readers as they were to us, they will receive with no ordinary gratification this interesting legacy. Had Miss Taylor never published any thing before, these papers would be sufficient to entitle her to rank very high among our best moral writers. Many of them would have been esteemed acceptable contributions in the days of the Spectator, or the Rambler, It ought, indeed to be recollected, that they were written for young persons; that the choice of subject, as well as the unpretending style, has been determined by this circumstance; that the medium through which they found their way to the public, was a very humble one, and such as did not hold out to its contributors any inducement to extraordinary effort. But, with Miss Taylor, the prospect of efficient usefulness was an adequate stimulus; and in writing for the Youth's Magazine, she appears never to have excused herself from taking all the pains that could have been inspired by a trembling solicitude for fame. The papers are seventy-nine in number. As a mere list of the contents would give little idea of their nature, we shall at once proceed to select a few specimens of their varied charac ter. The first that we shall take, is of a sportive cast, THE DISCONTENTED PENDULUM. An old clock that had stood for fifty years in a farmer's kitchen without giving its owner any cause of complaint, early one summer's morning, before the family was stirring, suddenly stopped. Upon this, the dial-plate (if we may credit the fable) changed countenance with alarm; the hands made an ineffectual effort to continue their course; the wheels remained motionless with surprise; the weights hung speechless; each member felt disposed to lay the blame on the others. At length the dial instituted a formal inquiry as to the cause of the stagnation; when hands, wheels, weights, with one voice protested their innocence. But now a faint tick was heard below, from the pendulum, who thus spoke: "I confess myself to be the sole cause of the present stoppage; and am willing, for the general satisfaction, to assign my reasons. The truth is, that I am tired of ticking." Upon hearing this, the old clock became so enraged that it was on the point of striking. "Lazy wire!" exclaimed the dial-plate, holding up its hands "Very good!" replied the pendulum, "it is vastly easy for you, Mistress Dial, who have always, as every body knows, set yourself up above me,--it is vastly easy for you, I say, to accuse other people of laziness! You, who have had nothing to do all the days of your life but to stare people in the face, and to amuse yourself with watching all that goes on in the kitchen! Think, I beseech you, how you would like to be shut up for life in this dark closet, and wag backwards and forwards, year after year, as I do." "As to that," said the dial," is there not a window in your house on purpose for you to look through?" "For all that," resume the pendulum, "it is very dark here; and although there is a window, I dare not stop, even for an instant, to look out. Besides, I am really weary of my way of life; and if you please, I'll tell you how I took this disgust at my employment. This morning I happened to be calculating how many times I should have to tick in the course only of the next twenty four hours: perhaps some of you, above there, can give me the exact sum.” The minute hand, being quick at figures, instantly replied, "eighty-six thousand four hundred times." "Exactly so," replied the pendulum: "well, I appeal to you all, if the thought of this was not enough to fatigue one? and when I began to multiply the strokes of one day by those of months and years, really it is no wonder if I felt discouraged at the prospect: so after a great deal of reasoning and hesitation, thinks I to myself, I'll stop.” The dial could scarcely keep its counte nance during this harangue; but, resuming its gravity, thus replied :-- Dear Mr. Pendulum, I am really astonished that such a useful, industrious person as yourself should have been overcome by this sudden suggestion. It is true you have done a great deal of work in your time. So we have all, and are likely to do; and, although this may fatigue us to think of, the question is, whether it will fatigue us to do: would you now, do me the favour to give about half a dozen strokes, to illustrate my argument." 66 The pendulum complied, and ticked six times at its usual pace.---" Now," resumed the dial, may I be allowed to inquire, if that exertion was at all fatigning or disagreeable to you?" "Not in the least,” replied the pendulum: "it is not of six strokes that I complain, nor of sixty, but of millions.” "Very good," replied the dial, “but recollect that although you may think of a million strokes in an instant, you are required to execute but one; and that however often you may hereafter have to swing, a moment will always be given you to swing in.” "That consideration staggers" me, I confess," said the pendulum. "Then I hope," resumed the dial-plate, "we shall all immediately return to our duty; for the maids will lie in bed till noon if we stand idling thus." Upon this, the weights, who had never been accused of light conduct, used all thert influence in urging him to proceed: when, 66 It is said by a celebrated modern writer, "take care of the minutes and the hours will take care of themselves." This is an admirable hint; and might be very seasonably recollected when we begin to be weary in well-doing," from the thought of having a great deal to do. The present is all we have to manage: the past is irrecoverable; the future is uncertain; nor is it fair to burden one moment with the weight of the next. Sufficient unto the moment is the trouble thereof. If we had to walk a hundred miles, we still need set but one step at a time, and this process continued would infallibly bring us to our journey's end. Fatigue generally begins, and is always increased by calculating in a minute the exertion of hours. Thus, in looking forward to future life, let us recollect that we have not to sustain all its toil, to endure all its sufferings, or en counter all its crosses at once. One moment comes laden with its own little burden, then flies, and is succeeded by another no heavier than the last; if one could be sustained, so can another, and another. Even in looking forward to a single day, the spirit may sometimes faint from an anticipation of the duties, the labours, the trials to temper and patience that may be expected. Now this is unjustly laying the burden of many thousand moments upon one. Let any one resolve to do right now, leaving then to do as it can, and if he were to live to the age of Methuselah, he would never err. But the common error is,to resolve to act right tomorrow, or next time, but now, just this once, we must go on the same as ever. It seems easier to do right to-morrow than to-day, merely because we forget that when to-morrow comes, then will be now. Thus life passes, with many, in resolutions for the future, which the present never fulfils. It is not thus with those, who "by patient continuance in well-doing, seek for glory, honour, and immortality :"---day by day, minute by minute, they execute the appointed task, to which the requisite measure of time and strength is proportioned: and thus, having worked while it was called day, they at length rest from their labours, and their works follow them." Let us then, "whatever our bands find to do, do it with all our might," recollecting, that now is the proper and the accepted time. The Author of "Essays in Rhyme" will be recognized in THE PHILOSOPHER'S SCALES. In days of yore, as Gothic fable tells, When learning dimly gleam'd from grated cells, And wand'ring through the depths of mental night, In vain chimeras and unknown results: In those grave times there lived a reverend sage, Such were the sounds that broke the silence there. 'Twas here, when his rites sacerdotal were o'er, He formed the contrivance we now shall explain; And at length be produced The Philosopher's Scales. What were they ?---you ask: you shall presently see. That qualities, feelings, and thoughts they could weigh; From mountains or planets, to atoms of sense: The first thing he tried was the head of Voltaire, Next time he put in Alexander the Great, A long row of alms-houses, amply endow'd By those mites the poor widow dropp'd into the chest : Up flew the endowment, not weighing an ounce, And down, down, the farthing's worth came with a bounce. Again, he performed an experiment rare : A monk, with austerities bleeding and bare, When he found, with surprise, that the whole of his brother By further experiments, (no matter how,) He found that ten chariots weighed less than one plough. Than one good potatoe just washed from the dirt; One pearl to outweigh,--'twas the "pearl of great price." At last the whole world was bowl'd in at the grate; MORAL. Dear reader, if e'er self deception prevails, And impartiality use for a beam: Then bring those good actions which pride overrates, In a remote period of antiquity, when the supernatural and the marvellous obtained a readier credence than now, it was fabled that a stranger of extraordinary appearance was observed pacing the streets of one of the magnificent cities of the east, remarking with an eye of intelligent curiosity every surrounding object. Several individuals gathering around him, questioned him concerning his country and his business; but they presently perceived that he was unacquainted with their language, and he soon discovered himself to be equally ignorant of the most common usages of society. At the same time, the dignity and intelligence of his air and demeanour forbade the idea of his being either a barbarian or a lunatic. When at length he understood by their signs, that they wished to be informed whence he came, he pointed with great significance to the sky; upon which the crowd, concluding him to be one of their deities, were proceeding to pay him divine honours: but he no sooner comprehended their design, than he rejected it with horror; and bending his knees and . raising his hands towards heaven in the attitude of prayer, gave them to understand that he also was a worshipper of the powers above. After a time, it is said, that the mysterious stranger accepted the hospitalities of one of the nobles of the city; under whose roof he applied himself with great diligence to the acquirement of the language, in which he made such surprising proficiency, that in a few days he was able to hold intelligent intercourse with those around him. The noble host now resolved to take an early opportunity of satisfying his curiosity respecting the country and quality of his guest and upon his expressing this desire, the stranger assured him that he would answer his inquiries that evening after sunset. Accordingly, as night approached, he led him forth upon the balconies of the palace, which overlooked the wealthy and populous city. Innumerable lights from its busy streets and splendid palaces were now reflected in the dark bosom of its noble river; where stately vessels laden with rich merchandize from all parts of the known world, lay anchored in the port. This was a city in which the voice of the harp and the viol, and the sound of the misistone were continu 6 ally heard and craftsmen of all kinds of craft were there; and the light of a candle was seen in every dwelling; and the voice of the bridegroom and the voice of the bride were beard there. The stranger mused awhile upon the glittering scene, and listentened to the confused murmur of mingling sounds. Then suddenly raising his eyes to the starry firmament, he fixed them with an expressive gaze on the beautiful evening star which was just sinking behind a dark grove that surrounded one of the principal temples of the city. “Marvel not," said he to his host," that I am wont to gaze with fond affection on yonder silvery star. That was my home; yes, I was lately an inhabitant of that tranquil planet; from whence a vain curiosity has tempted me to wander. Often had I beheld with wondering admiration, this brilliant world of yours, ever one of the brightest gems of our firmament: and the ardent desire I had long felt to know something of its condition, was at length unexpectedly gratified. I received permission and power from above to traverse the mighty void, and to direct my course to this distant sphere. To that permission, however, one condition was annexed, to which my eagerness for the enterprize induced me hastily to consent; namely, that I must thenceforth remain an inhabitant of this strange earth, and undergo all the vicissitudes to which its natives are subject. Tell me, therefore, I pray you, what is the lot of man; and explain to me more fully than I yet understand, all that I hear and see around me." "Truly, Sir," replied the astonished noble, "although I am altogether unacquainted with the manners and customs, products and privileges of your country, yet, methinks cannot but congratulate you on your arrival in our world; especially since it has been your good fortune to alight on a part of it affording such various sources of enjoyment as this our opulent and luxurious city. And be assured it will be my pride and pleasure to introduce you to all that is most worthy the attention of such a distinguished foreigner. Our adventurer, accordingly, was presently initiated in those arts of luxury and pleasure which were there well understood. He was introduced by his obliging host, to their public games and festivals; to their * It appears in the "Common-Place Book of Prose,” (a neat and tasteful little scrap-book, printed at Edinburgh in 1823,) with the name of the Rev. Dr. Henderson attached to it. The Editor should have abstained from giving the name of the supposed author of an anonymous paper without better infor mation.—(As it will be new to the American reader, the editors of the Atheneum have inserted it at the close of this article.] theatrical diversions and convivial assemblies and in a short time he began to feel some relish for amusements, the meaning of which, at first, he could scarcely comprehend. The next lesson which it became desirable to impart to him, was the necessity of acquiring wealth as the only means of obtaining pleasure. A fact which was no sooner understood by the stranger, than he gratefully accepted the offer of his friendly host to place him in a situation in which he might amass riches. To this object he began to apply himself with diligence; and was becoming in some measure reconciled to the manners and customs of our planet, strangely as they differed from those of his own, when an incident occurred which gave an entirely new direction to his energies. It was but a few weeks after his arrival on our earth, when, walking in the cool of the day with his friend in the outskirts of the city, his attention was arrested by the appearance of a spacious enclosure near which they passed; he inquired the use to which it was appropriated. "It is," replied the nobleman, "a place of public interment." I do not understand you," said the stranger. "It is the place," repeated his friend, "where we bury our dead." "Excuse me, Sir," replied his companion, with some embarrassment, "I must trouble you to explain yourself yet further." The nobleman repeated the information in still plainer terms. "I am still at a loss to comprehend you perfectly," said the stranger, turning deadly pale. This must relate to something of which I was not only totally ignorant in my own world, but of which I have, as yet, had no intimation in yours. I pray you, therefore, to satisfy my curiosity; for if I have any clue to your meaning, this, surely, is a matter of more mighty concernment than any to which you have hitherto directed me." "My good friend," replied the nobleman, 66 you must be indeed a novice amongst us, if you have yet to learn that we must all, sooner or later, submit to take our place in these dismal abodes; nor will I deny that it is one of the least desirable of the circumstances which appertain to our condition; for which reason it is a matter rarely referred to in polished society, and this accounts for your being hitherto uninformed on the subject. But truly, Sir, if the inhabitants of the place whence you came are not liable to any similar misfortune, I advise you to be take yourself back again with all speed; for be assured there is no escape here; nor could I guarantee your safety for a single bour." "Alas," replied the adventurer, "I must submit to the conditions of my enterprize; of which, till now, I little understood the import. But explain to me, I beseech you, something more of the nature and consequences of this wondrous metamorphosis, and tell me at what period it most commonly happens to man." While he thus spoke, his voice faultered, and his whole frame shook violently; his countenance was pale as death, and a cold dew stood in large drops upon his forehead. By this time his companion, finding the discourse becoming more serious than was agreeable, declared that he must refer him to the priests for further information; this subject being very much out of his province. "How!" exclaimed the stranger, “then I cannot have understood you ;---do the priests only die?---are not you to die also?" His friend, evading these questions, hastily conducted his importunate companion to one of their magnificent temples, where he gladly consigned him to the instructions of the priesthood. The emotion which the stranger had be trayed when he received the first idea of death, was yet slight in comparison with that which he experienced as soon as he gathered from the discourses of the priests, some notion of immortality, and of the alternative of happiness or misery in a future state. But this agony of mind was exchanged for transport when be learned, that, by the performance of certain conditions before death, the state of happiness might be secured. His eagerness to learn the nature of these terms, excited the surprise and even the contempt of his sacred teachers. They advised him to remain satisfied for the preseat with the instructions he had received, and to defer the remainder of the discusión till the morrow. "How," exclaimed the novice, “say you not that death may come at any hour?-Day it not then come this hour?---and what if it should come before I have performed these conditions! Oh! withhold not this excellent knowledge from me a single moment !" The priests, suppressing a smile at his simplicity, then proceeded to explain their Theology to their attentive and ter: but who shall describe the ecstacy of his happiness when he was given to understand, that the required conditions were, generally, of easy and pleasant performance; and that the occasional difficulties or inconveniences which might attend them, would entirely cease with the short term of bis earthly existence. "If, then, I understand you rightly," said he to his instructors, "this event which you call death, and which seems in itself strangely terrible, is most desirable and blissful. What a favour is this which is granted to me, in being sent to inhabit a planet in which I can die!" The priests again exchanged smiles with each other; but their ridicule was wholly lost upon the enraptured stranger. When the first transports of his emotion had subsided, he began to reflect with sore uneasiness on the time he had already lost since his arrival. "Alas, what have I been doing!" exclaimed he. "This gold which I have been collecting, tell me, reverend priests, will it avail me any thing when the thirty or forty years are expired which, you say, I may possibly sojourn in your planet!" Nay," replied the priests, "but verily you will find it of excellent use so long as you remain in it." |