14. Always show a respect and deference to age. This is too apt to be neglected at the present day.

15. Do not imagine little ceremonies to be insignificant, and beneath your attention. They are the customs of society; and, if you do not conform to them, you will gain the unenviable distinction of being pointed out as an ignorant, ill-bred person.

16. Avoid a loud tone of voice in conversation, or a "horse laugh;" both are exceedingly vulgar and unfeminine.

IV. — LITERATURE. —NEW NOVELS.

(HERE are evils under the sun that Solomon never

THE

dreamed of. In our land, one of these evils is a deluge of books. Works of fiction, perhaps from being "light reading," are floating on the top waves, filling our homes with an ever-flowing stream of the “last new novels," and threatening to wash away from the minds of the young all love for works of truth and soberness.

I am not intending now to discuss the evils of this mania for fiction. That there are injurious effects from this habit of indiscriminate novel-devouring, everybody will allow.

How to prevent it, is the question. This involves the whole system of home-life.

It is easy enough to describe how not to do it. As an

illustration of one important failure in doing it, I will give you the following sketch:

DOCTOR NORTON'S STORY.

"It is a long time ago," said Dr. Norton, "over thirty years, since I made my first visit to Boston.

"I was then a young man. Men will grow old," he added (as in a parenthesis), turning to the ladies, Miss Barker and her sister Maria, who were listening earnestly; "but women may keep their youth as long as they keep their hearts warm with the love of truth and goodness. I believed in women when I was young."

"Do you doubt them now?" said Maria, smiling. She was a very lovely girl.

"I will tell you when I have finished my story," he replied gravely. "It happened that I had letters to some of the most distinguished families in Boston, and was introduced into what is called, by courtesy, 'the first circle.'

"I passed my time very pleasantly, in a round of dinner-parties, balls, and the usual fashionable amusements; and had been nearly three weeks in the city before I found leisure to return the early call one of my father's friends had made me.

"Mr. Tuttle was a very rich man, and highly respected on 'Change, as rich men are; but his strictly religious character, which he was very scrupulous to sustain, prevented his associating much in fashionable parties.

"He had been liberally educated, and designed to become a clergyman; but, when he had completed his theological studies, the state of his health was such, that he was obliged to go on a voyage at sea, and finally he entered business as a merchant. He had been very successful, was a millionnaire, and his daughters were great matches.

"I sent up my name. Mr. Tuttle was out; but his wife met and welcomed me with all a woman's cordiality and grace when she wishes to please; very different, indeed, from the formal reception I had anticipated. She assured me that they had been expecting my visit; that she felt quite acquainted with me, because she had entertained so high an opinion of my father; and so on. Compliments cost nothing: would that railroads were as easily made!

"Mrs. Tuttle led the way to her private parlor, observing that she wished to introduce me to her daughers as they were. In this, she showed a managing mother's tact; for her daughters really needed no foreign aid of

ornament.

66

They were lovely enough in their neat, morningdresses; indeed, so very beautiful were the two eldest, that it surprised me I had not seen them at the parties I had attended. I soon found it was not from want of interest in such amusements, for they overwhelmed. me with inquiries respecting how I had enjoyed them: and then came a sigh, and those portentous words, 'Papa does not approve of balls!'

"I endeavored to change the conversation by alluding to the book which had so claimed their attention when I entered, remarking, that I supposed they enjoyed their leisure more than the trifling did society. As I ended, I looked at the volume: it was Eugene Aram,' then just published.

"I have serious objections to the Bulwer novels, though they have some high merits; and I should never recommend 'Eugene Aram' for a young lady's reading.

"However, I found they had no scruples on the subject. They began, and poured out their eulogiums on Bulwer and his charming novels.' 'Pelham''was so interesting, so witty, and full of such delightful descriptions of high life,' and 'Paul Clifford' was 'such a fascinating hero, so brave and generous!'

"What signified his robberies? Adelaide, the second daughter, declared she should have 'doted on him.'

"And then The Disowned,' - what lofty sentiments, what deep, powerful pathos!' &c. Thus they went on, while their delighted mother told me, though how she edged in the words no one could tell, that 'Susan and Adelaide were so fond of Bulwer's works they had read through "Eugene Aram," since the preceding afternoon.'

"I tried hard to make them praise one of my favorite writers, Miss Austen; but it would not do. She was too natural, and only seemed to know the middle classes: no lords or ladies of any note figured in her volumes.

"We want pictures of fashionable manners, of the beau monde in Europe,' said Miss Tuttle.

"There is not any spirit or originality in the works of Miss Austen,' said Miss Adelaide. One might as well read a tract or a sermon.'

66

"In the midst of these discussions on novels and fashionable life, Mr. Tuttle entered, unexpectedly, I pre

sume.

"The conversation ceased instantly. I observed that Susan dexterously threw her handkerchief over the 'charming book,' and, gathering it up, placed it behind her on the sofa, and then, hastily reaching her work from the table, seemed wholly absorbed in the progress of her needle.

"After the usual salutations, inquiries, and welcomes to me, Mr. Tuttle, who appeared very fond of his children, told Adelaide that her eyes looked heavy, and he feared she confined herself to her work too closely (she was knitting a bead purse); and inquired if she had been out that morning.

"No, papa: I have been so engaged!'

"To finish that purse, I presume. I wish, my dear,' turning to his wife, 'you would be more particular, and see that these girls walk or drive out every pleasant morning. I do not wish to have them so constantly engaged at their work.'

"You know, my love, their work is designed for charity. How can they be better employed?' And Mrs. Tuttle looked so innocently in her husband's face.

"I thought of Eugene Aram,' and determined to