invited through the newspapers. My expe- And here I think it is proper that I should notice some of the agreeable things in and about the federal city, which atone really in a great measure for its foibles. One of them is the unpretending, generous hospitality which the people extend, without scarcely an exception, to respectable strangers from all parts of the Union. There are no vulgar upstarts" about Washington, there is no "codfish aristocracy," as Mr. Bennett has baptized it, no irritating and offensive exclusiveness on the part of self-constituted "upper classes." The very poverty of the people of Washington protects them from the vulgar pride of wealth and the vices of a society merely based on fortune. There is none of the crudeness and arrogance of a fast-growing place, though of course none of the vigour and energy which accompany the movements of such communities. Washington, moreover, is delightful from the absence of all inquisitive neighbours, no matter in what part of the town you happen to reside. Neighbours, in a city, are always troublesome; they are a sort of forced acquaintance which every one tries to get rid of as best he can, without giving offence or rendering himself obnoxious to their censure; their very sympathy is distressing, and even in prosperity little better than an annoyance. The people of Washington are not much troubled with such affectionate incumbrances, and a sudden transition from Boston, for instance, to the federal city, must really produce a very lively sensation of individual and social independence. Again, Washington has no mob, though in lieu thereof a mixed population of free blacks and slaves, constituting by far the worst body I do not of servants in the United States. remember having conversed with a Washingtonian who did not complain of his "domestics." As the evil is generally felt, I wonder they do not propose some adequate means of effecting a cure. At all events, the absence of a mob is a pretty good offset against the absence of good servants, and adds certainly much to the security of property in the District, the whole of which is guarded by about sixteen watchmen and an auxiliary guard, of which I never saw but the captain.-Perhaps the rest are militia! Among the other good things in Washington, I must not forget to mention a very important one in all cities and all times; I would here allude to the absence of all provincial feeling, and the presence of a high-toned comprehensive patriotism which embraces the whole Union. This is the more gratifying when contrasted with the state pride of the inhabitants of other cities, which but too often degenerates into a sentiment almost antagonistical to Americanism. To whatever extent partisan feelings in politics may be carried in Washington, a genuine imperishable love of the Union, of the whole country, is a characteristic quality of its inhabitants. One cannot but be convinced that here, after all, beats the national heart! With all the vexations of mind and body to which strangers are exposed in the federal city, few will leave it without grateful remembrances, and an attachment to its very soil, which will make a return to it an object of gratification and delight. THEY'RE not the gems of a plundered sea, With their awkward limbs in liveried glow. [In the grave-yard of the First Presbyterian Church, in Easton, Pa., there is a simple, modest tomb-stone with this inscription, "OUR LITTLE JOHNNY." This tomb, which marks the resting-place of a sweet, precocious boy, is the scene of the following verses, written by his Mother.-ED.] "Tis past, 'tis o'er, my beautiful hath faded- I bow submissive. 'Neath this churchyard stone O ye pure orbs, why steal ye thus at even tears. Why weep you thus for her in night and sadness? Weep on, ye pitying orbs, though vain your weeping;- "Tis vain, all vain: yet hath she consolation;. The enraptured soul, upspringing, chainless, free, Weep not, thou stricken one, though darkness o'er thee, AUNT RACHEL. BY MRS. E. C. KINNEY. WHO that ever saw her, could forget her? That serene face-in which benignity lent its radiance to classic features, marked by strength of purpose and resolute action; that figurethe very ideal of the Roman Matron-that, clad in the sober habit of the Quaker, assumed no stateliness of carriage, but moved to the inborn grace and dignity of a Scripture prophetess; while the snowy kerchief folded across her bosom, seemed the brooding wing of the dove, whose pure and peaceful spirit dwelt within. She looked not over forty when I first saw her; but had been called Aunt Rachel by the reverent villagers for many years, as she came among them in the sacred character of a preacher; had won all ears by her truthful, melodious tones, and all hearts by the love that overflowed her own, and like an ever-living spring, made green all her pleasant borders. The term aunt, in her case, was evidently one of respect and endearment; not as applied to the doctress, nurse, or spinster-gossip of the village. It was used in part as a compromise for the Mrs. or Madam, that would have offended her Yea and Nay sect, as the atmosphere of sacredness that surrounded her, to a conventional people, quite forbade the oriental Rachel, even though it brought to mind, in its simplicity, the beautiful Scripture heroine; for Aunt Rachel's admirers were not confined to the Society of Friends; she recognised numerous friends among "the world's people" also. Nor were her ministrations limited to her own sect wherever a sick-bed was approachable, there was found Aunt Rachel; not with the budget of nostrums and loud voice of expostulation; but moving, like a noiseless spirit, to smooth the sufferer's pillow-whispering in gentle tone the consoling word, or sending the voiceless prayer to Heaven, whose response was peace, nestling silently to the heart of the dying. To the young people of the neighbourhood, Aunt Rachel was emphatically "a mother in Israel." Her inexpressibly gentle manner, united with a keen perception, and delicate appreciation of all their pleasures, pains, and prospects, gained confidence unasked, and love unstinted. Thus without the remotest characteristic of an intermeddler, she became the repository of all heart-secrets-the mother-confessor of the youthful community. Aunt Rachel was not a maiden lady: by some unaccountable accident, or some imperceptible affi | nity, her fortunes had in early life been united to "a small pattern of a man" in every sense of the adjective. She obeyed, to the letter of the law, the divine mandate, "Let the wife see that she reverence her husband;" while, by an irresistible law of mind, her weaker half was quietly guided by the stronger. The illmatched but peaceful pair owned and occupied one of the amplest dwellings of the village, and were the possessors of a flourishing farm some three miles distant. Thus Aunt Rachel's purse, though not as large as her heart, often added to her unuttered prayers its untrumpeted alms. Her house was the home of hospitality, and while her immediate family consisted only of her passive spouse, herself, and servants, she generally headed a large well-filled board. Teaching the Scriptures at home, and preaching wherever and whenever the spirit moved, were considered a divine right with which her meek Jeremiah never interfered. The good Book was placed beside her daily at the breakfast-table, and after the meal was over, her family and guests enjoyed a scriptural feast, enriched by the modulations of her heaventoned voice. Aunt Rachel's, was a name familiar not only to the neighbouring towns, but to the cities also; and dearly was it revered in the "city of Brotherly Love," whose "yearly meetings”— despite their inevitable rainy accompaniment, she always attended. Whenever moved by the spirit to preach at a distance, the male members of the meeting to which she belonged awaited her bidding, vying with one another for the honour of conducting her to the appointed place. Thus without egotism, assumption or strife, she swayed all hearts, as gently and caressingly as the sweet southwest moves the vernal grove, or the rejoicing flowers. Among the young people of the village, was a beautiful maiden, who attached herself to Aunt Rachel at first sight, and became, in the course of time, to her as a daughter. The affection between them, exceeding even the ties of nature, could only be compared to the attachment of Naomi and Ruth. Indeed Alice became so enthusiastic in her love at one time, that she would fain have forsaken her home and sect, declaring to Aunt Rachel, “Where thou livest, I will live-thy people shall be my people, and thy God, my God!" But the kind expostulation of her less impassioned friend, |