"Yes; and if you had rung for a quarter of a century, it would have been all the same."

"I cannot understand you," said Mr. Armand.

"Why, the truth is, Mr. Ludlow cannot go to the Springs with them this season, and they are so afraid that it will become known, that they are burying themselves in the back part of the house, and denying all visiters."

"Why so? I cannot comprehend it."

"All fashionable people, you know, are expected to go to the sea-shore or the Springs; and my sister and her two eldest daughters are so silly, as to fear that they will lose caste, if it is known that they could not go this season. Do you understand now?"

"Perfectly."

cr Well, that is the plain A B C of the case. But it provokes me out of all patience with them."

"It is a strange idea, certainly," said Mr. Armand, in momentary abstraction of thought; and then bidding uncle Joseph good morning, he walked hastily along, his mind in a state of fermentation.

The truth was, Mr. Armand had become much attached to Emily Ludlow, for she was a girl of imposing appearance and winning manners. But this staggered him. If she were such a slave to fashion and observance, she was not the woman for his wife. As he reflected upon the matter, and reviewed his intercourse with her, he could remember many things in her conversation and conduct that he did not like. He could distinctly detect a degree of self-estimation consequent upon her station in society, that did not meet his approbation; because it indicated a weakness of mind that he had no wish to have in a wife. The wealth of her father he had not regarded, nor did he now regard it, for he was himself possessed of an independence.

The brief

Two days after, he was again at Sinterview that had passed between him and Mary Jones was a sufficient introduction for him; and, taking advantage of it, he threw himself in her way frequently, and the more he saw of her, the more did he admire her winning

gentleness, sweet temper, and good sense. When he returned to New York, he was more than half in love with her.

"Mr. Armand has not been to see us once this autumn," said Adeline, one evening in October. They were sitting in a handsomely furnished parlour in a neat dwelling, comfortable and commodious, but not so splendid as the one they had occupied a few months previous. Mr. Ludlow's affairs had become so embarrassed, that he determined, in spite of the opposition of his family, to reduce his expenses. This resolution he carried out amid tears and remonstrances, for he could not do it in any other way.

"Who could expect him to come here?" Emily replied to the remark of her sister; "not I, certainly."

"I do not believe that would make any difference with him," Florence ventured to say, for it was little that she could say that did not meet with opposition.

"Why do you not?" asked Adeline.

"Because Mary Jones-"

"Mary Jones again!" ejaculated Emily. "I believe you do not think of anybody but Mary Jones. I am surprised that mamma lets you visit that girl!"

"As good people as I am visit her," replied Florence; "I have seen those there who would be welcome here."

"What do you mean?"

"If you had waited until I had finished my sentence, you would have known before now. Mary Jones lives in a house no better than this, and Mr. Armand goes to see her." "I do not believe it!" said Emily, with emphasis.

"Just as you like about that. Seeing is believing, they say; and as I have seen him there, I can do no less than believe he was there."

"When did you see him there?" Emily now asked with eager interest, while her face grew pale.

"I saw him there last evening-and he sat conversing with Mary in a way that showed them to be no strangers to each other."

A long, embarrassed, and painful silence followed this

N

announcement. At last, Emily got up and went off to her chamber, where she threw herself upon her bed and burst into tears. After these ceased to flow, and her mind had become, in some degree, tranquillized, her thoughts became busy. She remembered that Mr. Armand had called while they were hiding in fear lest it should be known that they were not on a fashionable visit to some watering-place, how he had rung and rung repeatedly, as if under the idea that they were there, and how his countenance expressed disappointment as she caught a glimpse of it through the closed shutters. With all this, came also the idea that he might have discovered that they were at home, and have despised the principle from which they acted, in thus shutting themselves up and denying all visiters. This thought was exceedingly painful. It was evident to her that it was not their changed circumstances that kept him away-for had he not visited Mary Jones?

Uncle Joseph came in a few evenings afterwards, and during his visit the following conversation took place :"Mr. Armand visits Mary Jones, I am told," Adeline remarked, as an opportunity for saying so occurred.

"He does! Well, she is a good girl-one in a thousand," replied uncle Joseph.

"She is only a watchmaker's daughter," said Emily, with an ill-concealed sneer.

“And you are only a merchant's daughter. Pray, what is the difference?"

"Why, a good deal of difference."

"Well, state it."

"Mr. Jones is nothing but a mechanic."

"Well?"

"Who thinks of associating with mechanics?"

"There may be some who refuse to do so; but upon what

grounds do they assume a superiority?”

"Because they are really above them."

"But in what respect?"

"They are better and more esteemed in society."

"As to their being better, that is only an assumption.

But I see I must bring the matter home. Would you be really any worse were your father a mechanic?"

"The question is not a fair one. You suppose an impossible case."

"Not so impossible as you might imagine. You are the daughter of a mechanic."

66

'Brother, why will you talk so? I am out of all patience with you!" said Mrs. Ludlow, angrily.

"And yet, no one knows better than you that I speak only the truth. No one knows better than you, that Mr. Ludlow served originally at the trade of a shoemaker; and that, consequently, these high-minded young ladies, who sneer at mechanics, are themselves a shoemaker's daughters a fact that is just as well known abroad as anything else relating to the family. And now, Misses Emily and Adeline, I hope you will hereafter find it in your hearts to be a little more tolerant of mechanics' daughters."

And thus saying, uncle Joseph rose, and bidding them good-night, left them to their own reflections, which were not of the most pleasant character, especially as the mother could not deny the allegation he had made.

During the next summer, Mr. Ludlow, whose business was no longer embarrassed, and who had become satisfied that, although he should sink a large proportion of a handsome fortune, he would still have a competence left, and that well secured, he proposed to visit S―, as usual. There was not a dissenting voice, no objecting on the score of meeting vulgar people there. The painful fact disclosed by uncle Joseph, of their plebeian origin, and the marriage of Mr. Armand-whose station in society was not to be questioned—with Mary Jones, the watchmaker's daughter, had softened and subdued their tone of feeling, and caused them to set up a new standard of estimation. The old one would not do, for, judged by that, they would have to hide their diminished heads. Their conduct at the Springs was far less objectionable than it had been heretofore, partaking of the modest and retiring in deportment, rather than the assuming, the arrogant, and the self-sufficient. Mrs. Armand

was there, with her sister, moving in the first circles; and Emily Ludlow and her sister Adeline felt honoured rather than humiliated by an association with them. It is to be hoped they will yet make sensible women.

Blind prejudices such as these degrade the understanding as well as cramp the heart. The semi-civilized nations of the East, bound by the prejudices of caste, reject all innovations and improvements, although they might thereby be relieved from the oppression and suffering which they endure. The Chinese remain from generation to generation imitative and ingenious; but, fettered by prejudice, they rarely adopt the improvements of other nations. The Turks seemed by their religion and civil polity as impregnably fortified against "the march of mind," as their beautiful Golden Horn is against a foreign foe. The present Sultan has exercised his influence to some extent in levelling these barriers; and more has been thus accomplished by his single might, than had been effected by all other Moslem minds since the days of Mahomet. The change, however, it is to be feared, has been too entirely foreign in its source, to be altogether beneficial. The destruction of a people's nationality is like the eradication of the domestic ties and the home affections of the individual. Such heart prejudices, when wisely regulated, can never be too fondly cherished. The casting off of national bigotry, and the getting rid of antiquated customs and false ideas, is an element of progress which cannot be too highly valued. Every people has somewhat to unlearn, and may reap some benefits from the experience and the practice of other nations. The prejudices of nations, as of individuals, in the same manner, prevent that range of thought, that expansion of the understanding, in which an emancipated mind rejoices.

Prejudices derived from books. More weight is attached, and firmer credence given, to what is printed, than to what is orally communicated. No little child doubts what he has read in a book. "Why, I have seen it in print!" is no uncommon assertion to prove that a thing is true. The very pic