appointment is, that distrust which becomes the habitual frame of the mind towards persons and things.

Misfortunes seldom of themselves assail us; they must be brought on us by the intervention of some being or beings; and for the sake of those who have so deeply injured or deceived us, a bitterness against all the human species springs up in our hearts.

Of course we now speak of minds which are uninfluenced by a pervading spirit of religionfor where that sheds its rays all is peace and love.

There was one person in these gay and crowded rooms who watched every turn of Sir Herbert Sedley's fine countenance, though he scarce noticed her.

Jessy Bentley was not strictly beautiful; but when she conversed with those she loved, or listened to them, her countenance glowed with a thousand charms.

Her dark ringlets were parted from a high and expansive forehead; her eyes were capable

of every shade of expression, from the most bewitching archness to the darkest gloom, and whatever look beamed from them appeared for the moment their habitual expression.

At length she approached the spot where Sedley stood, and he turned and addressed her; suddenly her fine face was lighted up with radiant happiness, and so potent was the charm of her manner and conversation, that Sedley soon threw off his abstracted sadness and yielded to the influence of her fascinations.

They talked of many things which were scarce fitted for the atmosphere of a ball-room, and as Jessy Bentley spoke of blighted hopes and the charm of sympathy, and the coldness of the world; her soft and varying tones, her eloquent language and earnest expression formed a deeply interesting whole.

Sedley, totally unconscious of the flame which burned in her bosom, and which he was feeding by his appearance of delighted attention, listened to her in silence, and gazed with admiration on her varying countenance.

Jessy Gardiner had been left, at the age of nineteen, an orphan, and was consigned to the charge of the Dowager Lady Sedley, who had been an attached friend of her mother's. She had been indulged by her fond parents in every wish of her heart, and her naturally violent feelings, for want of proper restraint, had become wholly uncontrollable. Under judicious management she might have been a first rate character, but as it was, she was a strange compound of generous feelings and want of principle. The least thing had power to elate her to the wildest spirits, or sink her in despair. Her poor mother had reaped the fruits of her mistaken indulgence, and had wept in agony on witnessing her unhappy daughter's frequent bursts of passion at trivial disappointments.

When Jessy lost this tender mother, the frenzy of her grief alarmed and shocked all those who surrounded her. Bitter were her self-reproaches, and great was her remorse.

Amongst all the sources of unhappiness, the stores of anguish, we poor mortals lay up for

ourselves, there is none so poignant, so bitter, as the recollection of filial ingratitude, when

wounded hearts we so lightly prized, have ceased to beat. Oh God! it is a fearful thought! When the poor wretch whose bad passions have embittered the days of fond parents, and finally brought them in sorrow to the grave, reflects on the irrevocable past, he may, indeed, gnash his teeth, and howl in despair, but it cannot recall the lost-the dead. Those closed, immovable eyes, how often has their tender, anxious gaze been met by a cold or hardened look, and their mild, reproving glances been scorned or disregarded, till grief has dimmed their brightness, and burning tears have seared their beauty. Those cheeks which he may remember as full and soft, when pressed in maternal love against his own in thoughtless boyhood, his unkindness has robbed of their freshness, and fearful hollows have been imprinted on them by his neglect!

Those lips, now stiff in death, how often

have they opened in tenderness or soft advice, and how have their pleadings been regarded? The tenderness has been coldly thrown back on the sorely hurt heart, and the remonstrance listened to in disdainful impatience! Oh! what years of woe-what bodily torture would he not now undergo to see those beloved features again animated!

But, no-it may not be, and death closes the door to reparation.

Ye who are regardless of the sacred filial tie, beware! pause in your sinful career, for your reckoning, even in this world, will be awful!

But Lady Sedley's soothing kindness at length won Jessy's heart, and caused the memory of her bereavement to grow less agonizing.

Herbert Sedley was at this period residing with his mother, and his conduct towards the young mourner was everything that the most refined delicacy and excellent heart could suggest; she seemed his first object: he would read with her, sketch with her, and procure