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not the cause." The gold-seeker sighed deeply, and shook his head. 66 'Speak, Zealous," cried his brother," and there is nothing you can wish but that we will all gladly do."

"It is in vain to struggle against my destiny," said Zealous. "Did you find any sacks of gold

near me?"

"They are all five in yon cupboard," said Patient. 66 They are untouched; they are yours. They contain vast wealth, but was wealth like that necessary to us? See how happy I am. Why? Because all around is the fruit of my labor and my industry. You are unhappy, your wife is wretched, and all because you have an inordinate thirst for mere gold. With millions of dollars in your cupboard, you long again to tempt fortune."

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Never!" replied Zealous firmly. "Take the gold: it is not mine, but yours. Use it for our mutual advantage. Give me my task to perform, and from this day you shall have no reason to complain." And the gold-seeker went out in search of his wife, with whom he conversed for an hour; and that day at dinner all were happy. But Patient determined to spare no sacrifice to insure his brother's happiness. A month after that, he left his hacienda, sold it to a rich convent, and retired to the United States, where the brothers entered into a partnership as merchants. But Zealous was wholly cured. He felt deeply the noble conduct of his brother and his wife, and sought in

every way to repay them. They are now all contented. Patient has three children, Zealous as many, and their commerce succeeding, they have few cares for the future. They are looked up to in the great city they inhabit; and when the Californian gold fever burst out, the most sensible advice came from the lips of Zealous. "Do not quit the certain for the uncertain,” said he to young men ready to abandon lucrative posts to go gold-digging; "honest industry gives you an existence, success can do no more, while the chances of failure are so great. I was one of the fortunate. But then if the gold-seeker did not perish, it was because the devoted water-seeker was at hand." And he would hurry home to press the hand of his brother, and thank him once more for all he owed to him. The advice of Zealous is little followed, because youth and ardent imaginations are little influenced by reason; but it is probable that, in after-days, the few who stick to their counters and their situations will never regret having taken the counsel of the now cautious gold-seeker. There are always bold and enterprising characters enough to risk such perils, there are always sufficient men of desperate fortunes who cannot lose, without fathers of families and comfortable citizens leaving their home and household gods to tempt Dame Fortune. So always thought Patient, and so now thinks Zealous Jones.

THE wise king of Israel has said, "Greater is he that ruleth his own spirit than he that taketh a city." Those, therefore, who have a rebellious temper to subdue, have a task before them worthy of the highest ambition; and one which, by its fulfillment, will bring a rich reward of peace and love. Still, it is a task to which not many are adequate; and all parents should endeavor to prevent the growth of evil temper among their children, lest when they become men and women they find it too hard a task "to rule their own spirits." Much may be done in infancy and childhood toward marring a naturally good temper, or mending a naturally bad one. Bring up a child among ill-tempered people, and it will become illtempered by force of habit and imitation; and vice versa. If a child be disposed to certain faults of temper, do not dwell upon them severely; pass them over as lightly as justice to others will permit, and be careful to put out of his way all temptations to a recurrence of them; by these means they may-nay, they certainly will become

weakened by want of opportunity for action. We are so much the creatures of habit, that such a child may grow up a good-tempered man because he was prevented from forming a habit of getting into ill-tempers when he was a boy.

sex.

Activity is another preventive of bad temper People who have nothing to do but to trifle away their time are often out of temper. For this reason, women are more subject to fits of ill-temper than men I say it with all due respect to the There is my pretty friend, Mrs. Supine, par exemple; she has positively nothing to do but to get up, every day, dress, drive out, dress again, dine, doze, drink tea, and go to bed. She has none of the idle occupations of ordinary ladies: reading hurts her eyes, letter-writing is too much trouble, she hates needlework, and cannot find time to attend to flowers. "Here is a state of things!" I thought to myself when I first knew her; "I hope, poor thing, she is stupid, or she must be very uncomfortable." Upon further acquaintance

it appeared that she was not at all stupid, she was only indolent; and that she was very uncomfortable, for she was always out of temper. Her temper was so bad that she had no friends; no servant could remain in her house more than three months; and her husband sometimes wished that he too could give her a month's notice, and go. If he could have given her something to do, they might have been a happy couple; as it was, temper reigned triumphant over that luxurious household—and reigns there at this very moment. Ah! if Mrs. Supine had but half of busy Mrs. Brown's fourteen children, what a blessing it would be to Mr. Supine and all their acquaintances! not to mention my pretty friend herself.

But

One grand cause of bad temper among men is dyspepsia. A man eats and drinks too much, or eats and drinks things which do not agree with him; his digestive organs are impaired and his temper, in consequence. There's my friend the Rev. Gustavus Grumble. He was a merry fellow enough when we used to club for toffy at school. He has always been lucky through life. In all his doings he has prospered. In great-goes and little goes he has never been plucked, but come off with flying colors; especially in that very greatest "go" for a clergyman, we mean the one in the matrimonial lottery. Gustavus drew a prize, and there never was a sweeter tempered woman than his Saccharissa. Ever since that period, Gustavus has been living comfortably, nay, in good style, upon an ample benefice. alas! alas! his dinners have been too good every day; and, at the end of twenty years, my friend is a dyspeptic domestic demon. He is angry with every one without cause; his wife is afraid to speak to him, for fear of ruffling his temper; his children get out of his way as fast as they can, for they know he will find fault with them. His parishioners do not love him, for he does not bring a healing balm to their sorrowing hearts, but a caustic querulousness. He has quarrels and lawsuits about tithes with all his neighbors. He rules the charity schools and their teachers with a rod of iron: he reads prayers like the murmur of an angry, sullen sea; and preaches like a spirit of desolation. This dreadful fate of Mr. Grumble I attribute to an over-indulgence in the good things of the table.

Seriously, dear reader, we would commend to your attention the charms and graces of that beautiful household Lar-Good Temper. Never neglect to worship her. In the secret recesses of your heart offer up your forbearance and forgiveness of injuries, your self-restraint and self-denial to her, and she will bless you and gird you round with peace and contentment. It may not be that

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you, fair maiden, will be loved because you are sweet-tempered,

"Non e bellezza non e senno, o valore,

Che in noi risveglia amore;"

but it is assuredly true that your chance of awakening love is increased thereby, and your power of retaining it, when once awakened, magnified a hundred-fold. Youths and maidens, I preach no new doctrine, when I tell you that good temper is better than fortune, than station, than talents, or than beauty; and that without it they are but feeble agents in the attainment of virtue or happiness. "It is," as Jeremy Taylor says, "neither manly nor ingenuous to be ill-tempered. It proceeds from softness of spirit and pusillanimity; which makes that women are more angry than men, sick persons more than healthful, old men more than young, unprosperous and calamitous people more than the blessed and fortunate. It is a passion fitter for flies and insects, than for persons professing nobleness and bounty. It is troublesome not only to those that suffer it, but to them that behold it; there being no greater incivility of entertainment, than, for the cook's fault, or the negligence of the servants, to be cruel, or outrageous, or unpleasant in the presence of the guests. It makes marriage to be a necessary and unavoidable trouble; friendships, and societies, and familiarities to be intolerable."

In conclusion, let me quote a few more words from that most eloquent of divines, since they bear upon my subject, and express my meaning better than any I could use. They are grave, indeed, but we must remember that our subject is no mere bagatelle; it is one that affects the daily, hourly, the mortal and immortal life of the great human family. We venture to say that the triumphs of temper have desolated as many hearths as the triumphs of Sesostris or Napoleon. It is to mitigate or ward off this desolation in a few instances, that we would awaken the reader's serious feelings now. "Prayer is the great remedy against anger; for it must suppose it in some degree removed before we pray; and then it is the more likely it will be finished when the prayer is done. If anger arises in thy breast, instantly seal up thy lips, and let it not go forth, for, like fire when it wants vent, it will suppress itself. Humility is the most excellent natural cure for anger in the world; for he that by daily considering his own infirmities and failings, makes the error of his neighbor or servant to be his own case, and remembers that he daily needs God's pardon and his brother's charity, will not be apt to rage at the levities, or misfortunes, or indiscretions of another; greater than which he considers that he is very frequently and more inexcusably guilty of."

(SEE PLATE.)

Where the nibbling flocks do stray,
Mountains on whose barren breast
The lab'ring clouds do often rest;
Meadows trim with daisies pied,
Shallow brooks and rivers wide:
Towers and battlements it sees
Bosom'd high in tufted trees,
Where perhaps some beauty lies,

The Cynosure of neighb'ring eyes.

Hard by, a cottage chimney smokes,
From betwixt two aged oaks,
Where Corydon and Thyrsis, met,
Are at their savory dinner set

Of herbs, and other country messes,
Which the neat-handed Phyllis dresses,
And then in haste her bower she leaves,
With Thestylis to bind the sheaves;
Or, if the earlier season lead,
To the tann'd haycock in the mead.
Sometimes with secure delight
The upland hamlets will invite,
When the merry bells ring round,
And the jocund rebecs sound
To many a youth, and many a maid,
Dancing in the chequer'd shade;
And young and old come forth to play

On a sun-shine holiday,
Till the live-long day light fail;
Then to the spicy nut-brown ale,
With stories told of many a feat,
How fairy Mab the junkets eat,
She was pinch'd, and pull'd, she said,
And he, by friar's lantern led,

Tells how the drudging goblin sweat,

To earn his cream-bowl duly set,
When in one night, ere glimpse of morn,
His shadowy flail had thresh'd the corn,
That ten day-lab'rers could not end;
Then lies him down the lubbar-fiend,
And stretch'd out all the chimney's length,
Basks at the fire his hairy strength,
And crop-full out of doors he flings,
Ere the first cock his matin rings.

Thus done the tales, to bed they creep,
By whisp'ring winds soon lull'd asleep.
Tower'd cities please us then;

And the busy hum of men,

Where throngs of knights and barons bold
In weeds of peace high triumphs hold,
With store of ladies, whose bright eyes
Rain influence, and judge the prize
Of wit, or arms, while both contend
To win her grace, whom all commend.
There let Hymen oft appear

In saffron robe, with taper clear,
And pomp, and feast, and revelry,
With mask and antique pageantry,
Such sights as youthful poets dream
On summer eves by haunted stream.
Then to the well-trod stage anon,
If Johnson's learned sock be on,
Or sweetest Shakspeare, Fancy's child,
Warble his native wood-notes wild.
And ever, against eating cares,
Lap me in soft Lydian airs,
Married to immortal verse,
Such as the meeting soul may pierce,

In notes, with many a winding bout
Of linked sweetness long drawn out
With wanton heed, and giddy cunning,
The melting voice through mazes running,
Untwisting all the chains that tie
The hidden soul of harmony;

That Orpheus' self may heave his head

From golden slumber on a bed

Of heap'd Elysian flowers, and hear
Such strains as would have won the ear
Of Pluto, to have quite set free

His half regain'd Eurydice.

These delights, if thou canst give,
Mirth, with thee I mean to live."