"Sooth, my good friend," said Halbert, " ne'er was mar On earth so hard beset-I love them all

With such a pure esteem and stainless love,
That though I well could give the preference
To any one, yet for my life and soul
There is not one of them I can reject.
I give the matter wholly up to you,

I know you wish me well, and all the maids
Alike to you are dear,--Whom shall I choose?

John set his bonnet in becoming mode,
That well betoken'd deep considerate thought;
One edge of it directed middle way
"Twixt the horizon and the cope of heaven,
And with the one hand in his bosom sheathed,
The other heaving slightly in the air,

To humour what he said, he utter'd words
Which I desire you note-" My son,” said he,
"I've one advice to give you, which through life
I rede

you follow-when you make a choice

Of man or woman, beast, farm, fish, or fowl,

CHOOSE EVER THAT WHICH HAS THE FEWEST FAULTS

My girls have all their foibles and their faults

Mary's are FEWest and least DANGEROUS.
Take thou my Mary-if she prove to thee
As good a wife as she has ever been

A dutiful and loving child to me,
Thou never wilt repent it."-So it proved;
A happier pair ne'er travell'd through this vale
Of life together, than our Halbert
With his beloved Mary.-Peace to them,
And to their ashes!—and may every pair
Of happy lovers in their kindred dale
Cherish their memory, and be blest as they!

Now, dear Horatio, when thou makest choice Of book, of friend, companion, or of wife,

Think of the sage advice of John of Manor;

CHOOSE EVER THAT WHICH HAS THE FEWEST FAULTS,
AND THOSE LEAST DANGEROUS.-Take note of this:

All have their faults and foibles-all have too
The feelings that congenial minds will love;
And to each other genial minds will cling
Long as this world has being, and the shades
Of nature hold their endless variation.
I say no more, Horatio, but this word:
In time to come, when thronged variety

Of books, and men, and women, on thee crowd,
When choice distracts thee, or when spleen misleads,
Think of the sage advice of John of Manor.

THE LONG PACK.

In the year 1723, Colonel Ridley returned from India, with what, in those days, was accounted an immense fortune, and retired to a country seat on the banks of North Tyne in Northumberland.

The house was rebuilt and furnished with every thing elegant and costly; and amongst others, a service of plate supposed to be worth £1000. He went to London annually with his family, during a few of the winter months, and at these times there were but few left at his country house. At the time we treat of, there were only three domestics remained there; a maid servant, whose name was Alice, kept the house, and there were besides, an old man and a boy, the one threshed the corn, and the other took

care of some cattle; for the two ploughmen were boarded in houses of their own.

One afternoon, as Alice was sitting spinning some yarn for a pair of stockings to herself, a pedlar entered the hall with a comical pack on his back. Alice had seen as long a pack, and as broad a pack; but a pack equally long, broad, and thick, she declared she never saw. It was about the middle of winter, when the days were short, and the nights cold, long, and wearisome. The pedlar was a handsome, well-dressed man, and very likely to be a very agreeable companion for such a maid as Alice, on such a night as that; yet Alice declared, that from the very first she did not like him greatly, and though he introduced himself with a little ribaldry, and a great deal of flattery interlarded, yet when he came to ask a night's lodging, he met with a peremptory refusal; he jested on the subject, said he believed she was in the right, for that it would scarcely be safe to trust him under the same roof with such a sweet and beautiful creature-Alice was an old maid, and any thing but beautiful-He then took her on his knee, caressed and kissed her, but all would not do. 66 No, she would not consent to his staying there." "But are you really going to put me away to night?” "Yes." " "Indeed, my dear girl, you must not be so unreasonable; I am come straight from Newcastle, where I have been purchasing a fresh stock of goods, which are so heavy, that I cannot travel far with them, and as the people around are all of the poorer sort, I will rather make you a present of the finest shawl in my pack before I go further." At the mentioning of the shawl, the picture of deliberation was pourtrayed in lively colours on Alice's face for a little; but her prudence overcame. "No, she was but a servant, and had orders to harbour no person about the house but such as came on business, nor these either, unless she was well acquainted with them." "What the worse can you, or your master, or any one else be, of suffering me to

tarry until the morning ?"" I entreat you do not insist, for here you cannot be.” But, indeed, I am not able to carry my goods further to-night." "Then you must leave them, or get a horse to carry them away." "Of all the sweet inflexible beings that ever were made, you certainly are the chief. But I cannot blame you; your resolution is just and right. Well, well, since no better may be, I must leave them, and go search for lodgings myself somewhere else, for, fatigued as I am, it is as much as my life is worth to endeavour carrying them further." Alice was rather taken at her word: she wanted nothing to do with his goods: the man was displeased at her, and might accuse her of stealing some of them; but it was an alternative she had proposed, and against which she could start no plausible objection; so she consented, though with much reluctance. "But the pack will be better out of your way," said he, " and safer, if you will be so kind as lock it by in some room or closet." She then led him into a low parlour, where he placed it carefully on two chairs, and went his way, wishing Alice a good night.

When old Alice and the pack were left together in the large house by themselves, she felt a kind of undefined terror come over her mind about it. "What can be in it," said she to herself, "that makes it so heavy? Surely when the man carried it this length, he might have carried it farther tooIt is a confoundedly queer pack; I'll go and look at it once again, and see what I think is in it; and suppose I should handle it all around, I may then perhaps have a good guess what is in it."

Alice went cautiously and fearfully into the parlour and opened a wall-press-she wanted nothing in the press, indeed she never looked into it, for her eyes were fixed on the pack, and the longer she looked at it, she liked it the worse; and as to handling it, she would not have touched it for all that it contained. She came again into the kitchen and conversed

with herself. She thought of the man's earnestness to leave it-of its monstrous shape, and every circumstance connected with it---They were all mysterious, and she was convinced in her own mind, that there was something uncanny, if not unearthly, in the pack.

What surmises will not fear give rise to in the mind of a woman! She lighted a moulded candle, and went again into the parlour, closed the window shutters, and barred them; but before she came out, she set herself upright, held in her breath, and took another steady and scrutinizing look of the pack. God of mercy! She saw it moving, as visibly as she ever saw any thing in her life. Every hair on her head stood upright. Every inch of flesh on her body crept like a nest of pismires. She hasted into the kitchen as fast as she could, for her knees bent under the terror that had overwhelmed the heart of poor Alice. She puffed out the candle, lighted it again, and, not being able to find a candlestick, though a dozen stood on the shelf in the fore kitchen, she set it in a water-jug, and ran out to the barn for old Richard. "Oh Richard! Oh, for mercy, Richard, make haste, and come into the house. Come away Richard." Why, what is the matter Alice? what is wrong?"" Oh, Richard! a pedlar came into the hall entreating for lodgings. Well, I would not let him stay on any account, and, behold, he is gone off and left his pack." "And what is the great matter in that ?" said Richard. " I will wager a penny he will look after it, before it shall look after him." "But, oh Richard, I tremble to tell you! We are all gone, for it is a living pack." "A living pack !" Said Richard, staring at Alice, and letting his chops fall down. Richard had just lifted his flail over his head to begin threshing a sheaf; but when he heard of a living pack, he dropped one end of the hand-staff to the floor, and, leaning on the other, took such a look at Alice. He knew long before that Alice was beautiful; he knew that ten years before, but he never

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