"I

before the Great Being whom thou hast offended; and own his mercy in the awful warning!" am humbled, I am warned, I trust," cried Annabel, falling on her knees; "but, if he die, what will become of me?" "What will become of us all!" replied the mother, shuddering at the bare idea of losing him, but preparing, with forced composure, for her important duties. Trying ones indeed they were, through many days and nights, that the wife and daughter had to watch beside the bed of the unconscious Burford. The one heard herself kindly invoked, and tenderly desired, and 'her absence wondered at; while the other never heard her name mentioned, during the ravings of fever, without heart-rending upbraidings, and just reproofs. But Burford's life was granted to the prayers of agonizing affection: and, when recollection returned, he had the joy of knowing that his reputation was cleared, that his angry creditors were become his kind friends, and that Sir James Alberry lamented, with bitter regret, that he could no longer prove his confidence in him by making him his partner. But, notwithstanding this blight to his prospects, Burford piously blessed the event which had had so salutary an influence on his of fending child; and had taught her a lesson which she was not likely to forget. Lady Alberry, however, thought that the lesson was not yet sufficiently complete; for, though Annabel might be cured of lying by the consequences of her falsehoods, the vanity which prompted them might still remain uncorrected. Therefore, as Annabel had owned that it was the wish not to lose consequence in the eyes of her supposed admirer, which had led her to her last fatal falsehood, Lady Alberry, with the mother's

approbation, contrived a plan for laying the axe, if possible, to the root of her vanity; and she took the earliest opportunity of asking Charles Danvers, in her presence, and that of her mother, some particulars concerning what passed in the coach, and his opinion on the subject. As she expected, he gave a softened and favourable representation; and would not allow that he did not form a favourable opinion of his fair companion. "What! Charles," said she, "do you pretend to deny that you mimicked her voice and manner?" She then repeated all that he he had said, and his declaration that her evident vanity and coquetry steeled his heart against her, copying, at the same time, his accurate mimickry of Annabel's manner; nor did she rest till she had drawn from him a full avowal that what he had as serted was true; for, Lady Alberry was not a woman to be resisted; while the mortified, humbled, but corrected Annabel, could only hide her face in her mother's bosom; who, while she felt for the salutary pangs inflicted on her, mingled caresses with her tears, and whispered in her ear, that the mortification which she endured was but for a moment; and the benefit would be, she trusted, of eternal duration. The lesson was now complete indeed. Annabel found that she had not only, by her lies of vanity, deprived her father of a lucrative business, but that she had exposed herself to the ridicule and contempt of that very being who had been the cause of her error; and, in the depth of her humble and contrite heart, she resolved from that moment to struggle with her besetting sins, and subdue them. Nor was the resolve of that trying moment ever broken. But when her father, whose original destination had been the church, was led,

by his own wishes to take orders, and was, in process of time, inducted into a considerable living in the gift of Sir James Alberry, Annabel rivalled her mother in performing the duties of her new station : and, when she became a wife and mother herself, she had a mournful satisfaction in relating the above story to her children; bidding them beware of all lying; but more especially of that common lie, the lie of vanity, whether it be active or passive. "Not," said she, "that retributive justice in this world, like that which attended mine, may always follow your falsehoods, or those of others; but because all lying is contrary to the moral law of God; and that the liar, as scripture tells us, is not only liable to punishment and disgrace here, but will be the object of certain and more awful punishment in the world

to come."

The following tale illustrates the PASSIVE LIE OF

VANITY.

UNEXPECTED DISCOVERIES.

THERE are two sayings-the one derived from divine, the other from human authority-the truth of which is continually forced upon us by experience. They are these:- "A prophet is not without honour, except in his own country; and "No man is a hero to his valet-de chambre."—" Familiarity breeds contempt," is also a proverb to the same effect; and they all three bear upon the tendency in our natures to undervalue the talents, and the claims to distinction, of those with whom we are closely connected and associated; and on our incapability to believe that they, whom we have always considered as our equals only, or perhaps as

our inferiors, can be to the rest of the world objects of admiration and respect.

No one was more convinced of the truth of these sayings than Darcy Pennington, the only child of a pious and virtuous couple, who thought him the best of sons, and one of the first of geniuses; but, as they were not able to persuade the rest of the family of this latter truth, when they died, Darcy's uncle and guardian insisted on his going into a merchant's counting-house in London, instead of being educated for one of the learned professions. Darcy had a mind too well disciplined to rebel against his guardian's authority. He therefore submitted to his allotment in silence; resolving that his love of letters and the muses should not interfere with his duties to his employer, but he devoted all his leisure hours to literary pursuits; and, as he had real talents, he was at length raised, from the unpaid contributor to the poetical columns in a newspaper, to the paid writer in a popular magazine; while his poems, signed Alfred, became objects of eager expectation. But Darcy's own family and friends could not have been more surprised at his growing celebrity than he himself was: for he was a sincere, humble christian; and, having been accustomed to bow to the opinion of those whom he considered as his superiors in intellect and knowledge, he could scarcely believe in his own eminence. But it was precious to his heart, rather than to his vanity; as it enabled him to indulge those benevolent feelings, which his small income had hitherto restrained. At length he published a duodecimo volume of poems and hymns, still under the name of Alfred, which was highly praised in reviews and journals, and a strong

desire was expressed to know who the modest, promising, and pious writer was.

Notwithstanding, Darcy could not prevail upon himself to disclose his name. He visited his native town every year, and in the circle of his family and friends, was still considered only as a good sort of lad, who had been greatly overrated by his parents

was just suited for a situation in which he had been placed and was very fortunate to have been received into partnership with the merchant to whom he had been clerk. In vain did Darcy sometimes endeavour to hint that he was an author; he remembered the contempt with which his uncle, and relations, had read one of the earliest fruits of his muse, when exhibited by his fond father, and the advice given to burn such stuff, and not turn the head of a dull boy, by making him fancy him, self a genius. Therefore, recollecting the wise saying quoted above, he feared that the news of his literary celebrity would not be received with pleasure, and that the affection with which he was now welcomed might suffer diminution. Besides, thought he, and then his heart rose in his throat, with a choking painful feeling,-those tender parents, who would have enjoyed my little fame, are cold and unconscious now; and the ears, to which my praises would have been sweet music, cannot hear; therefore methinks I have a mournful pleasure in keeping on that veil, the removal of which cannot confer pleasure on them." Consequently he remained contented to be warmly welcomed at D-for talents of an humble sort, such as his power for mending toys, making kites, and rabbits on the wall; which talents endeared him to all the children of his family and friends; and, through them,