LESSON LXV.

A Family Scene.-MISS FERRIER.

THE first appearance of the Holm was highly prepossessing. It was a large, handsome-looking house, situated in a wellwooded park, by the side of a broad, placid river; and an air of seclusion and stillness reigned all around, which impressed the mind with images of peace and repose. The interior of the house was no less promising. There was a spacious hall, and a handsome staircase, with all appliances to boot; but, as the party approached the drawing-room, all the luxurious indolence of thought, inspired by the tranquillity of the scenery, was quickly dispelled by the discordant sounds which issued from thence; and, when the door was thrown open, the footman in vain attempted to announce the visiters.

In the middle of the room all the chairs were collected, to form a coach and horses for the Masters and Misses Fairbairn. One unruly-looking urchin sat in front, cracking a long whip with all his might; another acted as guard behind, and blew a shrill trumpet with all his strength; while a third, in a night-cap and flannel lappet, who had somewhat the air of having quarrelled with the rest of the party, paraded up and down, in solitary majesty, beating a drum. On a sofa sat Mrs. Fairbairn, a soft, fair, genteel-looking woman, with a crying child about three years old at her side, tearing paper into shreds, seemingly for the delight of littering the carpet, which was already strowed with headless dolls, tailless horses, and wheelless carts. As she rose to receive her visiters, it began to scream.

"I'm not going away, Charlotte, love,-don't be frightened," said the fond mother, with a look of ineffable pleasure.

"You shan't get up," screamed Charlotte, seizing her mother's gown fiercely, to detain her.

"My darling, you'll surely let me go to speak to unclegood uncle, who brings you pretty things, you know;" but, during this colloquy, uncle and the ladies had made their way to the enthralled mother, and the bustle of a meeting and introduction was got over. The footman obtained chairs

with some difficulty, and placed them as close to the mistress of the house as possible, aware that, otherwise, it would not be easy to carry on even question and answer amid the tu mult that reigned.

"You find us rather noisy, I am afraid," said Mrs. Fairbairn with a smile, and in a manner which evidently meant the reverse; "but this is Saturday, and the children are all in such spirits, and they won't stay away from me. Henry, my dear, don't crack your whip quite so loud, there's a good boy-that's a new whip his papa brought him from London; and he's so proud of it! William, my darling, don't you think your drum must be tired now? If I were you I would give it a rest. Alexander, your trumpet makes rather too much noise: one of these ladies has a headache; wait till you go out-there's my good boy,—and then you'll blow it at the cows and the sheep, you know, and frighten them— Oh! how you will frighten them with it!"

"No, I'll not blow it at the cows; I'll blow it at the horses, because then they'll think 'tis the mail-coach." And he was running off, when Henry jumped down from the coach-box.

"No, but you shan't frighten them with your trumpet, for I shall frighten them with my whip. Mamma, aren't horses best frightened with a whip ?"—and a struggle ensued.

"Well, don't fight, my dears, and you shall both frighten them," cried their mamma.

'No, I'm determined he shan't frighten them; I shall do it," cried both together, as they rushed out of the room, and the drummer was preparing to follow.

"William, my darling, don't you go after these naughty boys; you know they're always very bad to you. You know they wouldn't let you into their coach with your drum." Here William began to cry." Well, never mind, you shall have a coach of your own-a much finer coach than theirs; I wouldn't go in to their ugly, dirty coach; and you shall 'have" Here something of a consolatory nature was whispered; William was comforted, and even prevailed upon to relinquish his drum for his mamma's ivory work-box, the contents of which were soon scattered on the floor.

"These boys are gone without their hats," cried Mrs. Fairbairn, in a tone of distress. "Eliza, my dear, pull the

bell for Sally to get the boys' hats." Sally being despatched with the hats, something like a calm ensued, in the absence of him of the whip and the trumpet; but as it will be of short duration, it is necessary to take advantage of it in improving the introduction into an acquaintance with the Fairbairn family.

Mrs. Fairbairn was one of those ladies, who, from the time she became a mother, ceased to be any thing else. All the duties, pleasures, charities and decencies of life, were henceforth concentrated in that one grand characteristic; every object in life was henceforth viewed through that single medium. Her own mother was no longer her mother; she was the grandmamma of her dear infants: her brothers and sisters were mere uncles and aunts; and even her husband ceased to be thought of as her husband, from the time he became a father.

He was no longer the being who had claims on her time, her thoughts, her talents, her affections; he was simply Mr. Fairbairn, the noun masculine of Mrs. Fairbairn, and the father of her children. Happily for Mr. Fairbairn, he was not a person of very nice feelings, or refined taste; and although, at first, he did feel a little unpleasantly, when he saw how much his children were preferred to himself, yet, in time, he became accustomed to it,—then came to look upon Mrs. Fairbairn as the most exemplary of mothers,—and, finally, resolved himself into the father of a very fine family, of which Mrs. Fairbairn was the mother.

In all this there was more of selfish egotism, and animal ́ instinct, than of rational affection, or Christian principle; but both parents piqued themselves upon their fondness for their offspring, as if it were a feeling peculiar to themselves, and not one they shared in common with the lowest and weakest of their species. Like them, too, it was upon the bodies of their children that they lavished their chief care and tenderness; for, as to the immortal interests of their souls, or the cultivation of their minds, or the improvement of their tempers, these were but little attended to, at least in comparison with their health and personal appearance.

Alas! if there "be not a gem so precious as the human soul," how often do these gems seem as pearls cast before

swine! for how seldom is it that a parent's greatest care is for the immortal happiness of that being, whose precarious and, at best, transient existence engrosses her every thought and desire! But, perhaps, Mrs. Fairbairn, like many a foolish, ignorant mother, did her best; and had she been satisfied with spoiling her children herself, for her own private amusement, and not have drawn in her visiters and acquaintances to share in it, the evil might have passed uncensured. But, instead of shutting herself up in her nursery, she chose to bring her nursery down to her drawing-room; and, instead of modestly denying her friends an entrance into her purgatory, she had a foolish pride in showing herself in the midst of her angels. In short, as the best things, when corrupted, always become the worst, so the purest and tenderest of human affections, when thus debased by selfishness and egotism, turn to the most tiresome and ridiculous of human weaknesses.

LESSON LXVI.

The same, concluded.

"I HAVE been much to blame," said Mrs. Fairbairn, addressing Miss Bell, in a soft, whining, sick-child sort of voice, "for not having been at Bellevue long ago; but dear little Charlotte has been so plagued with her teeth, I could not think of leaving her; for she is so fond of me, she will go to nobody else she screams when her maid offers to take her, and she won't go even to her papa."

"Is that possible?" said the major.

"I assure you it's very true; she's a very naughty girl sometimes"-bestowing a long and rapturous kiss on the child. "Who was it that beat poor papa for taking her from mamma last night? Well, don't cry: no, no, it wasn't my Charlotte. She knows every word that's said to her, and did from the time she was only a year old."

"That is wonderful!" said Miss Bell;

little favorite, Andrew ?"

"but how is my

"He is not very stout yet, poor little fellow; and we must

be very careful of him." Then, turning to Miss St. Clair, "Our little Andrew has had the measles; and you know the dregs of the measles are a serious thing-much worse than the measles themselves. Andrew, Andrew Waddell, my love, come here, and speak to the ladies." And thereupon Andrew Waddell, in a night-cap, riding on a stick, drew near. Being the major's namesake, Miss Bell, in the ardor of her attachment, thought proper to coax Andrew Waddell on her knee, and even to open her watch for his entertainment.

"Ah! I see who spoils Andrew Waddell," cried the delighted mother.

The major chuckled; Miss Bell disclaimed; and, for the time, Andrew Waddell became the hero of the piece: the blains of the measles were carefully pointed out, and all his sufferings and sayings duly recapitulated. At length Miss Charlotte, indignant at finding herself eclipsed, began to scream and cry with all her strength.

"It's her teeth, darling little thing," said her mother, caressing her.

"I'm sure it's her teeth, sweet little dear," said Miss Bell.

"It undoubtedly must be her teeth, poor little girl," said the major.

"If you will feel her gum," said Mrs. Fairbairn, putting her own finger into the child's mouth, "you will feel how hot it is."

This was addressed in a sort of general way to the company, none of whom seemed eager to avail themselves of the privilege, till the major stepped forward, and having, with his fore-finger, made the circuit of Miss Charlotte's mouth, gave it as his decided opinion, that there was a tooth actually cutting the skin. Miss Bell followed the same course, and confirmed the interesting fact, adding, that it appeared to her to be "an uncommon large tooth."

At that moment, Mr. Fairbairn entered, bearing in his arms another of the family,-a fat, sour, new-waked-looking creature, sucking its finger. Scarcely was the introduction over," There's a pair of legs!" exclaimed he, holding out a pair of thick purple stumps with red worsted shoes at the end of them. "I don't suppose Miss St. Clair ever saw legs