you any more! Lady T. So much the better.

Sir P. No, no, madam; 'tis evident you never cared a pin for me, and I was a madman to marry you a pert, rural coquette, that had refused half the honest squires in the neighborhood.

ar

Lady T. And I am sure I was a fool to marry you old dangling bachelor, who was single at fifty, only because he never could meet with any one who would have him.

Sir P. Ay, ay, madam; but you were pleased enough to listen to me; you never had such an offer before.

Lady T. No! didn't I refuse Sir Tivy Terrier, who every body said would have been a better match? for his estate is just as good as yours, and he has broke his neck since we have been married.

Sir P. I have done with you, madam! You are an unfeeling, ungrateful—but there's an end of every thing. I Delieve you capable of every thing that is bad. A separate

maintenance! Yes, madam, a separate maintenance! I'll make an example of myself for the benefit of all old bachelors.

Lady T. Agreed! agreed! And now, my dear Sir Peter, as we are of a mind once more, we may be the happiest couple and never differ again, you know ha ha ha! Well, you are going to be in a passion, I see, and I shall only interrupt you. So, by, by.

Sir P. Plagues and tortures!

either?

[Exit.

Can't I make her angry

O, I am the most miserable fellow! But I'll not bear her presuming to keep her temper. No, she may break my heart, but she sha'nt keep her temper.

A PSALM OF LIFE.

ENJOYMENT; ě, not . FUNERAL; fü'nêr-ǎl; three syllables BIVDUAC; bivoo-ǎk; required by the metre to be in three syllables

Art is long, and time is fleeting;

And our hearts, though stout and brave
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle!
Be a hero in the strife!

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate ;
Still achieving, still pursuing,

Learn to labor, and to wait.

LONGFELLOW.

NUMBERS; verses, poetry. GOAL; the end. DESTINED; appointed ACHIEVING; performing. BIVOUAC; the guard or watch of a whole army, as in cases of great danger of surprise or attack.

THE DUTCH MONEY-DIGGER.

Peechy Prauw Van Hook, a prosy, narrative, old Dutchman, Ramm Rapley, and other members of a club who were accustomed to assemble at an inn in their neighborhood, met together one cold, stormy night, when their conversation happened to turn upon the subject of "money-digging." It was at that time generally believed that the noted Captain Kidd had buried money in that neighborhood; and it was also believed that Peter Stuyvesant, the Dutch governor, had buried a great deal of money at the time of the Dutch troubles, when the English redcoats seized upon the province. It was then stated by the landlord of the inn, that the money-diggers had been very lucky of late, and that money had been dug up in the fields just behind Stuyvesant's orchard.

Peechy Prauw could tell as many stories in an evening as his hearers could digest in a month. He affirmed that, to his knowledge, treasures had at different times been dug up in various parts of the island. The lucky persons who had discovered them had always dreamt of them three times beforehand, and, what was worthy of remark, these treasures had